Working at the Tanning Salon...

I was living beyond my means in Arizona when I got the job I always dreamed I would get...when I was 16 years old. Eight years,two bachelors degrees and 3,000 miles later, I finally made that teenage dream a reality...

When I was in eighth grade, I convinced my parents to let me tan a handful of times before my graduation ceremony..and that was all it took. I loved the way my skin looked so much healthier and vibrant after a little time in the sun. Not only that...once I discovered the way having a tan made all my lipstick shades pop; made my skin clear up almost instantly; and made my legs appear thinner, I was hooked.

I may have been an idiot, but I wasn't a fool. I knew the risks. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the fear of cancer and wrinkles, but I was usually able to squelch those thoughts with a fabulous new outfit that only looked good with a nice tan or a rationalization or two. "Wrinkles, Shminkles. I'm not above getting plastic surgery one day..." or "I only use the beds that have more UVA not UVB lights....those are the lights that aren't as harmful...or was it the other way around?"

Therefore, you can imagine my excitement when I thought a tanning salon right by my home might be hiring. I was on the way home from a friend’s house one day when a large red sign caught my eye. It read “Grand Opening” and in smaller letters underneath that it said, "TANNING". I parked, got out of my car and looked at the large glass windows lining the storefront. Inside, I could see two leather couches, a display counter with a cash register and a tv. As far as I could tell, no one was working. I wondered if they were open. I decided to try pulling on the door.

When it opened, I walked inside, calling out, “Hello?” An extremely tan girl with mousy brown hair pulled up into a messy bun came running out from the back of the store. Breathlessly, she said, “Hey, sorry…were you waiting long? You here to tan?”

I stepped forward with my arm outstretched. “Hi. I’m Erin. I noticed your sign out front, and I was just wondering if you guys were looking for help. I work at a school during the day, but I could work evenings and weekends.”

She shook my hand awkwardly and seemed confused. “What sign did you say you saw?” I motioned toward the front door. “The big red sign that says ‘grand opening’?” She rolled her eyes and started wiping down the display counter with Windex. “Oh…that. Shawn puts that out there every now and then to attract new customers. Never had anyone come asking about a job before though.” I realized there was probably no job for me here. I sat down on the couch, feeling defeated.

“How long have you worked here?” I asked the girl out of curiosity. “Oh, not long. I’m really an accountant. Shawn…he’s the owner….well, he’s my friend…actually…my husband’s friend…but anyways, I got laid off and Shawn needed a manager for his store so…here I am…for now, at least. What about you? Why are you looking for a job if you already have a job?”

For some reason, this girl and I had instant rapport. I felt like I was talking to an old friend, and when I answered her questions, I wasn’t in interview mode, I was just being myself. “I’m broke. I love what I do, but it doesn’t pay much. I’m going to school part time, too and I refuse to alter my life plan.” She raised her eyebrows. I rambled on about wanting to get my masters degree and the order of classes I needed to take. She sat there and listened quietly, asking questions every now and then. I came to learn that her name was Lori. She was married and had two girls, ages 6 and 9.

After about an hour, my stomach started to growl. She noticed right away and starting organizing takeout menus. “You hungry? Me, too. You like Chinese?" Without waiting for a response, she continued, "Let’s get some China Express. I’ll call and order it and you can go pick it up. It’s right next door.” I nodded eagerly. I was starving. As we sat and ate Kung Pao Chicken, Lori decided to create a part time position for me at the Happy Valley Tanning Salon. I was ecstatic. Not only was this going to be a cake job where I could catch up on my schoolwork, but I got to tan for free as much as I wanted!

I was working at the tanning salon from 4-10pm four nights a week and on Saturdays and Sundays from 9a-6p. Just as I had predicted, it was pretty easy. I was able to read my textbooks, make notecards to study for tests, and color coordinate my classnotes; I could talk on the phone for free as much as I wanted; and (as if that weren't enough) I got enough tanning in to make my face into a leathery mitt well before I’m in my golden years.

