Arrow Ace Hardware

It’s an old small town hardware store. They have a pretty decent variety of things you would need. Price is a little higher then your typical hardware store but they do have good sale deals.

A neat little hardware store, good enough for when one doesn’t have the time to drive the 15 miles to the nearest Home Depot. The prices are akin to those of a 7 – 11 in that you pay for the convenience of this place, and you’ll be shelling out top dollar for everything they have on the shelves. The store is staffed by pleasant, scrubbed youngsters who actually seem to enjoy helping you find what you need, with the exception of the grumpy 60-​ish guy who seems to manage the place. Avoid him; he’s trouble.
I just moved to a farm north of St Peter and frequently find myself in need of hardware stuff… garden hoses, wasp traps, evergreen tree fertilizer, batteries, lawn mower blades, paint… you get the idea. I make a run to this Ace twice a week, I find what I need without trekking to the next town and I am back at home within half an hour. The lady who manages the register («Rose») even knew my name by week #2, which underscored the small-​town feel to the place. Everything was fine until I was forced to deal with the grumpy guy in the little red vest.
Needed a new thermostat to replace the antique that was dangling off the wall in my place, so I picked one up at the Ace. Before I purchased it, however, I asked the 16 year-​old ginger kid who sold it to me about the return policy. After all, I might not have the tools, the skill or the eyesight to install the new thermostat, so I needed to know whether I could take it back if it was too much for me to deal with. The kid told me that as long as I hung onto my receipt, I would be able to return it to the store with no problem. Good enough for me. I bought the thing and headed home.
As it turned out, this thermostat proved to be too much of a challenge. The wiring was affixed using microscopic screws, for which one needed the world’s smallest Phillips, which I didn’t have. The contacts were labeled with tiny imprint, and I had trouble seeing it. And, when the wiring was nearly complete, the resulting knot of colored wires made it impossible to snap the thing together again before screwing it onto the wall. I waited for a Home Depot run, bought a larger thermostat and before bringing the first one back to Ace, made a quick safety call to them just to give them a heads-​up about the return. Again, I was told that with receipt in hand, I would be able to return the unit with no problems.
Grumpy was waiting for me. Spotted the thermostat under my arm and he immediately launched into defense mode, taking the unit from me, turning it ever-​so-​slowly in his age-​spotted hands, silently examining the thing from all angles. Minutes passed.
«Well, this appears to have been opened,» he decreed. «And since it has been opened, we can’t take it back.» I explained to him that when I bought the thing, the little Irish-​looking sales kid had assured me that it COULD be returned, even after I’d opened it. His response? «We don’t have any Irish people working here.» Again, I informed Grumpy that 90 minutes previous, I had called the store and had spoken with a young woman who asked me if I had the receipt, and if I had, to bring it in for a full refund. At the point, the cashier raised her hand and stated that I’d spoken to her, and indeed, that’s what she’d told me. And STILL, Grumpy wanted to dig in his heels about the return. «LOOK,» he said, «You can’t just RIP OPEN A PACKAGE like this and expect us to take it back. That’s NOT HOW THE WORLD WORKS.» At this point I lost it with the guy, and responded with «Look, stud. You cannot, via two of your employees, set the details of your return policy, and then AFTER the sale has been made, change your mind about your return policy. THAT’S NOT HOW THE WORLD WORKS.» He then opted to pass the buck. «The only person who can authorize a return like this is ROSE, and she’s not here.» I was losing patience. «Perhaps we can call Rose at her home?» «No. She’s not home yet.» «Perhaps we can call Rose on her CEL PHONE?» Response: «Rose doesn’t have a cel phone.»
Clearly, Grumpy enjoyed making it as difficult for me as possible. I’m probably his age peer and he was, quite possibly, bitter and annoyed with me because I didn’t hold a job in which I was forced to wear a little red vest to work, and he did.
I told him to keep the thermostat, I’d have my bank initiate a chargeback to my credit card, and for some reason, this changed Grumpy’s mind. Businesses do not like chargebacks. Each one causes the credit card acceptance fees to increase by a fraction of a percent, which translates to an increase on bank fees in the hundreds of dollars per month, so Grumpy changed his tune, but not without issuing a veiled threat; something about «the next time [I] try this shit with [him.]»
AVOID this place unless you want to be treated like a naughty foster child by a flatulant old man who loathes himself because he didn’t finish vocational school and now has to work in a retail store, selling seeds & light bulbs.