Some private lumber yards are run like a battleship with kickass employees and dedicated knowledgable staff, and other times you get a place that should have been shut down years ago. Well, I got one of the bad ones. My lumber guy just dropped the ball completely like the semi-retarded knuckle-dragging dope that he came to be. How's your cranial ridge doing, pal. Passing it onto your offspring? Greeaaat. He seems to be waiting for me to drive over there, kidnap him, bring him to my secret CIA lab, do an entire 3D body scan of him, create a full size latex suit based on his digitized virtual self, put the suit on, steal his car, drive back to his lumber yard, sit at his desk and do his fucking job for him. I don't know if you ever digitized someone and walked around as a latex version of them, but it's a pain in the ass and I have to go make some money today. I'll make a stop at his competition before work and see if they want the business.