Most of the customers were girls my age, teenagers or older women of varying ages. There were the teens that tried to tan more than one time in a day during Prom season. There were the prima donnas who asked me to watch their tiny dogs while they tanned (which I did...for a reasonable fee.) There were the new moms who tried to tan with their slumbering baby laying in a car seat next to them (which is a 'no no' in case you were wondering...) There were a few normal people that came in often, but mostly there were ALL kinds of nuts that made the tanning salon their home away from home.

One of the first Saturdays I was scheduled to work alone, the store was busier than I'd ever seen it. There were ten 'lay down' tanning beds; one 'super' bed; and two stand up units...and EVERY one of them was being used. There were also eight more people waiting in the tiny lobby. There were two people on each of the leather couches; two people standing near the far wall, pretending to shop for lotion and two people studying the flimsy jewelry in the glass case by the register.

"Are these real shark teeth?" I looked up from the towels I had been folding and regarded the 30-something no-neck muscled man in front of me. I thought back to the day the necklaces had arrived; when I had asked Lori the same question and I remembered her response. "Well, there are 30 of these things in here and they are all the same size, shape and color...what do you think?!" In that moment, I had felt so stupid...like I was some sort of niave boob. I decided to save this guy some embarassment...plus, to be honest, I worked on commission.

"Yeah. They're real alright. The guy who owns this place goes deep sea fishing every year...he usually catches at least two or three sharks on each trip." I said this non-challantly as I continued to fold the towels.

No-neck's eyes widened. "Really?" I nodded confidently. "Cool! I'll take it." I told him he had made a good decision as I took his money. Then I upsold him a bracelet, some lotion and a pair of overpriced sunglasses that were way too small for his face.

I know what you're thinking...I'm a terrible, heartless salesperson. It's not true. I'll admit, I MAY not have treated all of the customers equally, but it was with good reason. When you're working in the customer service industry, there are some people who just take advantage and No-neck was one of them.

No-neck always came in post-workout: a sweaty, smelly mess. He would leave a puddle of sweat in the bed and the whole place would smell for at least an hour after he had left.

Whenever I saw his muddy, school-bus yellow jeep pull up, I'd groan as I started turning on fans and opening windows. He'd come sauntering in with his arms held at awkward arcs (due to his excessive muscles) and grunt his name at me with a number which represented the amount of minutes he wanted to be in the bed.

At first, I tried not to judge him based on his appearance, smell and demeanor alone, but then, it happened.

It was a Tuesday night, and I was a little behind on cleaning the beds because American Idol had been on the small tv that was positioned in the corner of the store. I'd been procrastinating as I watched Simon crush young hopefuls' dreams. "Seacrest Out!" I turned off the tv with the remote, grabbed some cleaning solution and a rag and I headed toward the back to start cleaning.

I knew No-neck had used the last room on the left before I even went all the way in because I could smell his signature stench. It was like a mixture of dirty feet, old ham and mildew. A gag escaped me as I crossed the threshhold and I plugged my nose and coughed as I tried to stiffle it.

Then I saw it.

I couldn't believe it. I thought it had to be anything else than what I feared it was. There...on the tanning bed was a dark brown streak that looked unmistakenly like...well, doodies.

That's right folks, not only had No-neck stunk up the joint, he'd left behind a SKIDMARK! Right there, due south of his disgusting sweat puddle was an actual shit stain.

I recoiled in disgust and let out an anguished, "YOU. HAVE. GOT. TO. BE. SHITTING. ME!!!!!" (The irony of my remark was lost on me in that moment due to my preoccupation with the unpleasant task at hand...) That night, as I took in the sight and the incredibly intense and unremarkable odor, I had NO jovial thoughts. Instead, an inner dialogue something like this ran through my head: 'MOTHERFUCKER..I cannot even BELIEVE I have to clean up after this nasty stooge! How much do I make an hour? Is it six fucking dollars or is less than that? Whatever it is...it is NOT worth it!'

