Here’s an startling conclusion I came to today, working at PS: the best sales people are liars.

Astonishing, I know, especially because in this instance of enlightenment, I was the salesperson. I can convince a customer to buy (or not buy) anything, depending on how intelligently confident I appear to them.

It’s their fault, really, for not being better informed. If you’re going to walk into a pet store and invest a hundred (or two) dollars on a new pet or aquarium, you damn well better have done your homework. That’s why Google exists, after all.

It’s absolutely AMAZING, the number of customers come in with little to no knowledge of the new pet they expect to be taking home that day. It’s like it never occurred to them that their living, breathing, impulsive purchase might prefer not to sit around in their cardboard carry-home box while their new idiot owner spends an hour and a half trying to set up the easy-to-assemble new cage, water bottle, food dish, toys, and then run back to the pet store to buy the bedding he forgot to get on the first time around.

In my infinite wisdom, I think that in general, people are just LAZY. Why should they bother taking the time and energy to search the Internet or, oh I don’t know, read a book, when they can just walk into the pet store, look at me and say “I want to buy a rat,” and then wait for me to regurgitate the fact check-list on rodents’ needs and habits while they look bored and say “Okay, just get me a cart and show me everything I need.”

My personal favorite scenario is when a customer walks over to the fish section of the pet department and asks to speaks with “someone who knows aquariums.” They often look disbelieving when I assure them that I can actually answer any questions they might have. Yes, as a twenty-something female college student, I may not look like your average aquarium hobbyist, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t spent hours and hours of lunch breaks at work reading the fish encyclopedias from our aquatic book section. And then what usually happens is the customer, who as it turns out is an aquarium owner himself, asks me a really stupid question (one that he should have learned in Remedial Aquariums 101). Maybe something along the lines of, “My water is really cloudy, why?” When I ask my first diagnostic question: “How often do you perform water changes?” and the response is “Ummm… A water change?” I know I’m dealing with a tool who was too lazy to do his homework before he bought an aquarium.

Lucky for the customer, I happen to be a straight-forward, tell-it-like-it-is employee. I’m not going to talk you into buying a couple hundred dollars in bogus accessories that aren’t absolutely necessary for the well-being of your pet because frankly, I don’t paid a commission. So why bother? But the fact that, should I want to, I totally could, tells me that you are 1. lazy, 2. an idiot, or 3. both.

And people are always so amazed when I can thoroughly answer their questions, explaining the science behind the nitrogen cycle in a tropical aquarium or why cedar and pine shavings will give rodents a respiratory infection. “Wow,” they gasp, “I never knew that. You must have been doing this for a really long time?”

Not really; I just know how to read.

Once I finished grieving over the fact that last night was the last year Times Square spectators get to wear goofy “200_” glasses with the 0’s over the eyes, I decided this might be a good opportunity for an update. Not that I have anything spectacularly insightful to say. New Year’s Day is supposed to represent progress, movement, bright futures and overzealous resolutions; yet the more I reflect on my present situation, it seems this New Year is the opposite for me.

Driving home from the gas station Wednesday night, I was startled to notice that my car was getting progressively louder. I drive a ‘97 Nissan, and it’s always been a little bit rumbly, but we’re talking NASCAR-raceway kind of loud. When I started getting stares from other drivers, I knew it wasn’t just my imagination. I gently coasted to the nearest Monroe Muffler the next morning, where they confirmed my suspicions: 80% of my exhaust system had rusted out, and a major piece of pipe had fallen off the night before. 2 hours later, I forked over almost $600 for a substantially quieter ride.

And since that puts me a month and a half behind on my rent, I called the pet store on the way home, begging for my old job back. Yours truly will now be opening the pet care department at 6am on Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Which is funny, because at the top of my “Things I Am Thankful for this Holiday Season” list was: #1 – I don’t have to work at PS anymore! Oh, and by funny, I mean depressing.

I start again on the 14th.

I know that compared to some people, I have it easy – no terminal illnesses, no abusive relationships – but as the 14th looms closer and closer, it feels more and more like a death sentence. I mean really; who looks forward to wading around up to their elbows in guinea pig shit, cleaning out cages while the damn things run around like they’re on fire.

I just want to graduate and get a real job. One that doesn’t give me hives.

If you think you need a bigger pot for the spaghetti, suck it up and dig it out of the cupboard. Don’t be lazy and use the smaller one anyway.

Because when half the spaghetti is sticking out of the pot because it’s still dry, it might droop down, graze the flame under the pot, and catch on fire. And as it turns out, dry spaghetti burns very quickly.

During this fiasco, it registered quietly in my mind that we did have a fire extinguisher somewhere in the closet, but more prominent in my mind was the fact that this was all the spaghetti I had left.

A quick-thinking, boyscouting boyfriend and an air-tight pot lid came in handy and the fire was quickly extinguished. Most importantly, we saved most of the spaghetti. Lesson learned.

In other news -

• The Senate passed the healthcare bill!
• I somehow got through the fall semester. It was fantastic and awful, and much too long. I don’t usually have rough semesters, but this was one for the books. Still waiting for the rest of my  grades to come out, but I pulled off a B in “The American School” with only attending maybe six lectures. Which would mean that the only thing I learned from that class was how to bullshit my way through two papers and large presentation.
• Spent Christmas Eve playing piano at FCC’s Candelight Service. Got a chance to play clarinet with the “Christmas Band,” which makes SU’s Rotten Orange Orchestra sound like the New York Philarhomic. Also had the privilege of conducting the choir on a gospel piece – they are such an amazing group of people and I was so lucky to work with them! And I get to add vocal conducting to my growing list of musical experiences.

I leave you with the merry sounds of Santa surprise-conducting the SU orchestra – Happy Holidays.

I got my mom hooked on blogging. And just like running, she already does it much better (and much more often) than me. Eesh.

More thoughts on stuff later when I’m not sitting in Wind Ensemble, waiting for us to get to the first movement of the Husa concerto.