When I rented Jim Carrey’s “Liar, Liar” from the video store the other night, it got me to thinking. His son’s wish that this high-powered Dad would be incapable of telling a lie for just one day got the rubber-faced guy in a whole lot of trouble. To be perfectly honest, telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth would probably wreak havoc on our lives, too.
Think about it. Lying greases the skids of many social interactions:
As pet care professionals, we all fudge a little when dealing with our clients, too. Remember last Christmas when Mrs. O’Brien gave you that perfume that smelled like bug spray? If you were really truthful, you would have said it turned your stomach, not “Oh my! What an unusual scent!”
And when that gorgeous couple strolled in to show you their new baby, you peered into the carriage and cooed, “Isn’t he adorable?” In reality, you were thinking either the science of genetics is just one big crap shoot or this child has an ancestor who’s a dead ringer for Mr. Potato Head.
What about that nasty cat who belongs to the sweet old clergyman? “How was little Fluffy tonight?”, he inquired as he picked her up from grooming. You wanted to tell him she was right out of “The Exorcist.” You’ve never seen a cat’s head spin around like that before. As usual, you wimped out: “Well, Reverend, she was a little nervous. I guess she really doesn’t like being groomed.”
Sometimes I expect my nose to grow as long as Pinocchio’s when I’m sparing people’s feelings with these little white lies, but I’m not nearly as tolerant when others mangle the truth. I’ve had some employees who were world-class liars. One young woman was constantly requesting a day off due to a death in the family. Her relatives were dropping like flies but I stopped sympathizing when her mother died for the third time in five years.
Another turned out poodles who looked like they were wearing bulky leg warmers. When I questioned her about these unusual patterns, she insisted it was exactly what the owners requested. Oh sure - and did they want that topknot that flopped over one ear like a French beret too?
Another groomer was always embroidering her past exploits, inventing tales of how she had once dated Tom Cruise and how she was asked to pose for Playboy. (It must have been before she developed that glandular condition.) Maybe she was suffering from “pseudologica fantastica,” a personality disorder that allegedly causes people to tell grandiose lies. (I’m telling the truth here. This was actually used as a defense last year in a Massachusetts murder trial. The attorney explained that sufferers are driven by a need for attention. Unfortunately for his client, the jury didn’t believe him.)
My son the police officer says he’s heard some really inventive lies when he stops people for speeding:
We just have to look to our Presidents to realize that lying is more acceptable today than it was when George Washington owned up to whacking that cherry tree or Lincoln earned the nickname “Honest Abe.” Think of Nixon and Watergate, Reagan and Bush on the Iran Contra scandal or Clinton’s choirboy response to all those accusing women. Today’s politicians hire specialists to help them tell better lies. They call it “spin control.”
But things can get ugly when you get caught in your lies like my married neighbor who claimed he had to visit his mother at an out-of-state nursing home one weekend. His wife got suspicious when she found the receipt from the Cuddle ‘n Bubble Spa but this guy was good. “Mom’s doctors wanted her to have some hydro-massage therapy,” he explained, “It really did the trick, Hon. Mom threw away her walker!”
I dropped by yesterday and found his wife baking cookies for him to take along on the next nursing home visit. When I asked why she had that bag of DDT on the counter next to the flour and sugar, she flashed a wicked little smile. “Ants,” she said. Did I believe her? Well, I won’t swear to it.