Saturday, February 6, 2021, 10:00 a.m. Central European Standard Time

I’m moving and that’s why I need new carpet for my new living room.

It used to be easy in the past. In the past you just drove into the spacious parking lot of your chosen hardware store, found a space for your car and leisurely strolled into the store to see what was available.

Today that is forbidden. Today you are no longer allowed to touch the potential new carpet to check the quality, nor look at it to assess whether the color really matches the sofa. Today you have to take what you are given. And you have to reserve your stuff online.

I did that properly last night: 4 by 4 meters of carpet in anthracite color with golden dots on it and five transition rails, to be paid for at the store when I picked it up. After successfully clicking, I got an email with my order number. I have to say it or show it or whatever at the goods collection point. So far all clear.

Today it’s time to pick up the material for the „laying carpet“ project. It snowed overnight and it takes me a quarter of an hour to get my car ready, but then it is relatively easy to get to the hardware store on roads that are more or less cleared. As I arrive at the store, I can see from a distance that my helpers, my daughter and son-in-law, are already there. Thank God, because even with the best will in the world, I couldn’t get 16 square meters of carpet into the car by myself.

With good cheer, I turn into the entrance to the parking lot, gently step on the brakes and am amazed: two long lines of cars in front of me. Okay, Saturday morning at 10 a.m. is best hardware-store-time in Germany. German men – and women – are eager to realize their projects, but … why are they all standing around here? Why don’t they drive on?

Because they’re not allowed to, I learn from my daughter. She has already done some research and found out just that. The hardware store vendors have set up a gazebo in front of the entrance to the parking lot. Of course, they have something like that in stock, they just have to move it from A to B with a forklift. I have to register at this booth, give my order number and then I’m assigned a parking space. Assigned! Aha.

So I park my car somewhere to the side and trudge over to the booth. A few construction-mad men are already waiting there, but none of the helpful stuff seem to be home – as is usual in hardware stores. We keep waiting and freezing. The wind blows icy in my face and my glasses fog up because of the stupid mask.

Thickly masked figures in black and orange outfits are running around everywhere. Some are carrying pieces of paper, others are pushing carts full of material around. Then finally a man with a clipboard appears at the booth and now the fun begins. I say my name and my order number and find out that my Herbie and I can now move into parking bay number 3. What?!

Wait, did I perhaps get lost and accidentally ended up in Fort Knox? I look around confused and finally understand what happened here. There are pallets with bags of potting soil stacked to the height of a man all over the place . There are large, bright orange posters with numbers painted on them. Whatever. I get back in my car and drive into the designated slot number 3.

What now? Waiting. Across the street, one of these masked figures calls out to a customer: „Oh, you still have to pay!“ Ah, right! I still have to do that too.

So I grab my wallet and make my way to the entrance, but am stopped halfway. My children have obviously received new information from someone. First, an employee has to bring me some piece of paper with some code on it. Then I can use that to go to the cash register and pay. How nice.

Shortly afterwards, I actually hold the slip of paper in my hand and walk to the cash register, which is not that easy to find. There are barrier tapes, signs, arrows everywhere: „This way only and don’t you dare to go that way!“ My brain cells start to grumble. „I want to go home!“ one of them yells and another complains: „Seriously, people, they’re all totally crazy here, aren’t they?“ I take a deep breath and decisively interrupt: „Quiet up there! We need the damn carpet, so we have to go through this now, okay? Everyone sit down and shut up.“

The lady at the cash register greets me with a friendly smile. I thread my slip of paper through the plexiglass barrier and scribble something unreadable on the card reader with my fogged-up glasses. She in turn threads my bill through to me and wishes me a nice day. Thank you. It will definitely become one when I can finally slide home with my carpet.

In the delusion that everything is now sorted, I dig my way through the jungle of barrier tape to the exit and slide back to my car. Wow, there is actually one of those material trolleys already there. On it is a four-meter-long roll of carpet, very neatly wound onto a cardboard roll and sealed in plastic film, and my five transition rails are also there.

Great! Wonderful! I am absolutely delighted!

In the past, I could have told the employee who would have cut my carpet that I would like to take the piece folded and not rolled – because I didn’t drive up in a 30-ton truck, but in a lousy Renault Kangoo! My Herbie has already transported a three-meter-long kitchen worktop, but when it comes to a four-meter roll of carpet, he just jingles his headlights regretfully.

And maybe I could have noted my special packaging request somewhere when I placed my order last night. Maybe there was a button that I might have overlooked… and maybe the moon is made of cheese after all.

Now we’re at a loss. No matter how we try, the roll only fits into the car at an angle from the top front to the bottom back, but then it still sticks out half a meter and the tailgate won’t close. Damn it!

My daughter says that maybe we could spontaneously rent a car from the market. Basically a good idea, but unfortunately she missed one small thing. In Germany, nothing is spontaneous anymore, neither buying carpet nor renting a car, nor going to the public swimming pool. Because if something were spontaneous, we would now have a neatly folded carpet package on the cart and wouldn’t need a replacement car at all.

My son-in-law is a master electrician, always has his toolbox with him and an idea. He tries to make a kind of cord out of a few leftover cables that we could use to tie the tailgate down, but it’s not enough.

I, on the other hand, have had enough right now!

In the past, I could have quickly gone back into the shop and bought a few tensioning straps or ten meters of jute rope, but that was in the past – in another country before our time. I’m boiling inside. I grab one of these masked figures and explain our problem to her – admittedly a little unfriendly. Sorry, but I have to get this out of me now, otherwise I’ll explode. Her look says it all. „Well, why are you buying such a big carpet when you don’t have a car that fits it,“ it whispers.

Son-in-law tries to de-escalate the situation and explains the whole thing a little more nicely. The masked lady looks at him carefully and seems to be considering whether she can take responsibility for letting him into the holy hall. Yes, he’s wearing one of those regulation FF thingies. So it’ll probably be okay. „Come with me,“ she says. “Show me what you need.”

A few minutes son-in-law comes back with a ball of packing tape. It is quite thin, but at least it is long. It doesn’t take long. Then somehow he has tied the tailgate down with it. The man was in the volunteer fire service and that seems to pay off in all situations. The man knows a lot about knots. I am still skeptical. The roll is still sticking out a good 30 centimeters. Is that supposed to hold? “It will hold,” he says with rock-solid conviction. “Now just calm down. It’s fun after all, a real adventure.” The man not only knows what he’s talking about, he also has nerves. As far as I’m concerned, I could easily do without such adventures.

So we drive off. Son-in-law sits in my passenger seat and hugs the carpet roll in case it might try to escape through the tailgate. I am totally in sweat every time I have to brake and start again. Strange noises can be heard from the back as we trundle home on secret back roads.

Son-in-law turns out to be right: We actually arrive at home with the roll without any accidents. There is a thick lump of snow slush stuck to the bottom end, but the carpet itself is fine thanks to the sturdy plastic wrap from the hardware store.

Yes, looks good, the new carpet.