My Froyo Brings All the Boys to the Yard

Why do all frozen yogurt shops have such ridiculous names?  Based on some pre-existing knowledge and extensive Google research, I have found that “Frutti Yogi,” “Cherry Berry,” and “Swirlicious” all actually exist, to name a few.  There’s even a frozen yogurt place called “Dream Cream.”  Seriously. 

Why do they do this to themselves?  It’s like they’re putting signs in their windows that say “Hey, don’t respect our frozen dairy treats.”  And such was the case at Bubbly Penguin Frozen Yogurt.

You see, I know this because I worked at Bubbly Penguin for exactly six weeks during high school.  Why only six weeks, you ask?  Well, until now, I’ve always told people that I quit because I wasn’t built for hard manual labor.  But that’s not exactly the truth…

I learned two things during my tenure at Bubbly Penguin: how to meticulously swirl frozen yogurt into a perfect eight-ounce mound, and how to become invisible.  I’d be standing at the register in my matching apron and visor, stripped of my humanity, when a gaggle of kids from my high school would pop through the door.  “Hi!  Welcome to Bubbly Penguin!  How are you today?”  I’d inquire.  “Small chocolate with strawberries,” would come the reply.  A visor is an invisibility cloak for Muggles.

Nevertheless, talking to customers was actually the best part of the job—because the rest of my pastel pink work environment was terrifying.  There were secret hidden cameras on the walls, and I constantly felt like I was being watched.  The phone would ring, and I’d answer it to a deep and gravelly voice saying,  “Stop touching your hair.”  Then, the line would go dead.

My boss exacerbated the situation, because I was always vaguely afraid he wanted to murder me.  He was a large, hulking man, weighing approximately 300 pounds of pure froyo gooiness, and he was always inexplicably soaking wet.  He tried to be a “cool boss,” ordering pizzas and inviting all the female workers over to his home, but every time I looked at him, I could only ever imagine him hacking me to little pieces with an axe and shoving me in the freezer next to the smoothie supplies.  He often reminded his employees to avoid teenage pregnancy, and he once advised me that I should “tastefully display the titties” more often.  

Here's a photo I took of him one day at work.

Needless to say, we never really became friends.  Instead, he wheezily threatened to fire me for “not invitin’ the customer to return,” and forced me to work alone with him long past closing time.  He would tell me odd, fantastical lies about his life in intricate detail, and then, while slowly slipping small cubes of moist banana into his mouth, would stare at me and say, “You an’ me are the same person.”  The day I finally got fed up and quit, he told the other employees I’d been working there for two years and was the first person he’d ever hired.  I remember being terrified that he was going to cry.

So why did I quit Bubbly Penguin after only six weeks?  Officially it was because I wanted to direct a play, and scheduling rehearsals around work shifts was too difficult.  But there may have been some other contributing factors.

Epilogue:  For those of you concerned about the implications of sexual harassment in this story, you should know that my boss was eventually fired for that very reason.  Someone else must have gotten fed up with his “mango” jokes.

Disclaimer:  The place wasn’t actually called “Bubbly Penguin Frozen Yogurt,” but I’m trying to not be sued.  Its name really was stupid, though.

PS:  I still possess the keen wrist technique for preparing perfectly swirled frozen yogurt, so if you take me to Yogurtland sometime, I’ll happily prepare your froyo for you.


Don't forget to "like" ANNAMAL CRACKERS on Facebook!
https://www.facebook.com/AnnamalCrackersBlog
Twitter @AnnamalHalligan