Most people hate polyester for aesthetic reasons. It’s scratchy, it doesn’t fit right, it doesn’t drape properly, it’s too hot. etc….
I hate polyester because it reminds me of a fall I once took.
I was working at Chick-fil-A. A fantastic company that really does make good food and treats their employees pretty well……with one exception.
Right up till about 10 years ago They. Still. Made. Their. Employees. Wear. POLYESTER.
I hated it. It was 1997 for crying out loud!
I was 28 and I didn’t want to be working fast food. But due to a peculiar set of circumstances, I was (temporarily) working fast food. An adult surrounded by teenagers. *sigh*
I detested the black polyester pants. The white short sleeved polyester shirt looked good on absolutely no-one. And the stupid little bow-tie/scarf hybrid thing that we were supposed to have tied around our necks never looked right on me.
Okay. I’ll admit it may, possibly, have been operator error. No one has ever taught me how to tie a bow tie/scarf hybrid thingy, so I could have been tying it incorrectly. But no matter. I HATED how I looked in that stupid polyester outfit.
I hated it so much that I had forbidden my boyfriend from even coming in the store to get me. He was SUPPOSED to wait in the car when it was time for my shift to be over. I would go to the bathroom, change back into reasonably cool looking clothing and meet him outside.
can you see where this is going?
So there I am. working register. it’s close to the end of my shift. and I look up. “It’s a great day at Chick-fil-A! How can I help y……” and there, at my register….is my boyfriend.
the fool man is grinning like an idiot and clearly thinks he has done something very clever by surprising me at work. The idjit thinks I will be pleased to see him.
Ok, I am pleased to see him, but NOT to have Him see ME! Not like THIS!
I am, at this point, furious. I get him his order and tell him to wait for me I’ll be off in 10 more minutes. During the ensuing 10 minutes I SEETHE. My temper gets higher and higher.
When the manager finally says I can go home I stalk to my locker, grab my clothes and clock out. I then stomp to the front of the store.
The instant my greasy shoes (you have worked in fast food, right?) hit the nice clean customer floor………..
The next thing I know I’m flat on my back in front of HUNDREDS (I’m sure of it, there were hundreds) of customers and my very concerned boyfriend. and the store manager. and my teenaged co-workers.
I wanted to die. Even better than death for me….I wanted to kill Rusty. After all it was CLEARLY his fault for having come into the store to begin with. If he hadn’t come in and deliberately provoked me by viewing me in that horrendous outfit I would never have been mad in the first place.
So we are all agreed, right? It’s clearly his fault. Not mine.
And that’s why I (justifiably) hate polyester.