Every Saturday, we’ll be posting a new illustration by David Lester. The Mecca Normal guitarist is visually documenting people, places and events from his band’s 27-year run, with text by vocalist Jean Smith.
Halloween, the night of the flood at Curves, I was walking back from washing the spoon I’d had my dinner with when a plump woman about 60 walked in off the street. We call them walk-ins. They usually want to know how much it costs to join the gym, and we are to avoid telling them, angling instead to have them book an appointment for them. I adapt as necessary, tell them what they want to know, but as with any artform, some understanding of what it is you are experimenting with is good, if not essential.
“My boss” (a.k.a. Julie) was right there, doing something at the computer. I went up to the walk-in.
“I want you to know that this spoon is not part of my costume,” I said, waving the spoon at her. “I have absolutely no way to justify holding a spoon.”
Keeping in mind I had grapes and a tiny bird on my head and fishing lures sewn to my jumpsuit, also keeping in mind she hadn’t said anything yet.
She laughed.
She wanted to know about the gym and I told her the basics: 30-minute work out, hydraulic equipment, three times a week. She said she worked at the university and had recently gained weight. I pointed across the room with the spoon, explaining the heart-rate chart and she asked about my costume, so I told her that story.
“I am a World War One fighter pilot, etc.”
I was able to book her appointment without getting into the price-thing. We were standing at the appointment book. “My boss” (a.k.a. Julie) was right in front of us, on the other side of the desk, writing something in the Staff Communication Book, and the walk-in says, “One question. What is lard board?”
I’m trying to figure out what she’s looking at, trying to see what the hell Julie is writing. And I’m like, “Lard board? Where do you see that?”
She points at the writing on the end of our recycling box: paper, cardboard, but the “C” of cardboard is right where we grab the box and the “C” has been torn and it looks like an “L”.
“Lardboard,” I say, “That’s a secondary industry here at Curves. We compress lard into panels in the back room.”
The walk-in is laughing, Julie is laughing and she goes even further, saying, “We extract the lard from members and press it into board.” We’re all laughing our heads off and the walk-in says, “I thought maybe you had a board for how much weight you’d lost and it was called The Lard Board.”
Julie (a.k.a. “my boss”) says, “That’s actually a pretty good idea.”
The walk-in heads for the door asking if I’ll be working that day.
“I won’t be,” I say. “But I assure you, I’m around plenty and there will be more frivolity.”
