Pajiba

The clowns were pretty bad, but just because you skate to the Firebird, doesn't mean you need to wear feathers.

Seriously, its the skating, not the costumes that matter.

I worked at a Chick-Fil-A in my college town for half a year. Every Tuesday night was "Family Night" so someone had to dress up in the huge cow suit (cooling fan was broken, wore a vest full of ice packs) and dance for the children. I did this for two hours every Tuesday night for two months because I was the new guy. My efforts were rewarded, however, when the Auburn women's volleyball team all showed up one night (in skimpy practice attire). They wanted to play with the cow. Umm...yeah.

A gigantic, Disney World-style frog outfit for a library function I was volunteering at. The head almost fell off at one point, scaring the children.

* And by "that" in the first paragraph, I mean "them."

Not that there's anyone on this site that would stoop so low as to point out a misspelling or misuse of a word.

Unfortunately, I worked for Tim Hortons for 5 years when I was a bit younger and had to wear these lovely burgundy polyester pants with an equally offensive button down shirt that had burgundy polyester trim around the sleeves and collar. And lets not forget the stunning burgundy polyester visor. Five. Years. People.

I worked for Disneyland. I worked in three restaurants and in merchandise in every Land but for Toontown (which opened my third year there) and Bear Country.

Probably the least dorky thing I had to wear when I was there was the time I cross-dressed at the Big Thunder Barbecue (no longer there in its original form): a plaid shirt, cowboy hat, jeans, and cowboy boots that were much too large.

Although the London Fog overcoats were nice.

I have been fortunate that my employment has never necessitated unpleasant attire of any kind.

Perhaps it is the karma from my earliest years on our planet. When my mother dressed me like J.R. Ewing everyday. Bifocals, an eye-patch, and polyester oil-tycoon duds.

I absolutely refuse to believe Jeremy Feist has not been "trussed up" in a more "ridonkulous" outfit than what he described above. Refuse.

First off, beautifully written Sarah, I thought I was reading the Fug girls for a minute. Had to check the banner to make sure I was in the right place.

Drill team, high school. Our school colors were red, white and blue, so white go-go boots with shiny flesh colored tights, very high-waisted blue satin short-shorts, white blouse, red satin vest and blue bow tie. I was about 3 inches taller and a good cup size bigger than the girl I inherited my uniform from, so everything was kinda tight. The alternative uniform "dress" wasn't much better, spanky pants were always visible from the back and front. Crotchtastic!

Here's a photo from a performance in 1979!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/scoxsmith/4366479140/

Ooo, dance team and color guard in high school had some pretty great outfits. I think the winner is the year we did an Austen Powers inspired routine. I wore a hot pink hot-panted jumpsuit with faux-boots and platinum blonde bob wig with false eye lashes. In other words, I was a street walker at the age of 14.

As yet I've never had to wear a ridiculous outfit for work unless you count like, having to wear over large baseball caps even though they fell down over my eyes and caused me to get hurt a couple of times.

And hopefully, I sort of...side stepped that period, job wise, where insane costumes are a must.
Although, I'd love a job where I did get to wear costumes, as long as it was a different one every day.
I know people hate jobs like that, usually, but if you did it right (high) it would be the titss

When I was young (3 or 4) I had a sweat suit that was this hideous orange color. When I wore it all together, I looked like a little walking Circus Peanut. It was so tragic.

I also had shorts that had these dog heads printed all over them. Not cartoony dog heads, but realistic painted dog heads. It was so bizarre.

Not for a job but in 8th grade I was the mascot. I got to wear a longhorn suit that was to big for me. I was on the girl's basketball team so right after a hot sweaty game I had to don that nasty hot suit and go cheer on the boys in their game. I got this position because I was sick with the flu during cheerleading tryouts so when I was well again they suggested I try out for mascot instead. The other girl trying out was always failing classes so she was never eligible--so I got the job.

I also played a man in a play in high school. It was painful because they bound my breasts with a long bandage-type thing to make me flat enough to pull it off. Ugh.

I love the Olympics too. Particularly the men's figure skating costumes. Last night's short program looked like Halloween in elementary school; a farmer, a sailor, a skeleton...and Johnny Weir.

Ugh, I wear goofy outfits all the time when I'm doing field work--up to and including my fleece one-piece long underwear with bumflap. Frequently accessorized with dorktastic for a thirtysomething (but very practical) pigtails.

