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Help me! I’m seeking asylum

Attention, all garden center clerks! When we come in looking for certain plants, how come you don’t automatically know what we’re talking about? Isn’t it obvious? Sure, we might not know the exact name of something, but we know what we want. Aren’t you supposed to be mind readers? We’re frustrated!

This frustration hit home the other day when my friend Dan Heims at Canby’s Terra Nova Nursery put together a list of stories he’d gathered from garden center clerks nationwide about unusual customer requests.

Customer says: “Y’all got any, uh, amnesia?”

Translation: We’re asking about artemisia (ar-tuh-mee-zee-uh), best known as dusty miller, which has cool, silvery leaves that look fussy. But instead, we hear muffled laughter as you lead us to the right spot. Don’t toy with us, thank you.

Customer says: “Any anals and preanals?”

Translation: We want annuals and perennials, mister. And step on it.

Customer says: “Asylum?”

Translation: You probably already know we want alyssum, not asylum; but won’t you grant us that anyway? Alyssum is a sweet, trailing plant that makes a quick carpet of little white, lavender-pink or violet-purple flowers from spring till frost.

Customer says: “Lazy-eyed Susan?”

Translation: What’s so funny about that? It’s easy to figure out we’re looking for black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia hirta). You must be chuckling because we’re unaware there’s a black-eyed Susan perennial or annual vine (Thunbergia alata). I’m certain you’re not laughing because you think the bruising evidence of domestic violence is funny. Of course not.

Customer says: “Liatris pick-yer-nose?”

Translation: How difficult is it to figure out we need Liatris pycnostachya (pick-nos-stack-ya)? Anybody could make that mistake, buddy. The common name of Kansas gayfeather is easier to remember, but nobody told us that when they were trying to impress us with this big feather duster of a plant that sports a purple flower atop a 4-foot-tall summer stem.

Why can’t garden center clerks understand we want geraniums when we ask for german-i-ums? Close enough. Or when we say, “I’d like a stick-stake tomato.” Absolutely, bring one right up. The customer is always right, and everybody knows a beefsteak tomato needs a stick to stake it upright. Do we need to draw you a picture?

When gardeners ask for “flags,” don’t send them to the hardware store. Cheerfully take them to the iris section. Show them the blue flag and yellow flag iris.

The vegetable gardener might say: “These seed potatoes didn’t produce. The plants got big. But no spuds!” But clerks should not rush to judgment by asking, “Did you dig them?” How’s the gardener to know? They come prepackaged at the grocery store, don’t they? And when we ask, “Where’s your red-hot poker?” resist the urge to blush — and show us Kniphofia.

Sooner or later, the tables will turn on the garden center clerks, and we’ve got to remember to practice kindness in return. When the guy from the garden center comes into your law office and wants a “divorce daiquiri,” you won’t suppress a laugh and sarcastically reply, “Oh, you want a divorce decree,” while rolling your eyes at your law partner, will you? You’ll just offer him a chair, tell him he’s found the right place, charge him $200 an hour and watch him squirm through two years of haggling.

It’s all quite simple. Knowing all the Latin names doesn’t make you superior. Kindly sharing knowledge does. Seriously, that’s what most garden center clerks in Portland do best every single day. They translate what we’re asking for, however awkwardly, into what we want. And nobody is a Dictamnus about it either! Now you’re talking my language.