Embarassing moment #2 - The Fribble

High School went by fairly quickly for me except for a few moments which have stuck in my memory like pit stains on a comfortable tee shirt. Like embarrassing moment #1, this one takes place in 1987 but stateside and in a Friendly’s restaurant. Friendly’s, for those unfamiliar with the regional chain, is a restaurant whose main attraction is a large assortment of frozen treats.

I had worked there for what seemed like years teenage-time (which translates into two summers real person time) and I had worked there long enough to look the part. I had my standard issue polyester pants, neatly tucked in matching polyester shirt, a developing Popeye forearm on my ‘scooping arm’ and a little badge proudly displaying my rank in the organization by the number of tiny ice cream cones beneath my name. If I recall correctly, and I highly doubt that I do, I was a two cone crew member. Considering you get one cone for successfully watching a video, I clearly wasn’t very high on the frozen food chain.

I had been working fountain, which means I worked the desserts. This ranged from the Crowd Pleaser (a short lived promotional 8 scoop experiment in gluttony) to single scoop ice cream cones. Somewhere on that continuum lies the shakes category. While ice cream parlors all over the world were satisfied with simply tweaking the original recipe of ice cream + milk + syrup, Friendly’s was busy innovating. After what I’m sure was grueling months in the lab and extensive market research, they invented THE FRIBBLE (Which is the same thing as a milk shake but make with’ ice milk’ instead of ‘ice cream’, flavored only by the syrup).

Truth be told, a milk shake and a Fribble were, at their core, similarly delicious with Fribbles being a little sweeter. The real difference, however, came with consistency. I don’t pretend to understand ice milk at the molecular level, but as far as thick shakes were concerned, ice milk contained some serious thickness mojo.

I’m a big fan of thick shakes and accordingly I had become a master at creating the extra thick Fribble. With ice milk already making a thicker than normal milk shake, that is like saying that I was a master at making extra hard cement. The Friendly’s Fribble recipe called for 3 scoops of ice milk, but as a Fribble artiste, I laughed at their 3-scoop suggestion. You could easily pack 7 scoops into that mixing frappe, saving just enough space to drizzle in the milk and syrup.

On this fateful day I had concocted what I had deemed at the time to be ‘Fribble perfection’ for my 15 minute break. It was the craziest makes-molasses-look-runny Fribble that I had ever created. The mixing machine almost ground to a halt straining against the compressed ice milk. It ended up being so thick that I didn’t even insult it by bringing a straw with me to the break area.

The ‘break area’ at this particular Friendly’s, interestingly enough, was an unused table out with the other customers. In retrospect, I’m not sure why anybody thought this was a good idea. Crew members would spread out various things on the table, carry on and generally be disgusting. This would be like me inviting guests to my home only to have my underwear hanging out to dry in a line across my living room. But I digress….

So I sat down in my break booth and let the clanking, slurping, chattering and bustling of patrons and wait staff alike melt away as, just for a moment, I marveled at my Fribble's beauty...

(Please excuse the strawberryness of this Fribble picture, I can’t seem to find an online picture of a chocolate Fribble.)

After completing my moment of appreciation, I slowly tilted the Fribble to my waiting lips intending to savor every drop from start to finish and….

Nothing happened. The Fribble didn’t move at all. Acting much more like a solid than any shake I’d ever made or even seen, the smooth plane of the fribble was unphased by my modest tilt of the glass. Well, not to be intimidated by my beverage, I got more serious with my angle and brought it to about 90 degerees…

Amazingly, all that happened was more nothing, which, quite honestly, looked rather freakish. I had never seen the surface of a drink remain intact and unmoved with the glass clearly in spill position. I was actually rather amused by the silliness of it. Here is where I have to admit that my actions, if they haven’t already, deviated from a ‘reasonable person’s’ behavior. A reasonable person might say, “Hey, look at this! Cool. I think I’ll get a spoon.” Not being a reasonable person, I continued to tilt the glass...

Now the Fribble was being down right ridiculous. Instead of sliding down neatly onto my eager taste buds, it chose to make a mockery of Sir Iaasic Newton. Well, now I was starting to get impatient. I’d spent a precious 2 minutes of my break and I hadn’t yet begun to enjoy my Fribble. So, in a move that defies both logic and reason, accessing my ketchup bottle skills, I reached up to the bottom of the cup with my free hand and did a little … tap tap.

The next thing I heard was this...

As for what it looked like, I can’t tell you because my vision was quickly blurred, but a rubbernecking waitress (her name was Denise) dropping a tray of food due to an uncontrollable fit of the giggles should give you some indication of the spectacle’s immediate impact.

The bulk of the load hit my face and slid down my front with an opportunistic portion channeling its way into the collar of my shirt. The immediate shock of cold against my skin made me stand up quickly. While standing there, essentially frozen but freaking out on the inside, my neatly tucked in shirt proved to be an ideal funnel for a large amount of chocolate ice milk to flow directly into my no longer tidy whities.

What I can tell you first hand, is that if you are feeling lethargic and need to sharpen up your senses quickly, forget coffee. Just pour an ice cold Fribble on your junk. Not only does the world start to appear in bullet time slow motion but, as a bonus, your legs are well lubricated to give you that extra burst of speed.

