Not Your Nana's Sales Representative

Once upon a time, those persons who are paid to help you spend money you don't have were trained about how to do their job well. This training included, but was not limited to, teaching young persons how to arrange sellable items in appetizing fashions. Falling until "not limited to" were things like personal appearance, attitude, customer interaction, and ability to do subtraction without a computer.

The last went the way of the dinosaur about the time Cortez discovered Disneyland, but the other items in the list lasted until more recently. I thought. After all, I learned them when I worked in retail, and that wasn't too long ago. However. Comma.

After a fabulously enjoyable two days of shopping with my mom, I've decided that only grumpy, overly-made-up, poorly clothed, English-butchering chicks are hired by retail entities. No eye contact? No smile? No "Hello!"? No "What the fajita can I do for you?"? Nope. No nothing, in fact, but my being treated to the conversation above mentioned chick is having with her companion chick (sometimes a man-chick, which is a subject for another post) about hail, nails, altering surgeries, school grades, or whateverthehellelse she wants to talk about.

Sigh. My Nana would not approve.

*Cue Sarcastic Violins*

So, while completing my morning toilet, I was struck by a series of thoughts I wanted to post on the blog. They were good thoughts, and halfway through them would have been the bracketed indication: Cue Sarcastic Violins. Unfortunately, that bracket is all that still remains among my synapses. Can't remember a thing about the rest of my thoughts for the post. Oh well.




Cue sarcastic violins.

Wond'rous Strange

So, I decided to get off Facebook, effective the end of the month. No one that I've talked to, so far, has attempted to dissuade me from this resolution. I find this an interesting [tacit] commentary on Facebook itself--no one thinks it's so good for me that I ought to continue using it as a means of social networking. Having been pregnant at the time, I have no memory of how I voted during the Facebook debate last semester, but I think that (except for my continued effort to vote based on the debate presented and not necessarily my actual opinion) I think I would have been pretty down on it had the vote been offered me right now.

Of course, it doesn't necessarily have to be about Facebook itself. It's mostly about me, in fact. It seemed, honestly and truly, like I was in to Facebook because of a sense of personal fame that it gave me. There's a pride in seeing your status liked, or your photos viewed and commented upon, and I decided it wasn't for me. Besides, when you're sitting around on Facebook actively thinking, "You know, I'd really like to go do X project," but you never do it because you're sitting around on Facebook...well, it's time to quit.

If people want to email me, I'll email back. I'll return to the blog. Mary Beth has inspired me to only write something worth, well, writing. While I doubt I'm as capable of writing meaningful things as she, I know for a fact that I'll put more effort into it if it's on the blog. A status (or a tweet, or anything like it) just takes too little time. A blog post takes some thought. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end. And if I'm narcissistic about the blog, well by golly, at least I'm being prideful about something I actually put effort toward.

Finally, the whole thing is funny because I do this as I begin a spring full of scheduled responsibilities (i.e. raising child, teaching piano, caring for husband, going on travels) and I just know deep in the heart of my self that the blog will fall by the wayside as it always has. But oh well. Facebook, farewell. And good riddance.

p.s. I will continue, dear listeners, to utterly fail in my proofreading of blog posts. They are always ended upon the occasion of (a) the phone ringing, (b) the doorbell ringing, (c) my husband returning, or (d) the baby crying. I never finish a post a couple minutes before disaster strikes, so that I may carefully check for errors before A-D happens. I always finish because A-D is happening. And who's going to proofread during all that?