How does one become the office’s resident expert on wolf urine?
You begin with an unquenchable curiosity about seemingly everything. Top with uncanny reading skills and parents who don’t ask too many questions about what you’re reading and/or why, and you’re well on the way to being the resident expert on everything from three-sided daggers to influenza epidemics.
Expert is sort of a misleading word, because in most cases it merely means “person who knows jack about X.” Your average model citizen doesn’t care to learn about the hierarchy of predator urine, or the most excellent design of the Mini Cooper, which allows access to the fuel pump through a panel under the back seat (as God as my witness, I’ll never help remove a gas tank again).
It’s really just knowing a little bit about a lot of things. It’s fun at parties and helps fill awkward silences.
And there are worse things than having your boss remember that he can come to you with any Buffy the Vampire Slayer questions he may have. Sometimes being an amusing source of trivia is the best employment insurance you’ve got.
Tell me, if I pee around the perimeter of my house, will it stave of visits from Jehovah’s Witnesses and Mormons?
That should work, but it may attract ovulating women.
One of my earliest life goals was to learn a little bit about everything. I may not be an expert in any one subject, but I know enough about any subject to at least carry on a conversation.
Speaking of predator urine, I always think of that scene from Never Cry Wolf where Tyler drinks all the tea and then marks his campsite.