One day I had trouble helping a customer with a particularly odd kind of light bulb. This customer was dressed very nicely, was shapely and attractive, and she knew it. She looked like she was used to the finer things in life, but had an intimidating air about her that told me she had earned her wealth. I wasn’t quick enough for her taste. She enjoyed the fact that I wasn’t much help to her and spoke to me with mild condescension, like she was playing a mind game.                           
When she became frustrated with me, I knew I had to acknowledge that fact and ask for help. I said to her, “I’m actually not a light bulb expert. Let me call someone.” She was clearly perturbed (but in a statisfied way) that she had read me correctly. 
     I retreated to the stockroom and licked my wounds, then began to mentally compile all my strengths. 
    I walked back to the light bulb section, arriving just as one of the other employees was showing Miss Condescendiality a four-pronged, frosted, metric, miniature Finnish LED desk lamp bulb. “Excuse me, ma’am.” I placed myself between my fellow employee and Miss C. “I have to tell you that there is more to life than light bulbs. I’m a thirty-eight-year career master of the heating and air conditioning trade. I’m a fantastic intuitive cook; I can make a gourmet meal out of anything in anybody’s kitchen. I’m an expert-level bass guitarist and a prolific, gifted songwriter and lyricist. I am a former motorcycle mechanic and amateur motorcycle racer. I can perform almost any home building, remodeling, or repairing task. 
“I’m physically fit and can do 15 pullups. I served four years in the US Air Force as a heating systems specialist and pipefitter. At fifteen years old, I was the youngest finisher in the 1976 Greenhorn five-hundred mile national championship off-road motorcycle enduro. I don’t need to also be a light bulb expert!” “Why, then, are you working in a hardware store?” she coolly replied.