Work Weirdness

My friend Jan, in response to my post about Clowns, reminded me that she once had a job where she had to dress and act clownish. Not her idea of a good time.

When I graduated from college, I worked in a small ad agency and did a lot of things that they did not prepare me for during my education. Then I moved to the corporate world at the entry level. Yeah! I am a baby executive and I'll earn my stripes. I was hired in the marketing department to do mainly copy writing and some account service. This was the 80s and bank marketing involved a lot of branch openings. So, you coordinate the ribbon cutting ceremony, you arrange the coffee and danish, you get the proper city officials to appear, you coordinate the contests.

At the time, we had a children's savings account, "The Squirrel Account." It had lots of fun things for kids to help them learn about money management, savings and a coloring book that helped them learn some terminology. The Squirrel Account's mascot was Filbert the Squirrel. He showed up at branch openings and charmed the children.

At least twice, I had someone bail on me and I became Filbert at the last moment. I tried very hard not to imagine how many people had worn this heavy, sweaty, disgusting suit.

They did not train me for this in journalism school. But, I did it.

When my maniac dog barks at squirrels, I bark too. I've been a squirrel; I don't want to do it again.

Clowns

Clowns are creepy. I was afeared (crossword term) of them as a child and I have avoided them as an adult. It’s that big, painted-on fake smile. It’s that icky act of trying to be charming but instead it gives me the willies. It’s a bunch of them crawling out of a little car. I did this with girlfriends but none of us put on a wig and big shoes.

When I worked downtown in the corporate world, the circus would come to town at least once a year. It was about 2 blocks from my office so I could watch the elephant and tiger parade as they unloaded. The clowns lead various sections of the spectacle. I looked away.

I actually know people who have clown pictures hanging in their homes and/or in their children’s bedrooms. Don’t be surprised if these children grow up afraid of clowns or become serial killers.

The three-ring circus is not my fave. I get confused with the three rings. Is she going to fall off the trapeze? Is the elephant going to trample someone? Is the tiger going to strike his trainer? Is the kid next to me going to slop some more cotton candy on my lap? Did I truly pay to be this stressed out? My brain is not equipped to keep track of this many things at once.

Once they start bringing in the clowns, I am out of there.