40. None of Your Doggone Dirty Business
My first job in NYC was at a pet food place. I was a brand rep for a local company, and I had to bug everyone who came in, trying to get them to buy one of our $3 sampler packs. I wasn’t allowed to give samples out, which is stupid—dogs will eat their own poop, so of course they’d eat our specially engineered, plant-infused, loose-stool-fixing treats, which would make their owners pick up a few bags, etc. But usually, people just said, “No thanks.”
One day I have to share a table with a rep from a rival company who’s passing out free samples left and right. Goes without saying she’s selling way more than I am. Finally, a woman comes in with two prissy little pugs in matching pink bows. I make my speech, she ignores me. The rival rep throws a few treats down; the dogs, of course, gobble them up. The lady says, “OK, I guess I’ll get a few packs.”
As she goes to check out, a quiet sound fills the store:
hork hork hork
We all look. It’s unmistakable. But we’re too late to stop it.
hork hork hork
The first pug projectile-vomits all over the second pug. The second pug projectile-vomits all over the rival dog-food rep. The woman slowly takes back the credit card she was handing over and rushes out of the store, her puke-covered dogs trailing behind.
The rival rep had to clean all the puke. I had to go outside I was laughing so hard.
