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Tuesday, 08 July 2008

Hair Today, Hair Gone - Today

By Granny Annie of Fools Rush In

Wigs were very popular in the 1960s. My own hair was lush and full and beautiful then, but I wore wigs because they were quite popular. I had a frosted wig, a blonde wig, a brown wig and various hair pieces. I was quite the cutie in the workplace with all my other wigged friends.

The little local bank where I worked printed their customers’ checks. This was before MICR encoding of the black magnetic numbers at the bottom of each check. The customer could come to the bank and pick up a book of their personalized checks as they needed them. These extra checks were kept in the basement of our building.

Otto (name changed to protect the not-so-innocent) was the security guard/janitor/check printer/storeroom supervisor. He believed himself to be dashing in his security guard uniform but he was rarely guarding because he was busy in the basement filling check orders or trying to trap unsuspecting females in the basement with him.

There was a large chimney-like column in the bank lobby with about a twelve to fourteen inch square opening on the side covered by a sliding door. The bank had a dumbwaiter in this decorative column. The CSR (customer service representative) would place the order on the dumbwaiter tray and send it to the basement. A bell would ring and Otto would fill the order and send the tray back up. A second bell would ring when the check order was ready.

If Otto did not respond to the first bell, that meant he was not in the basement and the CSR would have to go downstairs and pull the order. That scenario was avoided at all costs because there was a good chance Otto could return and trap the female employee, subjecting her to rude comments, roving eyes and roving hands.

This particular day I sent an order and after a brief wait, Otto did not respond. I pulled the rope causing the bell in the basement to ding again. Still no response. Since I did not want to go downstairs, I leaned my head inside the door and peered at the untouched order in the tray. Trying not to attract attention, I softly called, “Otto. Otto. Otto.”

“I’m on my way.” I heard much to my relief.

Backing out of the dumbwaiter, my hair caught the top of the door panel. My brown wig was yanked off my head and hurled into the basement just as Otto reached in for the check order.

Otto emitted some high pitched screams as he danced around in the basement trying to shake my wig off of his arm. He believed it was a critter attacking him. I emerged from the dumbwaiter into the bank lobby. My hair that had been hidden by the now missing wig was plastered to my head by a ton of bobby pins. Every customer and employee of the bank was staring toward me and in the direction of Otto’s screams.

As Otto calmed down and realized what had happened he sent me back my wig which I replaced on my head and waited for the customer’s checks. My pride was slightly damaged but I managed to laugh it off - for many months. Otto, on the other hand, permanently lost a lot of his macho swagger that day.

[EDITORIAL NOTE: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. Instructions are here.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 02:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post

Comments

Absolutely hilarious! I also wore a few wigs back then, but nothing like that ever happened. I went to a party at our apt. complex (1969) without mr. kenju, and wore a shoulder-length blonde wig. Some guy glommed onto me and wouldn't leave, even when I told him I was married and not interested, so I removed the blonde wig and suddenly, he didn't want to be by my side anymore...LOL

Great story, Annie!!!! I love it!!!!!!

Thanks Judy and Kay. You both know that I wear wigs now because I am follicle challenged and I have a bright copper colored wig that gets about the same response a blonde one gets. Funny Judy!

Terrific story...Poor , poor Otto...He found out how it feels to be trapped.

What a funny story, Annie. You told it so well you had me in stitches.

I used to wear wigs,too. I had a small one that fitted on top of my real short hair and just made a nice little top to my hairdo. I went out to lunch from work one day and slipped on the ice and fell down. My little wig rolled down the parking lot and a man caught up with it and brought it back to me.

How humiliating!!!!!!!!

A hoot! I am still laughing out loud. I loved your story, Annie.

Thanks Claire Jean, Nancy and Darlene. Nancy, I should have known you would top me. I can just see you little wig rolling with that man chasing it. Humiliating is right. Great!

This was so cute, and yes I wore the wigs as well and the bobbie pins boy are we dating ourselves...it was a fun time...

That must have been hilarious...

Dorothy from grammology
remember to hug gram
grammology.com

Oh yes Dorothy, it does date us! Thanks for your comment. I look forward to visiting your blog.

I love this idea! And I hope to contribute as soon as I get my relatively new Blog up and running. I'm an Australian grandmother and I write daily jottings in verse, I intend to publish one a day. I think I might fit-in quite well.

Rinkly Rimes
Brend

Laughed (but quietly, am in library).
I never had problems when I wore a wig, but a man told me of the first date he had with the woman who became his wife. They were sitting in the car and he placed his arm around her shoulders. His cufflink (anybody wear those now?) caught in a hair extension he didn't know she had and when he took his arm away, the extension came off. He thought for one terrified moment that he had ripped her hair right off her head.

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