Wow. And sorry.

Hey! It's been a while.

My last shift at the diner was the day before Thanksgiving. I think giving two weeks' notice confused the managers, since most people quit during a spur of the moment temper tantrum or get fired for doing something really dumb. 

On the day before my big finale, I got into an explosive argument with the only waiter on staff because he accused me of knowingly stealing his silverware. I rarely get angry and I seldom raise my voice, but when I felt that this waiter blatantly belittled my moral integrity in the manner of a 14-year-old girl, my mind went foggy and I unleashed a verbal fury upon him while menacingly waving a barbed bread knife in his face. He looked scared. It was thrilling.

During my last diner shift I was overwhelmed with tables, which was really annoying. At the very end of the night, when I still had three very demanding tables going at once, I slipped on a wet patch of cole slaw (and you know how I feel about that stuff), did a split (that I wasn't aware I was capable of), smashed my shin into a booth (ruining my stockings forever), and yelled "Jesus Christ!" in front of all my customers (thus dashing my prospects of receiving decent tips). I thought of really sticking it to the man by shirking my silverware wrapping that night, but I'm too much of a goody-goody conformist. I didn't care about how much money I made that night, I just wanted to celebrate the time-honored tradition of Thanksgiving Eve. 

I'm still taking pet portraits for the Picture People at Petco. (Say that ten times fast!) It's still a ridiculous job. I don't know if I believe the economy is in shambles if people are more interested than ever in spending money on "professional" photographs of their animals. 

The Petco contract is actually expanding and not enough people have been hired to cover the new territory yet, so the big bosses have been sending us peons to faraway, exotic store locations such as Long Island. Because of this expansion, I haven't been working with PPL nearly as much--usually we are on our own somewhere. At first I was terrified of being alone on this job, but after being by myself three times so far, I have come to realize that it's so much less stressful without my partner. The positives of her absence simply outweigh the negatives.

Pros: 

• Her shameless and lyrically incorrect renditions of Petco radio's songs is entertaining, to say the least. 
• She has become one of the most interesting people in my life at present. Every day I learn about something new--for instance, the pot leaf tattoo she has been getting surgically removed from the middle of her chest. 
• We have a good system worked out where I take the pictures and edit them, and then she does the sale. I'd prefer to never conduct a sale; I hate seeing the look on the customer's face when they realize the needlessness of what they are purchasing. 

Cons:

• She thinks everyone walking into Petco is a secret shopper sent to catch us doing something wrong.  
• She sits the whole time balancing her checkbook and typing up elaborate, useless logs for our bosses about the weekend.
• If our supervisor calls me instead of her, PPL gets paranoid that it's because she did something wrong.  
• She leaves her open drinks next to valuable electronics on our wobbly sales desk.  
• She can only focus on one thing at a time, so if she's trying desperately to establish a nearby wireless connection when a customer comes in, logically, attaining an internet connection takes priority. 
• She's never there at the right time. Usually PPL is late, but sometimes she makes up a completely different, nonexistent start-time and wonders why I'm not there.

I realized that I've never provided an actual visual for what it is that I do. So now as I conclude this entry without further delay, I present you with two prime examples of my work (keep in mind these are phone pictures taken of a computer screen).

This one I call "Adorable,"

...and this one I call "Rats!"

A Big Ol' Recap #1

Ardmore, PA
This was the king of Petcos. Because of its location in the affluent Pennsylvania region known as the Main Line, this Petco was run more like a department store rather than a glorified pet shop. It consistently garnered the most sales in the region. For all the establishment's obvious advantages, it was home to the weirdest customers ever to walk the earth.

• Let me preface this by saying I believe myself to be a very open-minded and unbiased individual. I relish the idea of shattering hateful stereotypes, yet stereotypes in general fascinate me--there's some comfort in knowing you're not alone. Where do stereotypes come from? Do people know when they're following one? Do I adhere to any? Anyway, customers at this Petco had more stereotypes than Disney's Epcot. For fear of appearing intolerant, I'll leave it at this: a Jewish man was forcibly teaching his son the value of coupons. 
• A very elderly woman dressed head to toe in faux fur was confused and screaming ridiculous commands in the middle of the store. 
• I had no idea there were so many Hasidic Jews in Ardmore, Pennsylvania. 
• A sketchy foreign woman with no purse carried her money and credit cards under her shirt in her bra. When she took a credit card out, her boob came with it. She didn't seem to notice or care.
  
• For some reason, this Petco was constantly the approximate temperature of an ice box and as I was unprepared for this, I was freezing on Friday. Try as I might to appear warm, my cold misery was incredibly evident:
• Man (in a creepy voice)- "Want to know how I know you're cold?"
• Me (quickly becoming increasingly self conscious that he's talking about what is commonly referred to as smuggling peas, headlights are on, turkeys are done, highbeams, or erect nipples.)- "How....?"
• Man (suddenly quite scholarly)- "I can see your goosebumps. The hair on your arms is standing up. You know what that's called? It's called piloERECTION."
  
