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Thursday, November 03, 2005

Invisible Munsters

I'm headed to my new job. This is my third day. The people are nice, the work is easy, and they even gave me my own key. Life couldn't get any better. I'm about ten minutes late when I walk in. I get friendly greetings from everyone there. I'm probably the most aloof of all the employees. However, this doesn't seem to bother anyone, so things are cool.

I get started taking pictures of jackets from a big pile Kim got out for me. One by one I put the jackets on a male manikin and shoot them. Full shot, close up front, shoulder, back, inner lining, tag, and damage to the jacket if any. The manikin has no head, but I still feel uncomfortable putting my arms around it to tighten up the material on the inner lining shot. I know it's just a manikin that doesn't even have legs, but it's still weird. They won't even let me get near the female manikins. After I finish my pile of jackets, I contemplate the vast similarities between these manikins and real people as I reach in this manikin's hollow neck and grab it's metal spine to move it out of the way.

I go out and ask Kim what I should do next.

"In about a half hour we'll have a model here, and you need to shoot her wearing these jackets," he says, gesturing to a pile of thirty or so jackets.

Model?

This got me pretty nervous. I've never taken pictures of a model. Well, not with them knowing about it at least. Will I need to direct her? How can I tell her to do anything without sounding like I don't know what I'm talking about? Will I have to make chit-chat with her? And most importantly, how am I going to relate this experience to anyone without sounding like a pervert?

The model finally shows up. And no, it wasn't a guy. I realize now that it would've been really funny if it were a guy, but no where near worth it just for a laugh. Besides, modeling is no laughing matter. This blog is serious, guys.

Kim introduces us.

"Bambie, (I forget her real name, but I'm pretty sure it was from a Disney movie) this is your photographer," he says.

I look around in bewilderment, for it is just us three in the room. I look down and see a camera in my hands. Oh, he means me, I think. I give my usual greeting, which vaguely resembles one shooing away a fly near my shoulder as quick as I can. Or so I hear.

Bambie and I go into the picture-taking room. We get started. She puts on the first jacket. Full shot, close up front, shoulder, back, inner lining, and tag. After about 5 jackets finished in silence, I feel I need to be a bit more involved.

"Could you give me some anger on this one?" I ask.

Her face remains the same as it was before.

"Perfect," I say honestly.

She puts on the next jacket.

"Now, I think we need some jubilant indifference in this one," I say.

"Perfect."

Next jacket.

"Now, some repressed absolutism would work with this one."

"You're a natural."

Next jacket.

"Let's see. I think we need a little bit of sarcastic innnocence."

And it went on like this.

She put on the next jacket and I saw it. I had hoped this wouldn't happen. The shoot was going fine and then something like this had to show up and put the whole thing at risk.

The stain.

Well, it wasn't so much the stain itself, but the location of the stain. There was probably no worse place for a stain.

"Um, do you think you could brush that off?" I ask her, while vaguely pointing at the jacket, eyes never leaving the camera.

She tries brushing it off, but it's in there pretty good. She tries scratching it out, but that just lightens the material around the stain, thus making it only more evident.
This is going nowhere, and we need to get rid of that stain. It's time for me to be a man, to step up and solve the problem myself without any more of this immaturity.

I hand her a rag.

Eventually she got the stain cleaned off. The stain actually turned out to be a good thing after all. While she was cleaning it off, I was able to do a lot of the tinkering with the camera while looking really embarrased and uncomfortable that I had been wanting to do for so long.

I got done taking pictures of her after about 45 minutes. I don't know who got completely fed up with the situation first, me or her, but the overall feeling that it needed to end was mutual.

I load the pictures onto the computer thinking that things didn't go so bad after all. I mean, I got to take pictures of a real-life model. This could be a good blog, I think.

The pictures from the camera start to show up on the computer screen. I maximize the first picture. The second. The third.

Hmmm, I don't remember asking for confused, annoyed, OR terrified.


6 comments:

Big Ben said...

That was entertaining. So was she hot. You should have slipped your number into one of the jackets, and when she was leaving say pull it out of the jacket and tell her she forgot this. Give a good wink too.

Lorien said...

Oooo. Good strategy, ben. I can see that working.

Mat6t, you need a fan. A big, turbo one to blow her hair all wild and everything. Repressed sarcasm in the wind...what's better than that?

Eric Petersen said...

Is this that ebay job?

Marlsven said...

Yeah, since then I've thought of several things I could've/should've done. But prison just isn't my cup of tea.

erp: yeah, it's that job. But it's more than just a job, it's a way of life.

Lorien said...

Prison? Aw, heck. Just say you were worried about her getting all hot--you know, wearing coats inside and all.

Alex Morrise said...

Mat6t, you like girls? Good heavens.