Nothing is simple. Nothing.

I have been looking for a plastic storage container large enough to hold several sets of golf club irons.

For those that don’t know, the length of golf club irons, two iron through pitching wedge, varies.

I’ve been looking for a container 42 inches tall (or long) to accommodate even the long irons, the 2-3-and four iron.

The world is full of containers. Everyone says, “That should be simple enough."

But after having no luck at several local stores, I tried an out of town large home supply store to continue my quest.

I searched through the store’s storage container isle, but I couldn’t find one long enough.

I had even carried a two iron in the store with me so that I could be sure that the container was long enough.

I was rebuked by my wife for carrying the golf club inside the store. “Why are you carrying that inside?” she asked.

“I may need it for show and tell,” I explained. “It will make it easier to explain what I’m looking for. Just don’t holler ‘fore’."

I have to admit, I did ask a couple of folks if they’d seen a golf ball.

And remember, it’s going to be simple.

After having no luck on my own, I went to the customer service desk and explained my dilemma to a young lady.

“I’m looking for a plastic container, you know storage box, at least 42 inches wide or tall,” I explained. “I want to store some golf clubs. Do you have anything in the store that size?”

“Storage containers are on isle 13,” she replied.

“I’ve already looked over there, there’s not one long enough. I was hoping you could look in your computer and see if a larger size is available.”

“You can go on line and look,” she offered.

“Yeah, but I live four tenths of a mile off a four lane (Hwy 278) , six-tenths of a mile off the busiest two lane (old Hwy 6) in North MS and three tenths of a a mile from two cell phone towers and I can’t get good internet reception out at Furrs,” I said.

“This morning I even held this two iron over my head while touching the computer and I still couldn’t find a 42-inch container,” I joked.

Listen folks, I know it’s strange these days, but I was actually hoping to go in an eight acre store and buy one off the shelf. I know, I’m a dreamer.

The young lady started pushing the magic buttons on the computer.

“Are you going to want a lid,” she asked.

“Yeah, I want something I can close up and keep them out of the weather.”

“Here’s a storage container with a lid that’s 40 inches,” she replied.

“No, I need one that’s at least 42 inches in length,” I repeated, holding up my Mizuno two iron. “In fact I’d love it to be 45 or 50 inches long, so I could store some metal woods also.”

“The customer service lady’s fingers danced on the key board some more.

“We’ve got some Christmas wrapping paper containers,” she told me.

“How long are they?” I asked.

“Thirty inches long,” she replied.

I had a sudden flashback to actor Strother Martin in the movie “Cool Hand Luke.”

“What we have here is failure to communicate!”

“Let’s see, that would be 12 inches too short,” I said.

“Here are some duffel bags that are 36 inches,” she then said.

“We’re gaining on it, but that’s still six inches too short,” I reminded her.

“Do you have any plastic Christmas tree storage boxes?”

“No, it’s not Christmas, that’s a seasonal item,” she answered.

“You’re right, it’s late May. And I don’t guess there’s any reason for a gigantic store like this to keep even one 60 inch long Christmas tree box stashed away somewhere in a deep dark crevice on the chance that a pudgy golfer might come by and want to keep his old clubs out of the weather.”

“Well, do you have any garbage cans that are at least 42 inches deep?” I inquired.

“What size garbage bags do you plan on using?” she asked.

“I don’t need a garbage bag, I need a garbage can with a uniform deputy of 43 or 44 inches,” I implored.

“Here’s one that’s 39 inches tall. Will that work?” she wondered.

“Well you see, that would be at least three inches too short,” I said. “Did you know that the size of an average human brain is six inches?”

“Stop!” my wife interjected. “Hand me the club, go to the car.”

It was simple after all.

I Bryson DeChambeau-ed all my clubs down to 39 inches.

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