“Randy!” Amanda yelled across
“Hey, Randy!” Sarah echoed.
I waved my arms like a windmill
on steroids. I didn’t care whether the people in line at my register
thought I was crazy or not. Attention from these two girls was worth
it. It was special. Our paths didn’t cross as often at school as I
wished they would. But at least I could count on seeing them at least
several times every Saturday.
That was my day to work at The
Fancy Pig Dress-Up Shoppe.
The Fancy Pig was a
one-of-a-kind, mid-priced boutique of sorts. Its slogan—“If we can make
pigs look good enough to invite to a dinner party, imagine what we can
do for a beauty like you”—may have broken every marketing rule, but it
kept crowds of ladies coming in. Even from several towns away.
It was a good, clean, fun
slogan, and the townspeople never failed to grin at it. Our quality and
prices were good for smiles, not laughs, and that’s what really
So why would a manly fellow like
me choose to work in a place like that? You aren’t much of a guy if you
have to ask. Girls. As the only male working at the Fancy Pig, I got a
lot of attention.