MOVarazzi

Monday, December 13, 2010

250. Crazed Day Of The Mini-Blogs

Read carefully, that says “Mini”, not “Miami”. I know, I know, you were probably hoping it said Miami, and let’s be honest, so was I (‘cause I do love Miami…). Okay, so here’s the deal. The Husband broke down and said, “Sweetie, let’s buy the new computer, my Christmas bonus will be here soon enough—come on, let’s do it!” I was feeling spontaneous and carefree (much like that time I had the hairdresser cut 11 inches off my long blonde hair, “why not?” My next-door neighbor has a bob, and it works on her…. I looked like a boy, and not a very attractive one at that). But I digress.  So. Computer is back-ordered. Will be here in January. Translation? We must coax and cajole the Dino-Vintage-Antique Computer into working for just a liiiiiitle bit longer (youcandoityoucandoityoucandoit!).

What does all this rambling mean? Alas, in the mean time, I am so fearful that the computer (“C” for short) will die at any moment (like when the red light comes on your car saying you need gas? and you ignore it?), that I thought I would write a quick itty-bitty (won’t take up much memory, C, I promise!) series of mini-blogs on various topics that are swarming around in my dyslexic brain.

Okay, here goes. Santa. Is Santa a Virgo? I thought he might be, because you would have to be insanely organized to pull off that sort of one-night madness, but when I Googled the phrase “Is Santa Claus a Virgo?” guess what? Zero results. I didn’t know it was physically cyberly possible to have zero results, unless, uh, you misspelled something (it is “Sanat Claus”, right?). And even if you did misspell a word, Google is oh-so-helpful and will provide what it thinks you might have meant (Dummy).
Yeah, yeah, Santa. Where was I. Here’s why he’s not Virgo: no self-respecting Virgo in his or her right mind would let 327 small children (many with colds and/ or lice) sit on his lap over and over and over at the mall all day long (did I mention lice?). Could you see Virgo Santa: “Sure, Connor, I will get you that Lego set….. hey Stephanie, can you get me some more of that Purex hand-sanitizer, please? Pronto?”

Next topic: my Good Morning Notes-To-Self. Last week, “get sled”, yesterday TRUCK, and today I glance at the list and see “Caroll”. People, I can’t make this stuff up. First of all, I absolutely do not know anyone named Caroll, and if I did, I assure you she wouldn’t spell her name this dumb way (oops, I think I just lost one “follower”, sorry Caroll!). So I stare at the name Caroll and wonder if I am supposed to meet friends to go Christmas caroling? Or if I have a haircut appointment with some new hair stylist named Caroll? The Husband is getting tired of me asking for his interpretations, so I have stopped pestering him. Hmmmmm. Caroll. Car—oll. Hmmm. Oh! Car oil! Need to get my car oil changed! (I feel like I just won the bonus round of Jeopardy, “For $800, what is Caroll?”).

Last mini-blog topic of the day: Buy Everything I Say. By now, if you have read even 3 or 20 of my last few blogs, you know that I work at a high-end kitchen store (is it quite possibly the one you are thinking of? yes). I'm working many many more hours than I typically do, because of the holiday demand (everyone seems to want a Spaceman spatula for Christmas or possibly a dual-purpose cherry-pitter/ olive-pitter). Here’s the thing: the customers where I work like to buy whatever the heck I suggest. I. Don’t. Get. It. Snowman Sugar Dumplings? I’ll take two! Reindeer Raisin-ettes Imported From France? How much? An espresso maker that also will also bake a chicken? Here's my MasterCard!

I must be a very good salesperson. I hear this a lot, from The Boss, from my co-workers, and from the victims customers themselves. That MOV! You should really promote her! She knows how to sell! What is my secret? I talk to the customers exactly the way I talk to my friends. If someone is looking at the Popsicle Magic Fun Kit, I will tell them not to get the Accessory Package. If a customer is looking at the “Universally-Loved Sugar Cookie Mix”, I will tell them to read the ingredients (uh, that would be sugar, flour, and vanilla—just $17, please!). I will tell them to buy the recipe book “The Joy of Cookies” instead. On the other hand, if the shopper is eye-balling Le Creuset, I will practically do a little dance of joy to let them know this is a wise purchase.

Complete strangers don’t feel pressured with me. They feel like I'm being honest with them, because I am. But if I really love a product, and it's $500, get ready to part with your wallet. I’ll make you want it, because who doesn’t need a gold-spray-painted 4-gallon Kitchen Aid Soup Dispenser right now this very second?

MOV
(Disclaimer: that is not a real product. Please do not call the high-end kitchen store and ask us to put one on hold for you.)

1 comment:

  1. You know, I think you're on to something with the salesperson thing. I HATE working in sales, because I hate it when my income is in part reliant on convincing someone to buy something. But I can do sponsorships and event exhibit sales, because I can be totally honest and let people know what's best. People have offered me sales jobs (gasp! no!) after being on the phone with me, because they say I'm such a good salesperson. But I'm not a good salesperson, I'm not telling them what I think they want to hear - I'm trying to be genuine. And when it works out for them, they think I'm a good salesperson. And when I talk someone out of it, no one thinks I am!

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When you write a comment, it makes me feel like I won the lottery or at the very least like I ate an ice-cream sundae. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I did just eat an ice-cream sundae.)