However, I will say that I'm fortunate in that I've never had a fast food job or any other uniform-mandatory work.

I worked for Panda Express for six months. I had to wear a goofy cap that was too big for my head, a goofy little apron, and a white polo that was so cheaply made that you could always see my bra through it (this was before wearing camisoles under clothing was in vogue).

If I hadn't been so nerdy and awkward back then, I'm sure I would have been ogled daily.

But the goofiest outfits I ever had to wear were from a Korean children's choir my mom made me join. First of all, the kids in the choir ranged in age from about five to ten years. I was fourteen, and in high school.

For our concerts, we had two outfits. Our "casual" outfits consisted of cheap white t-shirts (that must have been made by the same company that makes Panda Express' polos) with our choir logo on them tucked into these wrinkly aquamarine short-shorts. We wore them with our feet stuffed into whatever ratty tennis shoes we already owned, with white tube socks that we pulled up to our knees.

Our "choir" outfits were these red ponchos with floppy white collars and these red hats -- they were covered in some sort of velveteen or something, but they were rock-hard. They fastened with elastic chinstraps, and I felt like an acorn every time I put it on.

It might not have been as ugly or cheesy as some of the other things people have had to wear (like Feisty's niptastic suction cups), but couple it with the thick glasses and grandma hair I was sporting at the time and you've got a classic recipe for social exile.

I worked at a Canadian chain restaurant called Moxie's where I had to wear a black mini skirt that barely covered my bum and a black tank top cut down to my navel with knee-high boots. It was horrifying trying to maneuver around the place without exposing yourself. They also made us wear elaborate hair and makeup at all times but seriously, what man ever looked at our faces?

Oops, links didn't work. I'll try again:
http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g76/lainiefig/17542_276893050361_758135361_453534.jpg

http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g76/lainiefig/n758135361_698401_9821.jpg

Whew, Lainiefig, you are one hot dude!

I was lucky, I think the worst I had to deal with at work was a tie. Skating costumes usually sucked . . . anytime some mom got "creative" on our asses, they'd announce, "You're a SUNBEAM!" and I'd end up in a neon yellow leotard with gold tassels on my chest. Shit, that was Saturday. Um . . . .

When I was in college I was a "Lady of the Realm" in the Memphis Cotton Carnival.

Our daytime outfit was a shiny brown cotton dress worn over a white eyelet petticoat that was suppose to show. On our heads we wore little hats that were made to look like cotton bolls

I really never had to wear anything ridiculous.

But I just want to share that my daughter's friend was over watching this with us and she blurted out "HOW CAN HE BE GERMAN AND BLACK?"

We had a frank discussion of the difference between nationality and race. Seriously, people, if you don't tell your children these things, then other adults have to.

Yeah, that was less than a year ago that I worked there. Your skirt has to be at least 6 inches above your knee now, Lauren. You also have to maintain a tanned and toned appearance and your makeup should have a touch of glamour. I wish I was joking. It was like a slutty boot camp. Good money though.

"And Sarah, why did you have to change the header pic? And change it to what you did? I will have nightmares all week, now. *shudders*

Can't sleep; clown'll eat me."

It was always supposed to be this one, actually, but there were some shenanigans with the pictures and they ended up out of order.

"I have milky/corpse/chalk-white skin and dark leg hair, and I had to wear a skirt to Catholic school. My mom wouldn't let me shave my legs. I also had eczema on the backs of my knees. Not only was the uniform hideous, it seemed tailored to expose my most unflattering parts. Ugh.

Ugh."

Posted by: kate the great at February 17, 2010 6:28 PM

Kate, in several states this qualifies as child abuse. Did anyone ever call Children's Services?

I worked at Gymboree for two years... had a cute t-shirt and could wear whatever pants I wanted... most of the time.

There was that time I had to dress up as Gymbo the Clown... I have destroyed all photographic evidence of myself in that hideous outfit, but ">http://www.danandshefali.com/albums/priya/1st-birthday/133_3344.jpg> this is the clown's outfit (from a picture of a cake with the clown's head severed off MWAHAHAHAHAAAA!).

I also had to wear, for a week straight, a very uncomfortable dance costume from my kathak classes in lieu of a Halloween costume.

