The girl in the gun shop

For Christmas, I bought ZooDad a new gun. A 9mm pistol to be specific. He picked it out and printed off all the relevant information. Then I went to the gun store to buy it.

It's fun to watch the guys respond to women in a gun store. It even more fun to watch them respond to women shopping by themselves in a gun store.
The men in this particular gun store were especially fun.

I had to fill out the paperwork for the background check. Of course, I messed up right at the start by giving my hubby's Social security number instead of my own. Hee, hee,hee. The Army wife thing dies hard. I never use my number. I only use his.

Then came the hard question. Do you have any current warrants for your arrest? Well, not that I know of. Once you stick my name in there, I guess we'll find out. The gun store guys didn't find that funny. at. all.

I also had to buy ammo...also called bullets. What sort of ammo did I want? I assumed ammo that fit. But alas...there are different grades of ammo. What kind of shooting did the new owner want to do. I had to answer that quite honestly the new owner and his brother were most likely going to shoot old cans off a log. (I assumed correctly.) Well that meant I wanted target grade. Cool, give me three boxes. I figured it was like batteries: you want to make sure you have enough to play with.

Next, I had to find a new holster for this new toy. Well, this particular store didn't have one exactly like ZooDad wanted to fit his new toy.
So I had to go to a different store.
I took the new pistol in with me. I guess it never really occurred to me that I couldn't. I figured was like buying a dress for a formal event. You carry the shoes you plan on wearing with you, to make sure the length is right.

The different store was a large hunting supply store. Very large...lots of hunting stuff. Many, many, many dead, deer heads all over and a unique mounted fish coffee table. It's in a old K-mart store to give you an idea of the sheer mass of hunting supplies.
I walked in with the new gun in it's case and announced to the first salesperson I saw that I had a gun and that I needed a holster for it. After a brief lookover, this employee decided I wasn't a terror threat, and opened the case so we could find the appropriate holster.
We found one, I bought it and went on my merry way.
I spent the next two weeks teasing ZooDad about the pistol that I may or may not have bought for him and chastising him for asking questions at Christmas time.

At least now I know for sure that there are no warrants for my arrest.