Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Rocketman...Story part 2.

Just like in part one of the story, here is your warning.

I'm warning you queasy folks the following story belongs in a bio-hazard waste container. If you don't want to read anything of that nature, then click HERE.

Here we go.

Early into my marriage and motherhood, after a short misguided stint living in San Diego, we returned to Utah needing employment.

I knew that at any time I was welcome to return to my job at Jim Beam's but I was determined to use my smarts and talents to find stimulating employment elsewhere. I was successful. The local costume rental hired me to manage the costume department. I got to play dress up all day! I got to brush wigs and spray Lysol in the hats and cater to all the local drag queens and transvestites.

(Drag queens and transvestites...that wasn't unlike my stay in San Diego!)

This particular costume rental was a only a portion of a larger beauty supply/salon business. As such, I was required to also learn about all the fascinating traits of shampoo, acrylic nails and perms. I was trained to pierce ears with a gun.

Because I made stellar marks in my tanning bed training, and also because the tanning bed just happened to be located next to my costume area, I was put in charge of the tanning bed appointments and maintaining the bed. I didn't use the bed myself even though I could have if I desired and for free. I'm just very white. I almost sparkle. I would have burnt to a crisp within minutes, my moles would mutate, and suddenly I'd grow a Jeff Goldblum off my left shoulder.

...and Jeff wouldn't stop yakkin' either. Yak yak yak. Just shut up about The Big Chill already!

If I saw a tanning bed customer turning into The Fly I was allowed to ask that they lay off our bed for a while. That didn't stop them from laying on other tanning beds, but at least if they microwaved their own brains it wasn't my fault. Two of the three people I asked to stop using the bed were of this leathery variety. Here, have a free tube of no-orange fake bake, come back when you aren't a handbag and have a lovely day!

The third person did not get a tube of fake bake. She was simply asked to never return.

See, she broke the rules. The rules were simple too. The staff programs the time into the bed, don't ask for more. Use eye covers or else you'll go blind. Only one person in the tanning bed room at a time.

You know where this is going...

She brought her husband with her. She snuck him into the room. They locked the door. They then proceeded to demoralize the tanning bed.

We all know that sex performed properly is gooey, and that sex has a scent. The scent of sex multiplies significantly when all that goo is left to fry crispy on a hot tanning bed that has been programmed to run a half hour.

Did I mind cleaning and disinfecting the tanning bed before and after use? Well, gee, not normally. Do I mind cleaning evidence of your husband's joy off the tanning bed? Yes, I mind. I mind that very much.


After the nausea had abated somewhat but before we'd fanned all of that smell out of the store, my boss offered to call these tanning bed abusers to ban them indefinitely. I told her I'd do it but she should stay nearby in case hissy fits ensued.

Conversations like these are never very comfortable but I performed admirably. A hissy fit loomed but was stopped in it's tracks when I said the word "scraping". She felt sufficiently ashamed. They did not return.

I did experience other body fluid cleanup at the costume shop. People who intend to get very drunk on Halloween night return their costumes with interesting laundry stains on them. At least most of them tried to clean up after themselves because damned if they are going to lose their deposit.

Leave a deposit, lose your deposit, ya know.


  1. Day #2: Diet maintained yet again. Thank you.

  2. Gives a whole new meaning to Panama Jack.

  3. Between your band trips and work experience, you have led an interesting and kind of different life. Maybe it is just the way things have changed in the 30 years after you since I was those things.

    Do the Indian tribes in Utah sell more than the watered down beer? One of ours up here is totally dry, even in their casino, by choice since so many of their people have a problem with alcohol. They probably give up quite a bit of potential income but it does make a good statement.

  4. I don't believe so Dick. There aren't any Indian casinos or liquor stores in Utah that I know of. The only place you can buy liquor and full strength beer for use at home is in state run liquor stores. Woe be to you if the wrong person sees your car in the parking lot.

    The watered down beer selling laws vary from county to county, town to town, too. There is only one town in Utah County which allows the sale of beer in the grocery stores on Sunday.

    That's why the grocery store liquor section in my town is such good people watching. Utahns buying Arbor Mist. It's a hoot.


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