The things we do for money.

I worked for the fundraising arm of the zoo. In an office. As a receptionist. However, one Saturday I was sent to an event and had to wear a penguin costume to promote the zoo. I was there with a co-worker and I got stuck wearing the suit because I was taller. I was in the damn thing no more than 10 minutes before I: 1. smashed a little kid who was trying to hug me in the face with the beak (the eye holes did not allow me to look down, so I knew there was a kid there somewhere, but couldn't see where), 2. audibly said "Oh shit" after I hit the kid with the beak and he started crying, and 3. began to freak out because I couldn't see anything but could feel all these little kid hands touching me. My co-worker decided we would get into less trouble if she put on the suit and let me be the helper, so I just had to wear a zoo t-shirt with an elephant on it.
Later on in life, I worked at a library and they wanted me to wear a Clifford the Big Red Dog costume during story time. I told them about my penguin costume experience so they made another new worker do it instead. The guy ended up getting peed on but still had to stay in costume for the remainder of story time. He hated me after that.

I bussed tables in a Mexican restaurant for a few months in the early 90's. Summer break from College job. The uniform was a white puffy peasant blouse, and a black skirt, both with red and green ribbon detail. It was hideous. And Polyester. And itchy. But I was drunk most of the time at work (and everywhere else) that summer, so it wasn't too horrible.
I was a terrible busser. I dropped stuff.

My first job out of college was working for a public speaking company (Canada's Mr. Enthusiasm - google him, I dare you) as the receptionist. They were big into team building activities etc. and about six months into my job there they did a team building weekend retreat thing. The entire office (which consisted of about 7 people) spent the night at this lodge in the middle of nowhere and then we all went white water rafting the next morning.

What does this have to do with horrible costumes at work? I'm getting to it; hold your water.

So, we pull up to the white water rafting company and these two young, hard bodied gorgeous men come bounding out of the office and greet us heartily. First thing we need to do, they say, is get you suited up. I freeze midstep at the words "suited up" and look at the other admin person like a deer in the headlights.

With fear and trepidation I trail after the rest of the group into the far building. Hanging on the wall are various wet suits, the two young, gorgeous, hot bodied men eye us all up and down and start picking out wet suits suitable for our various body sizes.

The problem, of course, is that I'm fat. I'm sweating bullets while they're grabbing the suits; imagining them turning towards me and saying "I'm sorry ma'am, there ain't a wet suit in the world that will stretch to fit that ass". In retrospect, that would have been less humiliating then the actual turn of events.

The blonde one handed me a wet suit (size - 4 x) and I began the arduous task of squeezing my, let's call it, voluptuous body into the damn suit. I'll spare you the gory details but let's just say that the copious amounts of sweating I did earlier actually assisted in the process and there was a lot of grunting and heavy breathing involved.

They zipped me up, buckled me into a too-snug life vest and secured a helmet onto my head.

You know how sometimes you'll see a semi-large person riding a bike in those spandex shorts, how they kind of bulge over the sides of the seat and every dimple of cellulite is shared in all it's cottagey cheese glory?

You want to look away, and you try, you honestly do - but it's like some kind of terrible car wreck and you watch it with a horrific fascination until it jiggles its way out of your line of vision. Picture that, only it's my entire fat body covered in way too snug spandex and I'm jiggling and waddling my way to a large rubber raft where I will be forced to paddle my way through rapids with two impossibly gorgeous men and possibly die with six of my co-workers.

And that, my fellow Pajibans, was the worst costume I ever had to wear for a job.

Since this topic involves equal parts costume and humiliation, here's my story (which doesn't involve dressing up, but does involve me being humiliated).

The summer of my junior year in college, I worked at a greenhouse. Not only was it balls-hot all the time, but because of the greenhouse's name, we had to answer the phones, "Thanks for buzzing Busy Bee! How can I help you?"

My asshole friends used to call me at least once a day to hear me say those words. Ten years later, they STILL hassle me about buzzing Busy Bee. At least I didn't have to wear a bee costume or anything (I just had to be covered in sweat all the time).

Har. Brilliant. While I'm never seen in anything dumb (obviously), I have to applaud your choice of subject. I'm generally only watching sports to see the Germans lose, and these costumes were ASKING for it. Love it.

