First off, I would like to applaud you all for thinking to wear swimwear while washing a car. Too often I’ve seen people who claim to be prepared to work yet are hideously mis-dressed. Archaeologists not wearing Indiana Jones hats on their heads. Adventurers not wearing Indiana Jones whips on their belts. College professors not wearing anything Indiana Jonsey at all, yet all waiting for that flirtatious student to blink and reveal a message written on her eyelids.
However, you all donning swimwear shows that you’re ready for the task at hand, and that you are not afraid of getting wet, which seems like a very likely possibility.
I applaud your preparation.
The accolades, however, end there.
For starters, let’s discuss the fact that all the workers appeared to be underage. I don’t just mean underage in the sense that they were awfully young to be parading about in swimwear, which they were, but that they were too young to be working, period. That doesn’t seem right to me, and I have to say that I’m especially doubtful when it comes to the car-cleaning skills of girls who are too young to drive themselves.
Now let’s discuss the fact that all the workers appear to be underage in the sense that they are awfully young to be parading around in swimwear. Actually, let’s not so much discuss it as say it, because I’m not really sure what there is to discuss here. Frankly, I feel that if you can’t buy a lottery ticket, why do you need a bikini? Those things seem unrelated, but trust me, there’s an important thread here.
In addition, I saw many non-bikini uniforms on display. There were tankinis. There were tank tops. There were bikini tops with jean shorts. I don’t mean to be picky, but this was sold to me as a bikini car wash. So to not do a good job washing the car AND fail to deliver in the bikini department was a significant disappointment.
I was also unclear on whether I was supposed to remain in the car or get out. I suppose one could stay inside and watch someone wash the car in a bikini. But that’s not really the view of this operation that I’ve become accustomed to after various music videos and 1980’s motion pictured involving foxy neighbors. Most times, when you see this sort of thing played out, it’s from a distance of about 20-50 feet.
On the other hand, because this was happening in a parking lot, there really wasn’t anywhere for me to go. What was I going to do? Sit on the pavement? Spread out a newspaper on the ground and sit there Indian Style?
This is also a way of apologizing for starting my vehicle and slowly driving away before the workers were finished with my car. What can I say? I don’t know the protocol for explaining that I was all done, but I was definitely all done.
I think the message was received.