I work as a beautician at a really nice salon on the outskirts of town. My boss is very ambitious and progressive and is always looking for ways to expand the business and offer more services. One of her recent upgrades was to offer more skin treatments, the most impressive part of this was having a professional therapeutic mud bath installed.
Now, another thing my boss is very good at is promoting the business via various social media channels, often using very impactful, slightly left field methods.
She came up with a very unusual way to promote our new mud therapy services. Allow me to explain the strategy.
Our premises are right next to a small river. This disappears away to next to nothing at low tide, leaving a large area of mud exposed. In fact, we often knew when low tide was because we could smell the mud. My boss, and her fertile mind, had come up with the idea of taking some photographs of someone stuck and/or wallowing in the mud to be teamed with an advert saying something like "No need for DIY mud baths anymore" and then sharing the details of the new mud therapy suite. I could imagine this hitting the social media streams and grabbing quite a lot of attention. It's fair to say I thought it was an excellent, and very amusing idea. Right up until it became clear that she wanted ME to be the person going into the oozy riverbank mud!
She looked me in the eye and said "will you do this for me Lauren? I realise it's a bit gross and smelly but I think it'll be a lot more powerful if it's actually a member of our staff in the mud, don't you? I mean, I don't want it to come across as seedy or sleazy or anything so you'll need to keep your clothes on". I looked at her in disbelief. "What, you mean, if I agree to this you want me to go into that gross, slimy mud IN MY CLOTHES?" She chuckled slightly. "Yes, I think that'll keep it sleaze-friendly, plus it'll make it quite funny too, don't you think? Maybe go somewhere affordable and get a cheap outfit, perhaps some jeans and a top. There's probably not much point wearing shoes, you'll likely lose them in the mud, but it would be a good idea to put some socks on to give your feet a bit of protection at least. So buy some funky socks too. What do you think?" I thought about this for a moment. She was asking a lot! I tried to imagine sinking in the mud with socks on. How would that feel? She continued. "I just want you to look as close as possible to how you normally look when you're not working, apart from having your shoes off". She said it as if asking someone to get covered in stinky mud whilst fully clothed was the most normal thing in the world. And, thinking about it, her calm rationale about the whole crazy idea was strangely persuasive, and a large part of the reason why I said I'd do it.
It's fair to say my boss was overjoyed when I finally agreed to get muddy for her. It was decided that we'd take the photos on the morning of the following Friday and, as my reward, I could have the rest of the day off. I was tasked with buying some inexpensive clothes in the interim period, so as not to spoil any of my own in the mud.
I popped into town on my lunchbreak one day during the week leading up to the Friday mud bath photoshoot. I went into a well-known bargain fashion retailer and found a smart black bra and knicker set. It was actually quite nice so I hoped it wouldn't be ruined by the mud, then I could keep it! Then, I remembered my boss had suggested I put some funky socks on to go in the mud, instead of wearing shoes. I preferred this idea to the alternative of going barefoot so decided to take her at her word and find the brightest, jazziest socks in the shop. On the way to the sock display I found a pair of blue skinny jeans and a nice black T-shirt top and put them in my basket along with the underwear. When I arrived at the socks I was faced with a plethora of choice. I fell in love with a fabulous pair of black and white striped socks, I imagined wearing them without shoes, with the tight blue jeans and the fitted black T-shirt and playing in the mud. What a mad thing to do! I couldn't help smiling and feeling a little pang of excitement. I picked up a pair of the wonderful, soft, thin stripy socks and added them to the basket.
Part of me was horrified about just having these socks on in the mud, but I couldn't deny that there was another part of me that was experiencing a building sense of excitement about doing something so, well, mad. The socks were so cute, that I was definitely going to try washing them afterwards so I could keep them!
I showed my purchases to my boss when I returned to work and she was delighted that I had everything I needed for the big day. She even commented on how sassy my new socks were and how it was almost a shame to get them all muddy. I asked her "is it OK to wear stripy socks? I mean, it'll be really obvious that I'm not wearing any shoes, does that matter?". She laughed and replied "Lauren, you have seen that mud, right? They won't be stripy for long! Those socks are not getting out of there alive!" It was going to be so, so weird to get dressed up in these new clothes, only to wallow in mud and get completely filthy.
I must admit, I thought about the impending mud bath in the stinky river bank all week. It was never far from my mind, and I did find myself feeling quite nervous about what was going to happen to me. I couldn't stop thinking about how bad it was actually going to smell down there in that oozy mess. In a way, it was nice when Friday actually arrived and I could just kind of get on with it and get it done.
I went to work at the usual time, but in some of my own, ordinary clothes. I'd decided to change into the "mudding" outfit at work, and had left everything there. My boss was her usual hyper self when I arrived, clearly excited about getting her latest social media campaign underway via my dip in the smelly mud. "Thanks again for agreeing to do this Lauren, I do realise it's going to be pretty whiffy and dirty down there in the mud" she said, smiling. "No problem" I replied. "The things we do for Friday afternoon off eh?" This caused the pair of us to chuckle, I think my laughter was more nerves than anything else.
