Something magical happens when you put on your uniform to go to work. Once you don you mob cap and tie your apron, you become an expert. In all matters ever conceived. You know everything about the American history, you know everything about Virginia, you know everything about everything. So people ask you questions to draw on your fantastic knowledge. Questions that you should know the answer to. Because you’re not longer a human being, you’re a walking costume with an internal reference library the size of The Library.
Here are just some of the questions that I have been supposed to know during my time at Tarpley’s. And keep in mind that adults all asked me these questions. I have not included any in the list asked by children.
“What was George Washington’s favorite meal at Christiana Campbell’s?”
It’s documented that George Washington dined at the ordinary run by Christiana Campbell during this time, but who the fuck knows what he ate? No one thought to write that down and George apparently wasn’t so taken with the food that he described it in a letter. Moreover, who cares? What would this knowledge do to help anyone, anywhere, ever? What can we do with the information of what George Washington liked to eat when he went to a tavern over 300 years ago?
“Are the vegetables boiling water canned or pressure bathed?”
I don’t know what either of those two terms mean. I have never canned vegetables in my life. The company that sends us this crap carelessly forgot to include this information. Because we all know how important to know which way something was canned. Right? I can only assume the difference between the two is life and death and you have to know which one it is in order to prepare it properly and save your entire family from being poisoned.
“What is pewter made out of?”
Hang on a sec, let me draw upon my extensive knowledge of metal work and alloys in order to answer this question for you. While I respect curiosity probably more than the average person, this is a question for Mr. Google. Not me.
“Where was this packaging made?”
Sometimes people are so dead set on getting everything made in America that even packaging made in a foreign land is not good enough. So now they expect you to not only know where every single item in the entire store was made, you now have to know where it was packaged and where said packaging came from. As if any of that fucking matters.
“Are beets in season?”
Do I look like a fucking Farmer’s Almanac? How in the world am I supposed to know that? And why would you even ask me? Again, Mr. Google can help you with that shit.