After receiving a few more not-so-subtle comments from readers ‘suggesting’ I ditch the reflective thinking, the creative lists, the movie reviews, etc., I decided to take their advice. This week, in keeping w/ what was requested, I promise to do only what I do best and nothing more.
Make people laugh. At my expense.
That being said, this tale offers absolutely nothing of value beyond hopefully making you chuckle…
…..
One of the more coveted summer-time jobs at my alma mater was working reunions. Usually this meant either serving as a bellhop or a valet, schmoozing w/ alumni, and having them shower you w/ ungodly sums of tips (not in the order). And when I say ungodly amounts of tips, I mean like $2500 in three days. They’re long days, but damn if they aren’t lucrative ones…
The summer before my senior year, I was lucky enough to land a position as a bellhop for the 35th reunion. (Perfect age too…old enough to have loot, young enough to know what the going rates are)
The schedule for such as things is pretty self-explanatory. The first day, people register, you lug their stuff all over campus to whichever dorm rooms they’ve been assigned. The last day, you go and fetch their stuff. Straight-forward, right?
On day one, I was about half way through my first shift when a lady came to check in by herself. For her protection (b/c I am pretty sure she is google-able), I shall call her Sandra. Sandra was a recent widower who was meeting a couple she was friends with that had already checked in.
The polite way of describing Sandra would be to say she was a country club grandma to say the least. Simple math told me she was somewhere between 56 and 58. Her perfectly coiffed hair, seamless face, and toned skin put her somewhere more in her late-30’s to early-40’s. Suffice it to say, she clearly knew the best plastic surgeons anywhere in the country.
Assigned to Miss Sandra, I dutifully carried her two dozen bags up to her room and let her in using the master key. Her friends had accidentally picked hers up when they checked in. I then explained to her that I would run to get her another key and be back up w/ it.
No problem.
I was gone a total of maybe six minutes, but somehow in that time she managed to change from the slacks and blouse she had been wearing into white lace thong and a white cami. That’s it. Nothing else. (again, I must reiterate how impressive her surgeons, whoever they were, have been)
Six inches into the room I freeze, eyes wide, key extended in front of me. See, at this point, I am a 21 yr old still just two years removed from the farm, staring at a woman not-quite-but-almost old enough to be my grandmother. In her underwear. Barely.
Some people might have loved this. Might have come up w/ the perfect response. May have even swept her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom for whatever it was she was clearly after. My only response?
::blink blink blink::
After two or three painfully long, silent, minutes, Sandra finally got the hint that I was not about to make a move. Her response? Try to force my hand.
“Oh, I almost forgot your tip. My purse is just on the floor here.”
She then proceeded to execute the most flawless bend-and-snap ever performed. Comes back w/ $40 between her fingers and a devilish grin on her face.
My response this time? “Thanks,” while pulling the money free and turning for the door.
Not to go down w/o a fight…I felt Sandra’s hand sneak up the back of my leg and squeeze my rump as I stepped out of there as fast as a man my size can move.
The real kicker to the story? A few minutes later, I in my completely mortified state called Mama to relay how I had just been violated. Never once did I expect her to put me on speaker phone so the entire office could laugh uncontrollably.
Finally, to make the matter that much more traumatic, Mama, dear sweet, innocent, saintly, angelic Mama, said, “Gee D, $40 to cop a feel? Should have stuck around a while, imagine how much money you could have made!”
Now? I can't help but wonder what the answer to that question might have been. Anybody know the going rate to let someone two-and-a-half times your age get a handful these days??