I retrieved the outfit from the cupboard I'd left it in and disappeared off to a changing room to get myself ready to get covered in mud. I stripped completely naked and carefully folded my clothes and put them to one side. I started by putting the new bra and knickers on, then I carefully pulled on the really rather gorgeous black and white stripy socks. These looked really sassy and fun on my feet and were a nice length too, coming almost half way to my knees. I did a daft little dance in just this underwear / socks combination, feeling really silly! When I'd stopped messing around, I put the tight blue jeans on, followed by the nice black top. I really liked the skinny jeans, they were a great fit, as was the top. And the socks just looked amazing! That was the first time I felt a little bit of guilt about getting these new clothes covered in mud. It was going to appear completely incongruous to sink in the mud dressed like this (and really, that was exactly the desired effect!) Finally, I took off my watch, my rings and necklace, and also my earrings, and pulled my hair back into a neat ponytail. I was ready to go in the mud and squelch my way to dirty oblivion, in the name of advertising...
I walked back out to where my boss was. "How do I look?" She turned to me and said "perfect! You look completely normal and that is exactly what we need! And I must just say, those socks are super-cute!" I looked down at them again. They really were nice. They looked beautifully balanced, with just the right amount of black stripes between the (also black) toe and heel. They were great socks! I had very mixed feelings about deliberately getting mud all over them. I think I'd already decided to go back to the shop and buy more of them, it would really jazz up my sock drawer! Anyway, time to get down to it. My boss was brandishing her camera and keen to get me into the mud. I didn't bother putting shoes on to walk out to the edge of the riverbank. A couple of passers-by gave me a quizzical look as I tiptoed through the damp grass in my stripy socks. When we arrived, I surveyed the large expanse of exposed mud and struggled to comprehend that I was about to voluntarily step into it. In socks. The boss started to give me instructions. "Right Lauren, wade out through the mud and when you're nicely into it, say about there, (she pointed at an area about 25 feet away) I want you to sit down in it, lay down in it, roll in it, the works. Basically, get it all over yourself. You simply have to wallow in the mud and get as covered as you can. Then pose for pictures looking serious, as if this is actually a premium skin treatment for you. Ham it up girl!"
The time really had come then. I felt oddly vulnerable standing on the edge, just in front of the start of the mud, in my socks. And, out in the daylight the black and white stripes were so vibrant! "In you get then Lauren! Enjoy yourself!" the boss shouted. What on earth did she mean I was thinking. How could I enjoy this? Does anyone enjoy this? My mind raced with the absurdity of it all. It was just such a gross idea to step into the mud in my socks. But my boss was adamant, she was sure that any shoes would be sucked off and lost in the mud, and the socks would just "disappear" once they were muddy. My heart was thumping in my chest as I lowered one of my amazing socks towards the mud. My foot broke the surface and the lovely black stripes of my sock descended into the dark, foreboding mud with a strange little splatting noise. I kept letting it sink until I found some firmness. I was just over ankle deep in it. I put the other foot into the mud in the same careful, measured manner, and stood there just over my ankles, with the mud just catching at the bottoms of my skinny jeans. At this stage I had a couple of observations. The first one was that breaching the surface of the mud had released quite the stink. I mean, it was like a giant had done an enormous eggy fart. I've smelled worse things, but it was a strong and earthy odour, and no mistake! The second thing was that it didn't feel as gross or as bad as I'd expected. It was very smooth and soft and kind of felt a bit like standing in chocolate spread. In my socks. Whilst contemplating my life in the mud, my concentration was interrupted by the boss. "Well done Lauren, you're in the mud! Now go for it, go out to where it's a bit deeper and get really, really muddy for me!"
I managed to walk out into the mud surprisingly easily. And I think this was actually down to not having shoes on in a way. It felt like my feet, in just socks, were more nimble and resistant to getting stuck in the mud. I couldn't help but look at my feet as I took each step. The shiny black mud was squelching and oozing all over my stripy socks in a disgusting, but weirdly satisfying way. I feel quite sure that if I'd been wearing my usual slip-on shoes, they would have been tugged off my feet by the thick mud. But it quickly got a bit deeper. Each step was accompanied by comedically loud squelchy "farting" sounds as I withdrew each foot from the wet slop. And I was very soon almost up to my knees in it! It was covering my nice blue jeans! And the smell had definitely not improved...
I started to really sink in at this point and did briefly go in over my knees. It felt disarmingly soft, smooth and, I'll say it, pleasant (apart from the stink!) I was really surprised to find myself enjoying being over my knees in mud in socks and skinny jeans. The jeans were getting absolutely plastered in the thick mud and it seemed to be several different shades of brown, depending on depth. Some of it was almost black, and that seemed to be the stuff that really, really stank. It was getting so deep and unpredictable that I made the executive decision to drop down onto all fours and crawl in the mud, to try to spread my weight. I took a deep breath and lunged forwards and downwards into a crawling position. My hands and arms disappeared into the deep, dark ooze along with my knees. I was kind of kneeling in it, and also in it almost to my armpits. It must've looked like I was waist deep, although my feet were nearer to the surface than my knees if that makes sense? I was aware of a shout from the path. "Brilliant Lauren, you're so, so muddy now, this is perfect! Can you roll around in the really squelchy bit next to you and get your top nice and muddy, and maybe get some on your face and perhaps in your hair?"