A summer in the late 90s I was working at the Warner Bros store as a greeter. It was the summer the batman movie came out with Arnold as Mr. Freeze. But to promote the movie, I had to wear a black baseball hat with bat ears on it and say "Hi! welcome to the bat cave!" to everyone who came into the store. While in the background I had to watch the trailer for the movie every 5 minutes for hours. Terrible.

This thread is seriously lacking in photographic evidence.

I'm eternally grateful that I never had to wear anything more ridiculous than a company polo shirt that identified me as an employee, and now that I work in a lab I wear any damn thing I want, usually jeans and a T-shirt, so I feel sorry both for people who have to wear costumes AND people who have to wear suits.

Right now there are some poor bastards who work at a check cashing store in my town who have to dress up as the Statue of Liberty and wave at passing cars in sub-zero temperatures. I feel so awful for them that I always wave merrily as I drive by. Not sure what the Statue of Liberty has to do with check cashing, unless it's to point out that it's the American way to manage your finances as irresponsibly as possible.

Also there was some dude in a type of solider/honor guard costume in front of the Mongolian BBQ once, and he was working it. Maybe the complete anonymity of the suit freed him to do his thing, maybe he figured he might as well have fun if he was going to do a humiliating job, but he had MOVES. My sister and I watched him dance up and down the curb for fifteen minutes before going up and offering money for being so entertaining; when he politely declined, we went inside the restaurant and told the manager they needed to give that guy a raise. He made our day.

Kelly, your story had me both laughing and aching with sympathy for your plight.

It also reminded me (how quickly my brain worked to blot this out) that at my last job I worked in a laboratory cleanroom, in which you had to wear a cleanroom suit. It was white, 100% polyester, and consisted of three parts--one for your body, booties that you buckled up over the suit, and a hood that only exposed the very foremost part of your face.

It was constricting and suffocating and made you look nothing less than the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. And you were expected to do meticulous lab work in it. You couldn't tell anyone apart once you got inside; I'd work all day with these people and then pass them in the halls not knowing who they were.

The booties stuck to the floor because there were tacky mats everywhere to attract any contaminants, and your every step was accompanied by a massive sucking sound as you pried your foot off the floor. I felt like I was on the goddamn moon.

The suits had a tendency to split right at the crotch, which really added to the dignified look. And because I have thin, fine hair, the polyester hoodie both charged it with static and left it lifeless and plastered to my head. It was hopeless; I had to slink home in shame on those days and pray that I wouldn't run into anyone I knew.

Worse, I began gaining weight after a car accident and as my suit got tighter, like Kelly up there, I'd sweat as I rifled desperately through the suit pile, trying to find one that would fit. Modern lab apparel has yet to catch up with the needs of the plus-sized lab technician, and it was only a matter of time before I was completely screwed.

And just to ensure I went home full of self-loathing, we had frequent lab tours, and often I'd look up from my work to see a dozen or so people crammed into the glass-walled dressing area as my boss gesticulated and their eyes followed my every waddle in my white, crotch-split spacesuit. There was no place to hide.

I was tempted to put up a sign: "Lab Tech in Its Natural Habitat: Please Do Not Feed" but fortunately I quit soon after.

I had to wear an 8 foot inflatable astronaut suit.

No. No. I don't think you understand. Let me say it again.

I had to wear an 8 foot INFLATABLE astronaut suit. I'm 5' 4" tall and had to carry a motor around on my back that pumped air into a giant astronaut shaped condom. It was also fraking hot in there.

Children used to think it was fun to come running at me at punch the astronaut in the stomach (which was, in fact, my face) so I used to spin around and knock the little shits over with my giant, inflatable backpack. It was the only bright spot in an otherwise miserable situation. It was only better if I could make them cry.

Tiny, rat-bastard children.

vzozvmbusfnscxcvvusznbnessnvmc

It think costumes and apparel are important too. Especially in these competitions. There are places for costumes and there is a right place to wear formal clothing.

Hi! An impressive share, I just given this onto a colleague who was doing a little analysis on this. And he in fact bought me breakfast because I found it for him.. smile. So let me reword that: Thnx for the treat! But yeah Thnkx for spending the time to discuss this, I feel strongly about it and love reading more on this topic. If possible, as you become expertise, would you mind updating your blog with more details? It is highly helpful for me. Big thumb up for this blog post!