06 February 2013

Weird Confession Wednesdays...

Many bloggers categorize their writing topically by days of the week: Wordless Wednesdays, Guest Post Fridays, etc. 
While I don't consider myself a blogger (I'm more of a "periodically-randomly-dump-my-thoughts-onto-the-internetter), I plan to dedicate Wednesdays to Weird Confessions. 
Just because I want to write fun stories. 
Nothing deep. 
Nothing meaningful. 
Just weird confessions about my life.


Weird Confession Wednesday: Teenage Employment

This week I'll begin by telling you about two jobs I held down after High School graduation. (Yes, after high school graduation. I was a spoiled rotten brat and my parents didn't make me work in high school so that I could "focus on my studies." Although, for a brief time, I worked at McDonald's during  the summer between my junior and senior year. But I quit when school started mostly because I didn't like the way my McD's hat squished my big hair.)

During the summer of 1994, right after I graduated, I worked at a party supply store called Party Giant -which went out of business shortly thereafter and all the locations were turned in to Staples.

All of the employees were required to wear Tuxedo T-Shirts (except the managers...they got to wear stylish purple polo shirts), like this:
When we paged one another over the intercom system, company policy dictated that we were to refer to one another as "Party Animal." For example, if someone needed a balloon bouquet while I was restocking shelves, one of my co-workers would page me, "Party Animal Jaime to the Service Center," because after all, I was a balloon specialist. To this day, I still know all kinds of weird information about helium balloons. 

One of my coworkers (who also happened to be one of my high school best friends) and I loved to page "Party Animal Wayne Newton" over the intercom. But only when the cool manager was working. We never got in trouble with him because he was amused by us. I am not sure what he found so amusing. We were ridiculous.

Then, a few years later, I did an internship in the Public Relations and Marketing Department of Mount Clemens General Hospital. At the Community Open House Grand Opening for one of the off-site clinics, The Intern was required to dress up as a popular children's character of the time. Bananas in Pajamas (apparently they are really popular in Australia still.) So, I donned one of these costumes:

I don't recall if I was dressed as B1 or B2. It's all kind of a dark, blurry mess in my brain now as you'll soon discover why.

At one point during the event, as I animatedly interacted with small children, one little girl wanted a hug. So I bent down to give her an awkward side hug, at which point my giant banana head fell off. I frantically scrambled to put the head back on in an effort to avoid as much future therapy for the child as possible. 

Once the head was back in place, the dear girl grabbed my hand. In all seriousness with the deep empathy of a five year old asked me, "Are you okay?!?!"

Needless to say, I was pretty relieved when that internship ended. Did I mention that is was unpaid?

So, in conclusion, dear, sweet, innocent 18-year old me, I take your hand in mine, look deep into your eyes (under insanely untweezed eyebrows, I might add) and say,  "It gets better." 

Sort of.

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