Some big news concerning the Matthews Family Band.

I have what the tech-savvy youth call a side gig.  While writing is my primary passion and vocation, not all writers make Stephen King, Danielle Steel money.  My financial remuneration for scribbling is more along the lines of grocery list writers and bathroom stall philosophers.

A girl gotta make some bank somehow, Gentle Reader.

So, I assessed my skill set.  And, what I may (no may about it) do better than writing, is talking.  I’m also naturally friendly and someone who can talk to anyone.  Except for Tammy Faye Baker; she and Jim had a kids’ show that I loved when I was little.  I met her years ago and humiliated myself by sobbing. 

And Henry Winkler, the classically trained actor best known for his role as the uber-cool Fonz on Happy Days.  When I met him, I lost the power of coherent speech.  Did you know one can actually make that cartoon, “hummina-hummina” sound when overwhelmed?

Anyway, those talents mean I’m a pretty good salesperson. 

I got a job with a car dealership here in town.  After a week of video classes, and two days of getting to drive every fully loaded model (insanely fun), I actually start attempting to sell cars tomorrow.

Telling you, Gentle Reader, where I’m working would be hugely unethical, so I won’t.  But, I answer each and every note sent to my contact email—just saying.

I’ve had a few surprises concerning this new venture.

Contrary to the cliché, I’ve not met any sleazy, slippery dudes out to sell you a lemon, and steal your wives and daughters.  They’ve all been genuinely nice to me.  And not a sharkskin suit among them.

Brand-new cars come off the truck with just enough gas to get them to a parking spot.  Which makes sense, you don’t want a bunch of full gas tanks collected onto a big truck for a long trip on the highway.  Your friendly neighborhood salesperson gasses them up at a local gas station. In the past few days, I’ve filled up seven or eight shiny new vehicles.

And not every salesperson has an office, or a desk out in the showroom.

There is a whole room full of cubicles for the newbies and such.  I’ve taken to calling it the bullpen.  In the bullpen, there are also a couple of people who schedule service appointments.

The other day I was at my desk when I heard one of the schedulers talking about locksmiths and tow trucks.  When he hung up, he said to me, “I may have offended him.”

It seems the poor guy had locked his wallet in the glove compartment and then lost his car keys.  My co-worker informed him that locking his wallet in the glove box was a bad idea. 

“Do you think that might have made him angry?”

I replied, “I’m sure as soon as he realized he couldn’t get to his wallet, he knew putting it there was a dumb idea.  So, yeah, I think you offended him.”

I know that’s true, because Petey thinks it’s hilarious to tell me that I shouldn’t have done whatever action it was that was so dumb it re-sunk the Titanic.

It’s infuriating.

So, when someone around you has done something feeble-minded that has resulted in anything from a minor inconvenience to a full-on disaster, don’t tell them that.  I promise you, they already know.

Instead, nurture, comfort, and commiserate.  It may not be as funny, but it will be met with gratitude and affection.  And nobody will be tempted to punch you in the nose.

Thanks for your time.

Contact me at d@bullcity.mom.