Let's Get Physical

So, I’m working a 2nd job to help pay off debt more quickly. I know plenty of folks that are in the same boat. My 2nd job is part time, pays minimum wage – but there are some really fun people who work at the store. So, while the pay isn’t what I could get somewhere else, the coworkers, and the work itself isn’t bad.

I work for a premium Japanese convenience store in downtown Los Angeles. Movies stars & celebrities drop in, along with locals from the downtown region. I’ve been grifted in the store, and have made friends with some of my “regulars”.

As part of the hiring process, we were told we’d need an employment physical, the standard pee test in a cup sort of thing showing that you weren’t a drug user. For a place that pays minimum wage, they have really strict hiring standards. From physicals, to math tests, to background checks.

Anyway, I’d passed everything, and need to go for my physical prior to my probationary period expiring. Knowing that I’d have to pee in a cup later that afternoon, I’d drunk water at my regular job, and then had a nice large sports bottle of water in the car with me that I sipped as I drove the 30 miles in an hour and a half (Los Angeles traffic). By the time I arrived at the medical center in Redondo Beach I was really in need of the restroom.

I came in, filled out the paper work, and then was ushered into the back. Now this place isn’t a nice doctors office, it’s a transformed building that’s now serving as a sort of urgent care facility, but they also have a Dr. on staff to deal with company medicals.

As I head to the back, the nurse asks if I really want to work for this company. Which is kinda of a strange thing to ask, and I said, ‘we’ll, I have been working for them – it’s not so bad.’

“Oh” she answered as she finished taking down my weight. “Well, ok, come on in, we’ll need to do some back x-rays.”

Back x-rays??!!? My last physical hadn’t included a back x-ray.

I was told that the company wanted them done, so all of the folks went through it. Into the room, where she told me to remove my pants, my t-shirt could stay on and put on the robe, with the opening at the back. It was at this point that:
a. I wished I’d worn boxer briefs rather than just briefs today
b. I began composing my sternly worded phone call to my store manager who’d neglected to tell me I’d be “disrobing” for the physical
c. I was glad that though I wasn’t in boxer briefs, I was in new underwear that was cleanly laundered

After having to assist the nurse to find my belly button, and being turned over and x-rayed from several angles I was allowed to put my pants back on and follow the nurse to a room for the rest of the physical.

We passed boxes of latex gloves and I was sincerely hoping that there wasn’t yet another part to this physical that had not been mentioned to me.

The nurse then said we’d do the urine test and that she’d be right back with someone. The copious amount of water I’d consumed earlier now really needed to come out. It was at this point a young Hispanic male nurse came in and took me to the restroom, where he said he’d have to stay in there with me as this was a drug urine test. Meaning I couldn’t be trusted to pee on my own. Who knows what I might do. So he locked the door, and then like a bad hustler movie leaned against the wall, cocked one knee out while he rested his foot on the wall. I was pointed to the cups, asked me to write my name and then he just watched.

There is something really disconcerting about having to unbutton your fly, pull down your underwear, expose yourself and then pee in a cup. To make it worse, he added instructions, telling me that “filling it up halfway is ok”.

Like I might have wanted to overflow it, or reach back and take several of the cups and see just how many I could fill all the way to the top.

So, with this in mind, and my boy in hand I just couldn’t pee. For 45 seconds I just stood there, in front of the loo, cup in hand, looking down feeling his eyes on me as I’m not filling my cup to the requested halfway point. Not one drip, my bladder while completely full is in no way releasing any stream of pee.

Just as I’m about to say I can’t do this I remember my “yoga breath” from the classes I’ve been taking – “just breathe through a difficult situation”. Well, now’s a good a time as any to try this – as if I keep standing here, his eyes on the cup in one hand, penis in the other - one of us will have to ask each other for a number. And low and behold as I breathe I can pee – just a bit. I’m so thankful to get the thing quarter of the way full before the awareness of being watched kicks back in that I spill some urine down the side of the cup as I cover myself back up. Well, I thought it will have to do.

Yet another charming detail my manager had forgotten to mention. An audience as you urinate – how delightful. My phone rant just grew a little longer.

The rest of the physical was painlessly quick – check of the ears, throat, blood pressure – do you have allergies or family medical problems – then the Dr. showed me the door. I had to decline, asking if I could use the loo instead - as I really need to go now that no one was watching or telling me to fill something half way.

Oh I LOVE you. YOU! Sorry, who are you?

I miss id'd a celebrity today.

The ultimate faux pas in name recognition.

Alex Borstein came into the store - most notably for me she of MadTV fame. I was ringing her up & had a recollection that I knew her face - see, that’s my problem - I'm brilliant with faces, it's the names that hang me up. I looked at her, she looked at me, she too recognized the recognition dawning on my face. (Probably at this point with something approaching fear. Something that only celebrities get - that foreknowledge that someone is going to say something, and it's probably not going to be good...)

The conversation went something like this:
“Are you from MadTV?”
“Yes.”
“Are you Mo (Gaffney)?”
“No - I’m the other one, I'm Alex.”

That's probably where I should have left it, but no, wanting to make up for the foot in mouth I continued:

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!”
“It's ok.”
“You're the favorite one. People love your characters.”
“Umm, thanks.”
“Yeah at work we have MadTV on reruns, and people still love Ms. Swan.”

I MEAN WHAT WAS I THINKING? BUT NO, I DIDN'T STOP THERE:

“So, ah, what are you, um, do you teach any classes around here? Do you teach?”
“No, I don't like teaching.”
“Oh.... Well, here’s your change. Have a great evening.”

I still have that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach just thinking back on that conversation.

Still, at least I didn’t identify Vanessa Redgrave as Lynn Redgrave.

Who’s that girl?

The other week at work, one of the guys brought in pictures of his baby. The kid wasn’t that cute when we last saw pix, but I will admit it is at a very adorable stage right now.

The girls on the team were “ooohing” and “ahhhhing” like there was no tomorrow. The squeals they emitted were treading into whistle tone territory.

Well I figured I’d bring in my old baby pix and see what sort of reaction I got. Both times I got “who’s that cute little girl?” and “who’s the girl in the red dress?” I felt like a Madonna song title.

I guess that the “onesie” corduroy outfit my Dad had made wasn’t that clear in the picture that it was a one piece pant overall – but I really don’t think it looks *that* much like a dress.