Chafing

One of the worst things about when I worked at Red Robin was the bird suit. It surprises me how many people haven't seen it, but it's a mascot costume of Red the robin. You see through it's mouth, through black mesh, and it's almost impossible to see anything. So every Tuesday and Thursday from 5:30 to 6:30 Red would make an appearance. There was the bird, and the bird buddy, who kept the bird from hitting walls and knocking into trays or servers. Every host hated being the bird. The suit was incredibly hot and uncomfortable, and never got washed. The legs were yellow tights, similarly unwashed, so people also got an eyeful. Given my proportions, I made a ridiculous bird, the legs tiny and thin under the huge belly if the suit.

But for some reason every new host wanted to be the bird, at first. And of course we were never too keen on warning people how awful it was. For instance I never told the new girls that I'd almost thrown up on a day of 100 degree weather when our A/C was down. No one mentioned our inability to clean it, or the frustration of being unable to see jack all. We similarly neglected to mention the children that started bawling immediately at the monstrosity.

So it was that a new girl was exclaiming to me for weeks about how she wanted to try on the suit and I smiled a smug little smile and held my peace. And one day, it was just me and her on shift. Red is only scheduled for specific days, but on request for a birthday or a mentally retarded child, we're forced to put on the suit. Our manager came up and said there was a birthday who demanded to see Red, that he'd watch the front for us. "Perfect! She was just telling me how much she wants to be Red!" But my coworker seemed hesitant now with the actual prospect before her, "Now?" I frowned at her, "Yeah, it's fine, I'll be your buddy, I'll keep you from hitting anything, lets go."

She trails me reluctantly to dry storage where I bolt the door and we pulled down the trunk the suit is kept in. "Okay, so take off your pants, put on the tights, then step into the bird body and I'll zip you up, then we'll get the vest on, and the shoes and gloves. Head is very last." I look up and she's just standing there looking uncomfortable. "So you take off your pants and put on the tights..." She looks down and mumbles something. I frown. "Are you shy? I can face the wall while you change, I don't mind." She shakes her head miserably. "What is it? They're waiting."

In a tiny voice she whispers, "I'm not wearing underwear today." I stare at her. Jeans were the uniform, which means that she chose to wear no underwear with jeans. I'm torn between asking why the hell not and how she dealt with chafing, but she looks so mortified that I manage to bite my tongue. But one thing is certain, and it's that I'm not getting into that suit for love nor money.

 "Okay, look. There's two pairs if tights. This is the pair we don't wear as often. I'll face the wall, you put those on, then take them home and wash them afterward." We suited actions to words and I strolled her around the restaurant. Afterward she begged me to keep quiet, and I did (until now, but at least I didn't use her name, right?). I'm pretty sure those tights still haven't been laundered.