• Me (exhausted from getting creeped out, then relieved, then enlightened, then creeped out again)- "Thank you."
• There was a Panera Bread right next door. I know what you're thinking, "AWESOME!" and you're half right. I was thrilled to order an amazingly satisfying meal from enthusiastic workers for three days straight, but I was also terrified about the kind of trouble PPL would find herself in with the world wide web at her disposal. After yet another wonderful Panera lunch break, I came back to the store to find my partner smirking devilishly and typing on the computer. Turns out she was having a Facebook chat conversation of questionable morality with a 32-year-old she's never met before. Due to this chat, she had me take a picture of her with her cell phone so she could send it to this stranger (not the first time I've done this for her).
• At the very end of Sunday's shift at Petco, a female customer mistook me for a Petco employee. Upon realizing her dire mistake, she complimented my eyes. Then my face. Then my entire everything. She told me I looked like Karen Allen and Denise Richards (only she called her "that woman I never liked who was married to Charlie Sheen"). Somehow the conversation turned to how she's a germaphobe and won't go near any of her sick friends and then she stressed the importance of hand-washing this time of year. She took up 20 minutes of my time.
• On Friday, I talked a man into letting us photograph his dog. On Saturday, he brought his dog back for a session but then couldn't decide on a photo so he said he'd come back after he deliberated at home. On Sunday, he approached me, quickly flashed a USB flash drive and a wad of cash from his breast pocket, and said, "I want to make a deal with you and your partner." A grown man tried to bribe me for photographs of his dog.
  

Cue Stereotypical Early 20s Existential Crisis...

I've realized that both my jobs are perpetuating our society's downward spiral. After a lot of thought (probably too much thought) I've narrowed my jobs' evil contributions down to gluttony and materialism. I know there's nothing I can do; we have to work with what we are given, and so I am forced to profit from America's desire for stuff. 

There are about five "healthy" options in the diner's entire menu and so few people want them I don't even know where these meals are in the computer database I use to place orders. Diners are known for providing quick and greasy food, so I'm sure most dieters and members of the health conscious community steer clear of these establishments all together, but still, some things people order are just absurd. Sometimes I'm impressed by the creativity people use to turn a healthy meal into a delicious explosion of calories. You would be astounded by the amount of people I've witnessed struggling to squeeze themselves into diner booths and on several occasions I've had to try to tactfully advise customers to change tables for the sake of their own comfort. The looks on the faces of these people are incredibly heartbreaking, but my feelings for them become torn when they still order a chicken cheesesteak with extra provolone cheese and mayonnaise...but don't forget the diet Pepsi!

This week's Picture People conference call was thoroughly scathing. Territory manager was "deeply disappointed in this past weekend's performances." This weekend will likely include a surprise visit from this boss that I've never seen before, so rest assured I will be constantly on edge, dreaming anxious dreams, skipping lunch break so that I can babysit my partner, PPL, and on my best, overcompensating behavior from Friday through Sunday. Territory Manager feels that anything less than ten sessions per day in unacceptable, so from now on if we don't reach our goals each day he will call and assail our ears with more insincere business tactics and terminology. It's my opinion that Petco's contract with the Picture People is a last, dying attempt to garner more revenue--so, that being said, here's my valid, supportable question: what if my Petco only gets about ten customers per day?


I'm sorry if I offend any animal lovers, but I truly think that if you buy anything more than food, essential care items (flea medicine, etc.) and the occasional toy for your pet, you are mindlessly complying with the well-oiled machine that is the pet supply industry. Seriously, do you really need: 

• doggy rain coats,
• doggy life preservers (I do believe it's called the "doggy paddle" for a reason),
• toy mice with "realistic mouse sounds!",
• ferret t-shirts with phrases like "Grin and 'Ferret'",
• holiday pet toys (I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don't think animals follow religion or celebrate holidays),
• Bed Head, a high-end hair product company's animal equivalent, Pet Head,
  
• or professional pet portraits by the Picture People? 

"I hate pretty girls. How much longer do you guys have to stay?"

This weekend's Picture People gig brought me to a dying Petco on a busy commercial highway in Montgomeryville, Pennsylvania. Last week, the staff at the dying Petco in Willow Grove assured us that customers were plentiful, nicer, and looser with their money in Montgomeryville--you know that old saying, "the fur is always softer in the other Petco." This pet store was anything but prosperous, so needless to say, my days there weren't fruitful.
Friday:
No one showed much interest in pet portraits (surprise!) and we had one photography session all day. It involved 3 huge dogs--I snagged the customer, I took the pictures, I made the sale...did I mention I have a partner? 
At the end of the night, while we were packing up, the manager's 18-weeks-pregnant daughter came over with a coworker from her job next door for a smoking break (I know). Her coworker, Abe--he was dressed like Abraham Lincoln--asked for my name and said I looked familiar, so I told him that I get that all the time (which is absolutely true). He asked what our purpose was there and what the photo packages were, talked about all his many animals, said it was nice to meet us, and left to go smoke some more with the pregnant girl. The door had barely closed behind Abe when the manager, Beth, ran up to me and this is what followed:

