Monday, December 10, 2012

A Commercial Proposal

The Febreze folks are missing out on a major marketing niche: teachers.

Friday I had the misfortune of harboring first hour the progeny of the Seinfeld parking valet. He of the B.O. that permeated everything its molecules came in contact with. That required Elaine to take a tomato sauce shampoo.

My guy must have forgotten his deodorant that morning. My room usually takes on the aroma of smoky feet, or the primate house at the zoo by afternoon. But first hour most often lets me escape unscathed. Then I have relatively fresh air for my plan time. But not on Friday.

I thought it would dissipate, the eau de armpit. After five minutes, I knew it would not. I hastened along to the teacher workroom. Into the women's faculty restroom. Grabbed the can of Febreze that had a harvest leaf motif on the label. Hurried back to my room and made a grand round. I pushed the button and walked an entire lap around my classroom, spraying Febreze all the while. If it works for fish heads and soccer socks and a metal city dumpster, it should work for a single case of two armpits worth of B.O., I figured.

Ten minutes later, my teaching buddy Mabel waltzed in. I stopped short of blindfolding her to see if she would announce that she was in a painted maple-and-oak-leaf forest in New England. I asked her if my room stunk. "No. It smells really good. What is that?"

Thank the Gummi Mary. I would have hated tossing her the key to my classroom and walking away from the best job ever.

2 comments:

Sioux said...

Sometimes I walk into my classroom and start spontaneously singing, "We've got the funk! Who's got the funk?..."

But it's needless, because we all know who the funk has set its sights for. It's rolled (in) for thee...and me.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
It's like a black cloud in an antidepressant commercial. Years ago, we had a couple of hard-core kids who smelled like a sweaty horse that had been galloped too long, and put away after peeling off the soaked saddle blanket. I think it might have been the aftermath of meth oozing from their pores.

The Lady of Spain was offended by my description of the odor. She loves equines.