My ancient lawnmower grumpily skulked in my garden shed. It hated the sunshine and being removed from the cool dark cave. It hated, even more, being forced to start and did everything in its ageing power not to do any work.
First, it was spark plugs, and then the petrol wasn’t fresh enough. Then the oil was a teeny bit on the thick side. Next, the air filter had a bit of dust until finally, the primer decided to go out in sympathy.
I nursed it through many many visits to the mower shop where it got to hang out with its younger cousins, but the day finally came when the mower decided it would go no more.
I reluctantly took my ancient mower to the trash and treasure shop at the local tip, to give an enthusiastic hobbyist a chance to make it like new again.
I gave my mower a pat and a word of thanks for the 15 years of great service and then drove away. As I glanced back in the rear-view mirror, I caught a glimpse of it sitting sullenly in the sunshine.
A New Beginning

False Start
On first glance, it looked fantastic. It was filled to overflowing with rows of shiny new mowers all calling “pick me, pick me.” I paced up and down the aisles until I spotted my target mower, but given how it was displayed I needed a salesperson to take it down so I could test the handle position and manoeuvrability. However, there were no salespeople to be seen. I wandered aimlessly around the store for another 15 minutes trying to find a salesperson, before finally heading to the spare parts department. I could see three people at desks in offices just off the spare parts area. All were busily looking at magazines. All had perfected the art of not looking up or making eye contact, even under the strength of my mum stare that usually can make the most intractable child fall into line. The “let’s pretend I am not here” game continued for another 5 minutes until I finally said, “Excuse me. Can someone please sell me a mower?” One salesperson reluctantly ripped their gaze from the pages of the magazine they were looking at and pushed their chair back from the desk, with all the enthusiasm of a sulky teenager being told to leave their Call of Duty game when dinner is ready. “Which one lady?” “The Toro AWD” “Oh. That’s Mac’s (not his real name) area. I will see if I can find him.” The sulky teenager disappeared out the back. Muttering was heard, and then 5 minutes later Mac appeared. He pointed to the mower I had been looking at. “Here it is,” Mac said “Could you please bring it down, so I can test how it handles?” This was greeted with a deep sigh and rolled eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, he lifted it off the display stand and then shoved it on the ground. Then silently stood back. “So, can you tell me how the controls work as this is my first power mower?” Another sigh. “You hold this handle, and then squeeze this handle to the first one, and then reach out and squeeze this third one to the other two and then steer with your thumbs.” This was said in a fast monotone. I repeated back the instructions and then attempted to squeeze and hold three differently shaped handles that did not dovetail into each other, while simultaneously manoeuvring a massively heavy machine with spinning blades of death beneath them … only by my thumbs. It was not pretty. It was akin to patting your head and rubbing your stomach while dancing Swan Lake on pointe. “Are you sure this is how you use this machine? The design seems a bit clumsy.” “Yep.” “Well. That crosses the Toro off my list. Are there any other machines that have a better design for the power drive and emergency stop handles?” “Nope. They are all the same. It’s a bloke thing. You wouldn’t understand.” I could feel my all-to-well-known combined feelings of anger and shame explode in my stomach. I hated feeling ashamed that the salesperson obviously thought I was just a woman and that made me incapable of rational thought. Yes, I am a woman, but I can spot poor design when I see it. I left the shop seething and was about to head to the nearest chain store and buy the first machine I saw, when my youngest daughter loudly repeated to me, “Don’t rage shop. You will regret it!” I hate it when my kids have wisdom beyond their years!Hidden Zeal

Putting the Wow in
What was the feature that they all talked about most? Once they had gotten over the quietness and instant start, it was the headlights that the mower had. Now, headlights on a mower will probably be extremely rarely used. But they were enough of a wow factor to make people talk. When they were talking with their spouses, they would all say, “It does this and this and this … and it has headlights!” (Said in the same way that women comment about pockets in dresses). My new mower has now taken up proud pride of place in my garden shed. It feels like an over-excited puppy, itching to come out and play at a moment’s notice, and I am insanely proud of it.What do mowers have to do with your business?
