KILWIN'S

I thought I'd found my big break when I heard that Kilwin's Ice Cream on St. Armand's Circle was hiring. At $8 an hour, they beat every other Sarasota job by three dollars! I went through two arduous interviews, in which I was actually asked to define my "career goals" and to explain what I hoped to achieve by scooping ice cream at Kilwin's. I don't think I answered honestly--that I wanted to gorf down free ice cream and hang out on the beach--but I got the job anyway. After watching the Kilwin's corporate video (not as funny as the Long John Silver's corporate video, but entertaining nevertheless), I promptly found out that I didn't have what it takes to scoop ice cream. I also had to wear a bright red apron with Bavarian trimmings (ruffles, cuckoo birds, etc).

Everyone who worked at Kilwins was blonde, almost to a Hitler-ific extent, and it was kind of eerie to be among them. The manager was overly dedicated to his job, and boasted of the "patent pending" on his banana split. He was not joking. A large and bestial woman (similar to Uta Hagen in THE BOYS FROM BRAZIL) insisted that I learned her method of rag-wringing (roll it like a joint and squeeze like hell), and was not amused when I asked her if she had a patent pending.

I was still traumatized by the damn fribble machine at Friendly's, and I never did learn to scoop ice cream without wearing a wrist brace. Even with the brace my hand swelled up like an infection, and I realized that I would never survive a whole summer of scooping, weighing, and asking whether the client required a sugar or waffle cone. And one day, after a no-name hurricane flooded the key and I found myself floating to work in my 1981 VW Rabbit, I made a decision that I would never work retail again. So I quit!

 

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