Friendliest hardware store in America

June 2, 2025

Editor’s Note: The following series, “Life in Radically Gentrifying Cayucos by the Sea,” to be posted biweekly includes the notes, thoughts, and opinions of an original American voice: author Dell Franklin. 

Franklin’s memoir, “The ballplayer’s Son” and “Life on The Mississippi, 1969” are currently on Amazon.

The other morning I entered Miner’s Ace Hardware store in Morro Bay, where I usually feel like an alien surrounded by people who drive pickup trucks and work vans and can repair and build things and look the part, and was instantly bombarded by a host of employees “welcoming” me into their confines.

“Welcome, and good morning” a smiling middle-aged somewhat pudgy man exclaimed just as I passed through the front doors.

“Thanks,” I said, caught off guard but pleased about the greeting.

I didn’t walk another ten feet when a smiling woman of middle age vintage said, “Welcome to Ace Hardware!” with full throttle excitement such that I rarely experience. “Can I help you?”

“No, but thank you,” I stammered, as I was already somewhat stunned.

Realizing there were fewer than usual trucks and vans in the lot, it became evident the place was near empty and that Ace Hardware was hungry for my business, though I seldom shop here for anything other than lye to clear clogged drains and rat poison and was decked out in shorts and a T-shirt from playing tennis earlier that morning.

“Can I help you?” cried a younger, smaller man, grinning at me like I was his best friend recently emerging from an airplane.

“I’m fine,” I retorted. “But thanks.”

I was barely into the cavernous building and starting to head down the main aisle toward the aisle that stocks rat and mice poison to place in my garage and keep vermin from wedging their ways into my ancient cottage where I have traps set.

(Lately—fingers crossed—I’ve been spared repulsive killings.)

“Good morning! Welcome to Miner’s!” came another voice, and I realized the place was crawling with employees as another middle-aged man grinned at me.

“Good morning,” I answered as I moved down the aisle closer to the aisle holding my desired product.

By this time I was becoming nervous as I spotted two more employees coming toward me from an area beyond the aisles, probably where plants and lumber reside, places I’ve never been to in this establishment and plan never to attend under any circumstances, because lumber is never of any use to me and plants have had short life spans in my abodes.

Still, as I prepared to duck down the aisle stocking rat poison, another tall man in glasses, encased in the Miner’s badge, said, “Welcome!”

I nodded and said thank you and quickly found my rat poison. I was a bit bludgeoned. I am generally a friendly person, but this was about all I could endure—five fucking people greeting me exuberantly like I was their best friend!

Were they really sincere? Yeh, probably, though I secretly suspected some tight ass from the corporation had been lurking around in work clothes spying on the poor unfortunate people who have to wait on the public in a place like this, were discovered to be “not friendly enough,” and at a big meeting conducted by a “higher up” they were tongue lashed and threatened with terminations if they did not start some “serious and more meaningful ass kissing.”

What an awful thought. I think these friendly folks are indeed friendly folks who work in a happy environment and genuinely relish my meager business; as the first thing I learned as a person waiting on trade, one way or the other, all my life, was: These people are paying my bills and keeping me fed and sheltered. Goddam right. Solid American business sense that should be ingrained in all employees in any kind of enterprise.

Anyway, after securing my rat poison, I emerged on the main aisle, warily, hoping none of these employees felt like issuing me a good morning or welcoming me again and really embarrassing me, and this time, thankfully, I merely accepted smiles of appreciation that indeed I was contributing to their survivals by holding a small package of rat poison.

Never have I felt so appreciated and fulfilled.

At the counter, I was again greeted cheerfully and asked how my morning was going, as well as inquiring if I’d found everything I was looking for, and yes, my morning was, so far, good, and I had my rat poison, and scurried the hell out before somebody else smiled and thanked me and expected some kind of positive reaction.