In any case, you’ll likely not be surprised to learn that I had not packed a fresh pair of underwear with me to work that day. And it’s not like they had a special provision in the Friendly’s handbook, for idiots who Fribble themselves, to run home and freshen up. If they did, ‘Fribbling’ would become part of everyday work-speak. As in, “It was completely insane in there, I had no choice but to Fribble myself.” Or to a very close co-worker, “What do you say we Fribble ourselves out of here and clean the ice milk out of each others hard to reach areas.”

No, it doesn’t work that way. Instead, I had to slosh my way over to the utility sink leaving a crime scene like trail of chocolate behind me. I used the remaining 13 minutes of my break to sop up what I could and spent the remainder of my shift with shirt and pants branded with the glacial path. If you think scooping ice cream to long waiting customers is tough, trying doing it with Fribble soaked underwear and every other customer trying to find a way to ask me what happened. These comments ranged from the obvious, "What happened to you?" to the more creative, "They really should give you more bathroom breaks."

As for Denise, the waitress, and the rest of my crew members who share this memory, I take comfort in knowing that despite the hard hours and the low pay of the food services industry, everyone who got to work with me that day got a memory and a story that they will take with themselves long after their Friendly’s money is gone. I know that is true for me in any case.

Until next time...

Claude

Embarassing moment #1 - Soviet Union

My life is filled with embarrassing moments and I inexplicably find myself voluntarily sharing them. Perhaps it is a noble attempt to warn those who are teetering on the brink of being an idiot and haven’t yet decided to take the plunge but, in truth, I think it is just an attempt to let you know that as bad as your day is, it could be worse.

In high school I was part of the chorale (which is a fancy way of saying that I was in chorus) and we were given the opportunity to sing in the Soviet Union. This was 1987 when the cold war was only recently thawed. It was a wonderful experience and I met some really interesting people, but the best part about it was that I was going on a week long sleepover party with some of the hottest girls in the school.

Mind you, I’m no ladies man, but I had one thing going for me. This was mid-wrestling season. I had rock hard abs and I wasn’t afraid to use them. If I could have found a way to show them off and impress just one of our traveling nymphs, I’d be set. But, unfortunately, real life isn’t filled with those soap opera moments of ‘Excuse me, do you mind if I change out of this while we continue our conversation?’

Much to my surprise and delight, however, a situation had developed one cold night in a Leningrad hotel. A bunch of us were up late talking about nothing as teenagers are wont to do. As for exactly who was there, my brain in the intervening years has narrowed it down to ‘A bunch of people and Tammy Wolfarth’. Tammy was, to my teenage brain, a walking brain aneurysm. By that I mean that any time she might say something to me, all brain activity stopped and I was left with little more than incoherent babble and a small voice in my head that said nothing more than, ‘Did you just say that? What a loser.’

ANYWAY, somebody had asked me if they could please punch me in the stomach. As oddly polite and sadistic as that sounds, it made sense to me. You see, on rare occasion, I had allowed people to do this before because, excuse the lack of modesty, in the peak of wrestling season they were more likely to get hurt than me. Interestingly, that little voice in my head was delighted. I could impress Tammy and I wouldn’t even have to speak. Plan formed.

So I let (blurry memory from my past) punch me in the stomach. It makes an impressive THUNK and I chance a glance at Tammy. To my great surprise, she seems intrigued. I tell blurry memory to do it again. And he does. Tammy comes over. Fighting through the aneurysm I manage to say, “Hey Tammy.” Little voice was quite impressed with my almost causal greeting.

‘Hey’ she says.

‘You want to give it a try?’ Little voice ponders and thinks that this is a good move. Minimal talking while showing her first hand what a washboard feels like.

A little hesitant at first but curious, she says, “OK”

Keep in mind that I’m not the least bit concerned for myself here. First of all, blurry memory hit me twice as hard as she could have even if she went to the same pharmacy as Barry Bonds . She was five foot three tops and I would be surprised if her weight was measured in 3 digits. That said, she made a good show of it. She put down her water glass, rolled up her sleeves and assumed a passable boxers bounce before saying, “Ready?”

I had never been so ready for anything in my life. My abs were contracted so hard I was afraid she was going to break every bone in her little hand, but I didn’t care. This was my moment to shine. This was my moment to prove to her that I had the stuff to at least make her consider me. Unfortunately, as her fist came to a stop on my abs, it was also my moment to pass some gas.

The little voice laughed himself to death.

If I were cool, I could have said, “I meant to say pull my finger.” And played it off like a small joke.

If I were quicker, I could have said, “Tammy! So not cool.”

But, much to my chagrin, I’m neither cool nor quick. I stood there like a deer that had farted in the headlights. Not sure if that damages the car in any way, but if the car vent isn’t on recycle, the occupants are in for a treat.

Tammy was almost as embarrassed as me. She slinked away while blurry memories all around me laughed till they were sore. In retrospect, I have to concede the humor, but at the time though, my teenage self would have given away his new commodore 128 for a chance to turn back time for 10 seconds.

I’d like to say that this was an isolated incident and I never embarrassed myself again. I’d also like to say that I’m the supreme ruler of the universe. Sadly for me, and lucky for the universe, neither of these are true. Until next time…..

Claude