I was at the point where I was pretty relaxed about it. I might as well do as I was asked, I was a long way past the damage limitation stage. I hadn't really known what this mud would be like, but I didn't expect it to swallow me up quite as dramatically as it had. I was already much wetter and filthier than I thought I'd get, so it seemed logical to really max out now. I'd been worrying about doing this all week but actually, whisper it, it was really good fun. Someone had given me an entire new outfit and told me to play in the mud. When you think past the weirdness, that's pretty cool really isn't it? The inner child in me was definitely being playful in mud pie territory. And the thought kept coming back to me; I was pretty much disgusted by the concept of no shoes. All week I'd been worried about the "just put some nice socks on" strategy. But it felt so good doing this in socks, and I really do think shoes would have been a massive hindrance, and quickly sucked off. It's like my boss knew...
Anyway, I continued to do as I was told and rolled into the really squelchy bit nearby, in the process completely caking my top in mud. Amusingly, the mud was almost the same colour as the black top so it probably looked the same from a distance, but it felt heavy and slimy as the mud oozed all over the fabric. The rest of my outfit was almost completely covered now. It looked like I was wearing black jeans and plain black socks! I then sat in it cross-legged and daubed streaks of mud onto my face and ran a couple of large handfuls of the stinking black ooze through my hair! The boss was snapping away with her camera, shouting approvingly about how "great" I looked in the mud. I really hadn't expected being totally covered in really smelly mud to be so fun. As I sat there, writhing and squelching around, stirring the mud up with my socks, I realised what an absolutely brilliant idea my boss had come up with, and how striking this was going to be as a way of advertising the business. I was even quite excited about showing the pictures of me rolling in the black gunge to my friends. I wondered what they'd say!
My boss asked me to complete a range of poses in the sloppiest area of the smelly, black mud. I had to lay on my back with my feet in the air. The mud splattered and oozed heavily off my socks as I held them up. Then I rolled onto my front and simulated swimming breast stroke in the deep mud, whilst smiling for the camera. Finally, I simply stood up and allowed myself to sink in the mud right past my knees. I posed for the camera grinning happily, quite enjoying the feeling of the soft, deep, squelchy mud through my thin socks!
My boss called out "OK Lauren, I've got some brilliant pictures of you covered in mud! You can get out if you want to and we'll get you cleaned up! Tell me, what does it feel like in there just wearing socks?" I giggled and replied. "Actually, it feels really nice in a weird way! I'm glad I didn't wear shoes, the mud is really soft and smooth!" She laughed, and I thought about her suggestion to get cleaned up.
She said it as if getting cleaned up was going to be the most straightforward process imaginable. I actually had absolutely no idea where I would even start to sort myself out. From my socks, right up to the shoulders of my hair, I was smothered in the thick, lumpy sludge. Not a single part of any of the clothes I was wearing was anything other than covered in it.
I felt so very heavy as I struggled to my feet and squelched through the knee-deep ooze back to the concrete path. I heaved myself out of the mud's grasp and got up onto the path and showers of mud splattered all over the concrete, it was falling off me in volume! My boss looked at me, smiling. "I'm so proud of you Lauren, and so grateful for what you've done for me. That must've been so awful for you!" I giggled, replying "You know I'll do anything to get Friday afternoon off, and actually, to be completely honest, that was really fun, although I absolutely stink now!" The boss roared with laughter. "Well, I didn't want to hurt your feelings, but yes, you really do smell bad! Come on, let's go up to the salon, I'll help you get cleaned up".
My boss led the way back up to the salon and I followed her, squelching and splattering my way back to the building. We had a couple of showers adjacent to the mud therapy suite and my boss opened up a fire exit, enabling me to get into one of them without having to travel through the main entrance into the building. This meant I didn't leave a great big trail of smelly slime through the reception! I hopped into the shower still fully clothed and stood under the powerful stream of hot water. Slowly but surely I managed to rinse the mud off, starting with my hair and working downwards. It was funny seeing my top emerge from its coating of slime, and my jeans turning blue again, although they were clearly heavily stained! The funniest thing of all was seeing the black and white stripy socks emerging from underneath the thick layer of mud that I'd subjected them to. Although to describe the white bits as white would not be accurate! They were kind of black and dirty grey stripy socks now. When I'd removed the worst of the mud from the clothes, I stripped everything off, soaped my naked body down about three times to try to remove the smell of the ooze, then dried off and put my clean clothes back on, along with my jewellery and watch. I put the entire mud outfit into the onsite washing machine and set it to a good, long program with a pre-wash, and hoped for the best! I couldn't shake off the faint whiff of mud for a couple of days, and it took me really quite some time to clean my finger and toenails, they were horribly black upon my departure from the mud!
I said goodbye to my boss and left the salon. It was 11:15am.
The things I do for Friday afternoon off...