Welcome to Horrors & Hoots: A Glance Back at Jen’s Educational Experiences. In honor of me starting my Bachelor’s Degree program last night, this week will feature stories from my community college and beauty school educations…my only challenge now? Trying to fit years of horrors and hoots into just one week!
It had been a pretty average week for me. I had only received two parking tickets in downtown Minneapolis and the windchill had only been fluctuating around the negative 40 degrees mark (and I only had 1 mitten)…you know average.
I was assigned to the “dispensary” that cold winter day – which means I was the person who “dispensed” beauty proucts, oils and masks to my fellow students during their client’s facials, along with washing the spa sheets and keeping the spa floor in working order. Enjoying my break from giving facials, I whistled while I worked as people came in to compliment me on my sheet folding skills. I told them it was one of my jobs to fold sheets for a year in Oregon, working at a Young Life Camp. One girl in particular was interested in my experience, so she sat down in a folding chair in the little dispensary room as I continued to fold sheets from the dryer. Before I knew it, I found myself in a great conversation with this wonderful girl who had been burned by the church about the difference between “religion” and “relationship”. As I worked and we talked, I decided to stack 5 gallon detergent buckets to make more floorspace.
BRILLIANT, you say.
There I stood, well, moreso there I was stand-squatting, awkwardly holding a 5 gallon bucket in my arms while trying to shove the other one with my foot. Squatting, holding, balancing and shoving are not meant to be done all at once. Unfortunately, I had to find that out the hard way. Throughout this process, I continued huffing and puffing out a conversation with this girl when mid-sentence, the entire contents of the bucket I was holding burst out, burying me up to my knees in powdered detergent. Billows of white powder filled the room as we squinted and coughed, waving our arms wildly in the air to clear the clouds. When the dust finally settled, I found all eyes on me as other students and instructors heard all the commotion and poured into this small 5×10 ft. room. I laughed, blurting out, “Not to worry! Its just a little spill!” Quickly bending over to start scooping detergent back into the bucket, a loud RIIIIIIPPPPPP broke the silence. My black dress pants decided it would be an opportune moment to split open 6 inches up the backside.
There I was, fully bent over, cemented into a mountain of detergent with my pants split wiiiide open. The good news is, they never did kick me out of beauty school. The bad news is, that was my only pair of black pants…and there was still 5 more hours of school!