The Emperor’s New Paycheck

Francine lifted her eyes to heaven when her boss handed over her first paycheck.  She’d struggled hard to find a job, and she was glad to find one, even if it was a telemarketing job selling Healthy Nature magazine.  Her boss was oily, and she worried her new employer wasn’t a legitimate business, but now she had money in her hand.

When she glanced down at the blue check, she saw that the amount fell slightly short of her expectations.  Nothing else disturbed her until she saw the name of the bank.

“I’ve never heard of First Nude Bank of Venice Beach, California,” she said.

Her boss’s eyes darted around.  ”They own part of the business.”

“Will a bank around here accept this check?”

“Stop worrying.  Our company pays everybody here, myself included, from the same account.”

“I didn’t see you giving anybody else a check.”

“We’re all on direct deposit.” 

***
Francine had to present her paycheck to the most snobbish teller at her bank.  He put his nose in the air, pursed his lips. and pressed something under the counter.  At once three security guards surrounded Francine.  The bank manager, just as snooty as the teller, stepped over and took the check.  He ordered the security guards to frisk Francine. Meanwhile he made a phone call.

One security guard held each of Francine’s shoulders and the third searched her for weapons–very thoroughly.  She saw that a tattoo on the frisking officer’s hand read “TSA Team Alpha.  Live to Grope.  Grope to Live.”

The officer saw Francine looking at the tattoo.  ”It’s from my other job,” he explained as he squeezed her thigh.

The manager rejoined the group after Francine suffered a very intimate search in front of the other bank customers.

“Take her outside.”

In the parking lot of the bank, the manager returned the check to Francine.

“This check is good, but we don’t want your business.”

“But what about my checking account?”

“We’ll mail a check for the balance. Now get in your car and never come back.”

“But I came here on the subway.”

Turning to the grinning officers, the manager said, “Escort her off the property.”

***
From the sidewalk Francine used her cell phone to call bank customer service.  A recording said, “Old Fashioned Values Bank has treated all its customers with the same courtesy for over one hundred years.  Please hold.”  When she finally got a representative, she asked how she could cash the check.  The representative hung up.  She called back and asked the same question.  The second representative hung up.  On her third call she asked for the supervisor before the representative even had a chance to say hello.

At first the supervisor wasn’t helpful.

With a gruff and disdainful voice, he said, “It’s bank policy to terminate the account of any retail customer who presents a check on First Nude.”

Francine began to cry.  ” I don’t want to be homeless.  Where can I get the check cashed?”  

The supervisor grew uncomfortable.  He stammered out his reply, “We do have … uh … a commercial … customer that sometimes deposits checks from First Nude.  Maybe they could help you.”

“Great.  What’s the name of the business?”

“It’s against bank policy for me to tell you.”

Francine wailed.  The supervisor whispered, “The company is Au Naturel Party Supplies.”  Then he hung up.

A snickering directory assistance operator gave her the number for the party supply company, and Francine called.

“Au Naturel Party Supplies,” said the woman who answered the phone.  “ All that’s new in nude.”

The woman gave Francine directions.  It was a long walk from the subway station to the business.  At least Francine wore comfortable athletic shoes.

***
When Francine stepped into Au Naturel Party Supply, she saw a partition dividing the entryway from the rest of the office.  The head and bare shoulders of the receptionist popped up over the barrier.

“You can’t come in here looking like that.  You’ve got to take off your clothes.”

“But I’m not a nudist.”

“Naturist,” the receptionist corrected.  “Aren’t you the lady who called for directions?”

“Well, yes.”

“Do you want to cash your check or not?”

Francine reluctantly removed her clothes in the entryway.  She walked around the partition and saw a basket marked “clothes.”  She put her clothes inside and took in the room.  A dozen busy, naked people with conservative hairstyles scurried about talking about sales figures and pecking away at computer keyboards.  Through a door Francine could see a nude pot-bellied man driving a forklift in the warehouse.  She went to the receptionist’s desk.  

The receptionist was a young woman with one or two hundred thousand freckles. She giggled and said, “I bet this is your first nude check.”

The receptionist had Francine endorse the check over to the company.  She typed something into a computer and gave Francine the slip of paper that rolled from the machine, and then started to count out the money.

Francine looked at the slip.  The business had deducted a hefty “Check Club Registration Fee.”

“I only get $110.00?”

“Take it or leave it.”

Francine snorted and turned about to retrieve her clothes from the basket.  They were gone.

“What happened to my clothes?”

“You didn’t put them in there, did you?”

“Yes.”

“We shred the old clothes customers put in that basket and recycle them as towels for green nudists.  I’ll run back and see if they’ve shredded your stuff yet.”

The receptionist returned shortly.  “Too late.  All that’s left of your clothes is this.  These got stuck in the machine.”  She held up the soles of Francine’s athletic shoes in her hand.

“What’ll I wear home?”

“We don’t sell clothes, but we do have a few of our exclusive New Year’s Eve Party Barrels left.”

“What’s a party barrel?”

“We wear them to New Year’s Eve parties.  Everybody thinks we wear underwear underneath the barrel.  At midnight we drop the barrel, jump out, and scream ‘Happy New Year.’  It’s always hilarious.”

Francine didn’t see herself as having a choice.  The receptionist went to the warehouse and brought back a barrel.  

“That wood looks very rough,” said Francine.

“Oh, don’t worry.  It’s fully lined.

The receptionist helped Francine put on the barrel.  Both the shoulder straps and the barrel were padded and lined.  The bottom edge of the barrel was only a couple inches over her knees.  She’d worn skirts shorter than this in high school.

“This barrel reeks of whiskey.’

“What do you expect?  Can’t you see the lettering on the front?  It’s a Jack Daniel’s Whiskey barrel.  What else would you wear to a New Year’s Eve party?”

“They won’t let me on the subway if I reek of whiskey.”

“Well, they won’t let you on naked either.  I know.  I’ve tried.”

The barrel cost $105 including tax.  The receptionist apologized for not having proper change.  She gave Francine two rolls of nickels and two rolls of pennies.

***
Francine walked home barefoot, keeping to grassy strips at the side of the road.

A police car pulled up beside her.

“Ma’am, why are you walking along the road in that barrel?”

Stunned, Francine was at a loss for words, but she quickly recovered.

“I just got a job advertising Jack Daniel’s.”

“Congratulations.  Work’s sure hard to get these days.”

The officer drove away.

The day was warm and clear.  Francine carried a roll of pennies and a roll of nickels in each hand.  She began to swing her arms.  The coins felt like tiny dumbbells.

This is great exercise, she thought.  If I did this everyday, I wouldn’t have to worry about getting pear shaped from sitting all day at work.  Come to think of it, there’s no dress code at work, and some of those guys on the night shift smell a lot like this barrel.  I could save money on clothes. This might work out.

From that day on Francine was a committed naturist, and each month she got a small check from Jack Daniel’s.