Fuck Goldfish

As soon as I walked into work, someone proceeded to buy $67 worth of goldfish. I don't know how much you know about goldfish, but our mos expensive one is $4. Not only is that a lot of fish, but they chose in waves. First she wanted 3 fish, then 5, then the lady with her wanted 4, then they got 6 more for the one lady's daughter. So I have 14 bags of fish sitting in front of me when Jonathan starts hovering around me, which makes me extremely nervous. Before I knew it I lost my composure and couldn't remember what the last two fish I bagged were. The problem was that I vividly remembered pulling a fish from tank 10, but none of the tanks in front of me said 10. I only sorted it out after Jonathan left.

Before he left he gave me a nice little middle schoolish test to complete. The kind where each question answers the question before it. Such as "Why do you give a basket to people carrying more than 2 fish," following "What do you offer to someone for whom you just bagged 4 fish?" I didn't know what the fuck sodium thiosulfate is, but I think it's the aquarium salt we dump in every morning, which lead to another question about what aquarium salt does. Then there were two almost identical questions about what paper we write the results of a customer's water test on, which I didn't even know we were supposed to do, so I think it's safe to say I got those 4 completely wrong.

I've been meaning to blog more. I have like 4 blogs, but I never really do anything with them. I've been thinking of making another one, but I don't really keep up with the ones I have and I don't think a standard blog would really suite the needs of my ambitious ideas. I want to do so many things, but I never really feel like putting any effort into any of it.