Today was the day I had to stop a 25 year old youngster from mansplaining to me, and I did it in front of other men. I was polite but it got awkward fast. It was at a gravel and stone yard. A place I have frequented off and on for three different construction jobs. Let me fill you in. Last Friday I bought one thousand pounds of Flagstone to cover 75 square feet of a simple hardscaping project. It's not an exact science to figure out how much weight one needs to cover an area, as it hinges on how thick said flagstone is. I also bought a bag of cement to try and match some of the old sun-bleached cement from yesteryear, that was already in place before I made the large overall purchase. I was on the phone when the bag was put in my car, so I wasn't really paying attention. The flagstone was delivered separately. But as soon as I got home I realized the bag was a mistake. We, meaning the gentleman that is doing all the heavy lifting on the project and myself, decided to open up the bag and sure enough it was stucco.

Today I returned the bag to the stone yard and bought more flagstone. I was told that the stucco was indeed cement, but that they were repurposing bags which said stucco, from another yard that went out of business, but he reassured me that it was indeed cement. There is always this moment as a woman when you know what a man is saying is lazy and most likely bullshit, but they were going to refund the money, so no biggie. No reason to constantly throw monkey wrenches around like a pair of verbal nunchucks at any and every perceived frontal assault. Right? I go outside to oversee which flagstone they were sorting, as I needed 1-1.5 inch thick flagstone not 2.5 to 3 inches thick. I looked down at my receipt, and saw I hadn't been credited for the bag of stucco/cement.

I went back inside to the counter and had to start from the beginning and explain again the mix-up of stucco/cement to another gentleman freshly at the counter who looked to be the manager. As I'm explaining the mix-up, the youngster who was half listening at the end of the counter starts barking at me, "Look Lady, you were already told that it's cement and not stucco. I politely turned to him and said, "Please let me finish my sentence so I can communicate clearly the rest of my thought and situation." He immediately jumps on me and gets louder. And as some of you who have been privy to me in real life know...there ain't no reason for me as a grown-ass woman to have to bear the dripping condescencion of a man-child's whine. So I ask him pointedly, "Are you seriously mansplaining to me the difference between stucco and plain cement? I'm not trying to coat an exterior wall, I'm trying to affix some flagstone to a path. You aren't even privy to the totality of my entire interaction from the other side of the counter? You haven't even seen what's inside said mystery bag." I said this without being a bitch, but firmly and calmly, meaning he thought I was being a total "see you next Tuesday".

A thick moment passes as the two men behind me offer up. "Look man, we saw that bag outside, it's stucco." The manager laughed at the youngster and refunded my money. It took two men, to confirm what I was saying the whole time, in order for another man to open up his mind long enough to understand that maybe every once in awhile a woman knows what the f*ck she is talking about, even if she looks completely out of place in a stone and gravel yard.

Thank you for listening to my complaining. I'll probably be fed-up and reporting back in a few weeks, as I tackle my lukewarm water situation in my fancy garage, when I go to purchase an electric, point of use, tankless water I will for sure be mansplained incessantly about, circuit breakers, voltage and amp draw.

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