I sighed, took a deep breath and wiped down the bed as fast as I could. I then took the rag I had been using, keeping it at arm's length, and I ran down the hallway, screaming until I had whipped it into the open dumpster behind the building.

After that horrible incident, I thought of the skidmark every time No-neck came in. I couldn't help wondering if he intentionally left the streak behind. How did he not notice it before he left? Then again, why would anyone in their right mind want to leave poop stripes at a place they visit two or three times a week?!

I was DYING to ask him. However, I wanted to keep my professionalism. I couldn't rightly say, "Hey No-neck, thanks for leaving me the shit stain on your last visit, but I'm not allowed to accept tips."

Instead, EVERY time he came in following that day, as soon as his room was ready, I'd sweetly say, "We have a public restroom all the way at the end of the hall if you need to use it. You can use it ANY time...before OR after you tan."

If he had any self awareness about his own grossness, he never showed it. He even had the nerve to hit on me at one point! It was a Saturday, right before closing. No-neck was headed toward the front. (I knew because I could smell him coming...) I looked up from my textbook when he got closer and said, "See you next time!"

I realized he hadn't left yet after he had been standing in front of me for several minutes (like I said, his odor lingered so how was I supposed to know??).

"Studying?" Although this is what No-neck had intended to say, it came out more like, "S-uh-huh-ing?" I stared at him as I tried to figure out why he wasn't driving away in his Wrangler. "It's SA-TUR-DAY NIGHT!!! Wee oooh! I'm feelin pretty good!"

I had no idea what to say in response so I just smiled and said, "Mmmm Hmmm." I was trying to breathe out of my mouth without making it too obvious.

"I like to PAR-TAY on Saturdays!" He slapped the counter enthusiastically as he said this, sending a rack of lotion samples tumbling over.

"Cool." I said politely as I tried to refill the rack of spilled packets. My mouth was getting really dry from all this mouth breathing. When the hell was No-neck gonna get his stinky ass out of here???

"My buddies and I always go out to the bars in Tempe on Saturdays. So, you like to party?" I did a sort of half head nod/shrug which he took as a full out "YES". He smiled, reminding me of the kids at work that had just earned the right to dig through the candy jar. "You got a boyfriend?"

I was a little slow. It wasn't until that moment I realized No-neck Shit Stains was trying to hang out with me. FUCK. I wasn't prepared for this. I had no excuse ready and I was a pathetic liar.

"Oh...ah, well, no, not right now, and I would hang out with you guys, but I can't."

No-neck looked confused. I rushed on to say, "The owner has a strict policy, so..."
I didn't want to say too much (like I said, I'm a bad liar) so I left it at that, hoping No-neck would fill in the blanks and take a hint, but life is never that easy.

We were talking about a guy who thought it would be a good idea to hit on a girl when he smelled so bad, it took every fiber of my being not to gag in his presence.

As if I hadn't mentioned the owner's policies at all, No-neck kept talking. "You ever heard of 'Have a Nice Day Cafe'? It's not even really a cafe though...it's a bar. They got these really strong drinks that they serve in fishbowls and they got these sexy go go dancers up in cages. If you stand in the right spot, you can see right up their skirts and guess what? Some of them don't even wear no panties at all."

He was almost giddy as he recounted the details of the his favorite drinking hole. Again, I tried to very graciously and politely decline his offer to join him and his friends for drinks at the cafe that wasn't really a cafe, but he would NOT take a hint.

What was it going to take to get rid of this guy?! Unfortunately, No-neck was persistent or I was stupid, but I agreed to meet him and his friends that evening. Five vodka and lemonades later, I was laughing hysterically as I told all of my new friends INCLUDING No-Neck the story of finding the stinky surprise in the tanning bed.

In the sober light of day, I felt bad about my indiscretion, but when I never saw No-neck again, I KNEW it had been worth it.