Beth (gruff voice, abrasive tone)- "Yeah, so he's interested."
Me (fully aware of what was meant but completely opposed to admitting it)- "Oh! He wants a portrait?"
Beth- "No. He's interested in you. Ugh, God, does this happen everywhere you go? I hate pretty girls; you make me look bad. So, what's your deal? Are you seeing someone? Care to mess around on the side if you are?"
Me (knowing full well I have two more days to spend here and trying to diffuse the situation)- "Oh, how nice of him...!"
Beth- "He's super tall and works next door with my daughter!"
Me (wondering why she's telling me things I just saw with my own eyes...)- "Where do they work?"
Beth- "Oh my god, are those your real eyelashes? Ugh, when are you guys leaving? I hate pretty girls. They work at 6th Avenue Electronics. You could get a free television out of this...oh, and he drives a Mini Cooper."
Me (packing up my photography equipment at record speed)- "If I ever move out here to Montgomeryville, it's nice to know I have someone."

"Chin down, tilt your head, shoulders back, hands together, feet back...smile!"

I'm embarking on a new and exciting chapter of my life, while still pathetically clinging to the old and boring parts. Weeks ago, the gods smiled upon me in the form of a Craigslist job advertisement for a "mobile photographer;" I applied, I interviewed, I conquered. As it turned out, the job was for a fledgling unit of the photography company, the Picture People, whose sole purpose was taking animal portraits at Petcos all over the country. The company placed me (along with several new-hires from the northeast) in a nice hotel in Glen Burnie, Maryland--a suburb of Baltimore, full of bowling alleys and liquor stores with entertaining names like "Liquor Fair." For three days, a very learned and likable trainer, TJ, threw out oodles of details, procedures, and simulations. This mobile photography unit is a new venture for the Picture People so it's still rather unorganized and chaotic. The constant flow of new information made me feel lightheaded and tired, and, to top it all off, I had to spend over eight hours a day--usually cooped up in a hotel conference room--with twenty other trainees who were all chain smokers. Don't let my complaining fool you though, I had a great time. I had a king-size bed, a plasma tv, and premium movie channels all to myself (yes, my hotel room was ballin'!), there was a Qdoba just down the street, I got full pay for all these hours of torturous education, and I got along super swimmingly with TJ, my supervisor, and my teammate (though eight hours a day with these cigarette addicts was more than enough). Out of everyone I know, I never ever imagined that I would be the one to go on a full-fledged business trip.

Upon returning home I was greeted with the first Facebook friend request I've had in, what seems like, ages (I actually never saw said friend request, as my BFF/personal assistant logged on my account and accepted it while I was at a bar living up my diner-free Saturday night by playing the role of designated driver). This new Facebook friend was someone I had never heard of, but he included a little greeting stating that he knew TJ, TJ said I was cool, and TJ said we should talk. After his request was accepted, he wrote the same thing on my wall for all the Facebook world to see (gasp!). I have a few questions about this: 

• WAS THIS AN ATTEMPT AT A SET-UP?!
• Is it just me, or was this completely unprofessional on TJ's part?
• Did I seem desperately single while training in Maryland?
• Have I reached that accepted age where I'm supposed to always be paired with someone?
  
• Was my comment about being "doomed to end up a crazy cat lady" mistaken as a cry for help?

My teammate, PPL, is young, nice, and fun with a definite wild side, and on the job we balance each other well. That being said, I think she's a recovering drug addict. I'll tell you why:

• she went to art school,
• she graduated from college, yet takes classes of some sort on certain mornings,
• she attends meetings certain evenings,
• from what she's told me, these meetings appear to have attendants with questionable moral fiber,
• she has to take drug tests occasionally,
• and, last but not least, she asked me how much money I would require for my urine.

This past weekend was the first Petco gig of the quarter (like my business vocabulary?!), and it was quite an experience. The days were long and mostly boring: I stand by the door, tell people we're there taking pet portraits, people either get excited or weirded out, and we go from there. I don't have much conclusive evidence yet, but I'm fairly certain PPL scares away a majority of our customers with her strange, robotic, fragmented sales approach: "Wanna bring your pet back? For a portrait? We're here til 6?". Our set was situated right next to the cat adoption display, so basically everyone that approached it was guaranteed to be a weirder cat person than the last. With a serious, almost tearful look, a woman referred to one cat as "magical." A couple who I sold a bunch of photographs to was written up for beating their dog in the parking lot. Many people walked into the store thinking they had walked into a different store--one such man asked me for glue. I saw a mom strolling leisurely outside the store with her son who was dress head to toe as the Grim Reaper. My territory manager wanted us to get thirty photo sessions Friday through Sunday; we had a total of seven. Ah, the world of retail with it's excessively lofty goals.