I have always been curious about what type of person takes those jobs that require one to stand in the middle of a busy intersection and hold a sign that says, "Going out of Business or Moving: Everything Must Go."
The businesses that require that type of advertising are usually electronics or furniture or appliance stores. I don't know that I have seen it with other types of businesses, but I do lead a sheltered life. :)
When the weather is less than pleasant, like rainy or really, really hot, I feel sorry for this person who has to stand out there and hold that sign. I want to roll down my window and throw them a twenty and wish them a inside job.
I don't mean "inside" job, I mean a job inside a building with a roof and air conditioning... with benefits.
Forget the benefits, the current world slipped my mind.
A month ago, my friend Edie and I went to Chick-Fil-a, a fast food restaurant, that in terms of fast food is always good. Because we hadn't seen each other in a while, we sat inside the restaurant.
As we sat there over our chicken sandwiches, we were accosted not once, not twice, not even three times, but six times by a person, unknown gender, dressed like a cow. This cow wandered from table to table giving folks high fives. Cute, if you are five yourself, but Edie and I are grown women with lots to talk about... we didn't need to be interrupted every five minutes by a six foot six black and white cow insisting on giving us high-fives. Neither Edie or I could figure out where the eyes were ---very disconcerting, and we guessed he was looking at us through its nostrils..... and chuckling like a wild man at how annoying he was.
Talk about embracing your anonymity.
Enough, costume cow. Enough.
Edie said, "This must be part of the stimulus package."
Edie is quite funny.
In the last five days, I have seen these these street sign holding employees three times --they work for the Liberty Tax Service, and not only are they holding a sign, but they are dressed as Miss Liberty.
Like, Miss Liberty costume... with their faces painted green.
This week is fairly typical for me: Bible study, a visit with my friend Celia who had knee surgery, a trip to the library, and lunch with Laura off of I-75. I'm on the road, blog readers.
Retirement is keeping me so busy.
These Liberty Tax Service's Miss Liberty costumed employees holding their signs seemed to be everywhere I traveled, and the three I saw personally were as different in body type, gender, and race as you could be.
Blog readers: How different in gender can you be?
Me: Trust me.
One of the things that cracks me up about these costumed Miss Liberty characters are also the range in personality.
The first one I saw was a young man, perhaps a tad rotund, who stood on the side of the street holding the sign for "Get Your Taxes Done Fast," and danced. He did the Watusi, the Penguin, the shake, and he did some other wild thangy that I can only say might imitate mating. He grinned, he gesticulated, and he passed the time entertaining himself.
I grinned as I passed him and thought, "that's the way to do it, buddy."
The next one was a middle-aged woman who sat all comfy on the side of the road in a folding chair, legs crossed, high heeled foot kicking out and back, and lazily holding the sign "Taxes Done Here" and smoking a cigarette. She looked like she was passing by and the real Miss Liberty asked her to adorn this costume, hold this sign, while she took a potty break.
I thought, "you go, girl. Make that work for ya."
The last one was my favorite. He was a sunglasses wearing Miss Liberty with a blond goatee and million dollar smile. His advantage -- he staked out his world right by a red light. His victims pulled up to the light, and when I was stopped there, he leaned over and peered and grinned right into my passenger window. Since it was sunny Wednesday, I had the sun roof back, and he huskily purred, "hey baby, I bet I could hustle you some tax cuts, and we could treat ourselves to a nude beach in Waikiki!"
I don't imagine that I was the first one he had said that to.
As I pulled away from that stoplight, I guffawed. What a riot that guy was --- I can imagine the stories he can tell about the reactions he got to his line.
I told David about the guy offering me that line, and David said, " I don't think Waikiki has a nude beach."
You gotta love David, and he's totally wrong. I looked it up on the Internet. Waikiki does.