From the most fresh-faced grom to the saltiest wrench, to the twenty-plus year veteran of the sales floor, the first rule of working in a bike shop is the hardest to master. You will be tested and tested again and there is no reward, absolutely zero credit given, for passing. The consequences for f***ing-up vary by the size and frequency of your failures, but all you have in this industry is your reputation, and being branded a bungler is significantly worse than a mild berating. 

The frequency of testing ebbs and flows through the year. I find for myself, it’s actually easier to stay on the wagon when the trials are coming multiple times a day. In the slower months, the ebb and flow can lull me into a false state of solicitousness. Somehow knowing full well that the raccoon-of-my-own-stupidity is going to maul my face with impunity when I try to snuggle it is not always enough to keep me safe from the intrigues swirling around the store.  

Whether an individual is bold or bashful in making their request, never doubt the yawning canopy of their machinations when they come slinking up to you, slithering even, just needing an itsy bitsy, teenie weenie, consideration. Co-workers & customers & suppliers, oh my! They’re slippery, all of them. Electric eels who grew limbs in order to ride bicycles but can still ambivalently shock you if you step into their pool. 

“Can you squeeze me in?” they ask innocently, as they attempt to morph through the pile of repair bikes booked in front of them. “What day will my widget arrive?” they quietly query, their false pacification almost soothing enough to lull you into making a general commitment. “I won’t hold you to it,” they say as their minds 3D-print whatever they want to hear onto a titanium tablet – you can actually see “WELL, ANDREW PROMISED” being written into the script for next week’s episode of ‘One Bike To Ride.’ 

You just agreed to “fit in” a fork lower service? Guess who’s staying late to do a fork lower service? Oh, you don’t know how to do a fork lower service – sucks to be you and the person who thought they were queue jumping their way into a bike ride tomorrow. If you said they’d get a call when certain inventory arrived you had best be cross-checking your list of names against fresh products every. damned. day. The potential pitfalls are infinite.

And quite simply, that’s the first rule of working in a bike shop. Never promise what you cannot deliver yourself.