If you are old enough, and American enough, you may remember a commercial from the 1970s for Enjoli perfume. A perfectly dressed, perfectly coifed businesswoman with flying hair and a confident stride, business suit and high heels, strides toward us. As we watch, she changes to a fashionable house dress, then to an evening gown. The song informs us “I can bring home the bacon…fry it up in a pan…and never let you forget you’re a man. ‘Cause I’m a woman. W.O.M.A.N.” Then the Enjoli logo, the perfume, the name of the product.

This was the picture presented for a role model for young women growing up in the 70s. We were told we could have it all. We could do it all. And we would always look - and smell - like a million bucks. We could work all day, make money, cook the dinner for our family, and then have wild sex with our husband. Okay, it didn’t quite say that last, but believe me, it was implied. This, we were to believe, was the life that awaited us as women…if we did things right, and wore Enjoli perfume, of course.

For many of us, the reality was quite different. So for the next few nights, I am going to bring you Megan, the real woman who tried to have…and do…it all. She isn’t exactly the Enjoli woman…well, actually, she is about a million miles from the Enjoli woman. Why? Because Megan has to live in the world as it is, and not the world that advertisers and other sources fed us. We could have it all…we could do it all…we could be superwomen. So tonight, Megan will bring home the bacon.

Now for five totally completely awesome women (most, perhaps all, of whom probably never wore Enjoli):

• Janaki Ammal - Botanist

• Ellen DeGeneres - talk show host

• Juana Inés de la Cruz - South American writer in the 17th century

• Angele Merkel - former Prime Minister of Germany

• Suzan Lori Parks - African-American playwright

BRING HOME THE BACON

Megan pushed the broom under the table; something sticky caught it and she had to force it out. She got down on her knees and scrubbed until the floor was clean. It appeared someone had dropped an entire ice cream cone and allowed it to melt. She stood up too soon and banged her head on the table. Resisting the urge to swear, she held the table for support until the dizziness wore off. Then she headed to the kitchen to dump the dirty trays and come back for more.

Michael was waiting for her. “What took you so long?” His hands reached for her bottom as he spoke. Instinctively, she backed against the wall.

“There was a mess. Some kid dumped ice cream under the table.” She dropped the trays in the sink and backed away, protecting her derriere from his reaching hands. His eyes never left her chest, but at least he never grabbed that.

“Bus on the lot!” Brandon screamed, and the entire crew flew into action.

“Megan! Get your ass to drive thru!” Michael yelled across the room, violating company policy but getting the job done.

Megan flew to the drive-thru and relieved Susan, who was needed on grill. Susan was their fastest grill person, and only worked drive-thru when there was a lull. Michael had pulled Megan out of drive-thru earlier and put her in the lobby as punishment for slamming her ass against the counter while his hand was on it…on her ass, that is. His hand was never on the counter if a woman’s ass was around.

The lobby filled with high school kids on their way home from a tournament. This was the winning team, and they were in the mood to celebrate. Great, she thought. That means lots of salt shakers with no lids later, lots of sugar packets opened and scattered just for fun. What these kids would do would make the ice cream spill look like a clean floor.

She forgot about the lobby; the drive-thru was always busy, even without the bus on the lot, and now she had to move even faster because she had to compete with the lobby for the limited number of sandwiches Susan could cook at a single time. She flew from microphone to window, and out to collect the sandwiches, keeping track of every order without a single error. It was hard enough when the drive-thru was fully staffed; that hadn’t happened for at least three months, ever since the owner decided he was paying too much for help and told them to cut hours.

She opened the window to hand out a drink, and recoiled. There was a man in the car, and he was naked from the waist down. He had a hard on, and grinned at her as he caressed it and ran his tongue along his lips. She didn’t look at him as she handed his cup out the window, but she squeezed the sides of the cup just a little, causing the lid to pop off. Cold soda spilled from the cup into his lap, causing him to deflate. He screamed and swore at her. “Watch what you’re doing, you stupid cunt!” She handed him his burger and fries, and gave him a fresh drink that Michael handed her. Great. Her boss had seen what she had done. He would know it wasn’t an accident.

The man drove off, and Megan steeled for the inevitable. Back to the lobby? Scrubbing the toilet? No, they couldn’t spare her for that with a bus on the lot. She would probably have to count the waste tonight at closing. She didn’t care. It was worth it, as long as she didn’t get fired. She couldn’t afford to get fired.

Michael grinned. “Good show”, was all he said. He patted her on the ass and went back to managing the front of the store.

The woman at the window was fuming; she had been waiting ten minutes according to her count. Never mind that the register clocked when she gave her order, and she had been in line for a mere one minute and seventeen seconds; she knew what she knew and Megan didn’t correct her. The customer was always right. She added a free apple pie to the bag and told the woman to have a nice day. The woman smiled as she drove away. She probably knew how to get something free.

Susan and Megan worked together to clean the lobby after the bus pulled out. The losing team had showed up while the winning team was still there, and the resulting food fight left the place a nasty mess. “Michael should really call the cops when they do that”, Susan said. “This isn’t okay.”

Megan nodded. “Yeah. You know he won’t. Not if they pay for the food first.”

The boys on the crew were cleaning the back of the store, scraping the grill and scooping rogue French fries out of the fryer, so Michael told the women to clean the men’s room. “It’s like a war zone in there”, he said. “I don’t know what they were doing, but it probably wasn’t legal.”

Megan put up the sign to close the bathroom and divert the boys into the single stall restroom while they worked. She held her nose as she cleaned glop off the floor; Susan was making gagging noises as she scraped wads of toilet paper off the walls and floor. Megan pointed; there was a wad of toilet paper stuck to the ceiling, covered with something brown and nasty. She lifted Susan on her shoulders while the other woman scraped the mess and wiped the ceiling. Susan dropped her gloves in the waste can and scrubbed her hands fiercely.

When Michael locked the door, they all collapsed in the booths for a short rest before they did the work of closing down. It was late, and the mess was big enough they probably wouldn’t be out long before the breakfast crew arrived to open. Last week, when one of the new boys accidentally let the hose loose on the machine that emptied the fry vat, they were there so late cleaning up the mess that they waved to the breakfast crew on their way out.

Tonight went smoothly. There were no incidents like the fry vat mess, and it was easier than they thought to clean up. It always amazed Megan that the easiest clean ups seemed to happen on the nights when there was the biggest mess…well, as long as it isn’t French fry grease on the floor. She grinned at the thought, and turned her key in the ignition. Brady wouldn’t have any reason to be angry tonight. She was not only getting home on time, she was early. And she had put in a double shift today, so her paycheck would be bigger than usual. That first shift she worked didn’t bother him, because he was at work, so he didn’t have to watch Mia; she was at his mother’s. And he loved the overtime she brought home.

The light was on over the sink when she got home. Good, she thought. That meant he was already in bed. He was probably in a good mood if he didn’t wait up for her. She slipped into the shower, and felt the hot water ease away some of the tiredness. Her nightgown was waiting for her; he had left out one of her sexy honeymoon nighties. Great. He was in a mood. She pulled it over her head, slipped her feet in her slippers, and headed for the bedroom.                                   

TO BE CONTINUED….