Beanie Baby Fever
It was 1998. Or was it 1999? I don’t remember for certain, but the date isn’t particularly relevant to this story. Anyway, at this time, I was working my first job ever. Like many other responsible teens (sounds like an oxymoron), I was employed by a fast food restaurant as soon as legally possible. Pretty sure I started working when I was fifteen. I desperately needed money for Star Wars collectibles and guitar strings for my Smashing Pumpkins cover band. So, I turned to McDonald’s to make all of my financial dreams come true. My brother was already slingin’ beef for the chain and helped me get a position working registers. He later had a breakdown during a particularly busy evening and threw quarter pounders with cheese at a manager. I think that resulted in him losing his job. But I digress.
This story is about my first experience with the Ty Beanie Baby craze of the late 90s. By the time these stuffed critters were rumored to be making a comeback as the featured Happy Meal prizes, I was already a veteran of the register. I was adaptable. I seamlessly transitioned from the push-button template register to the computerized touch screen register. Yeah, I was THAT good. I was unstoppable. And then an announcement by management turned my world upside down; Beanie Babies were coming back in less than one month!
The announcement was made in a mandatory, all staff meeting. This meeting was unlike any other; it was conducted like a military briefing. My managers were NOT fucking around about this. They had survived the Beanies of the past and knew of the horrors that would likely reemerge this time around. Nevertheless, I was excited because staff were allowed one of each toys upon arrival. And even better, we would each receive an exclusive McDonald’s employee Beanie Bear for our service and bravery during this hardship. If you are unfamiliar, Beanie Babies were considered an investment for many back then. By the time I was ready for college, I could sell the suckers to pay for tuition!! I had no idea what was in store for me.
A few weeks after the announcement, I was preparing for my first BB tour. I amped myself up on the walk to my breakfast shift by humming/singing movie scores (likely Star Wars and Back to the Future). I was ready for anything!! When my workplace became visible, I saw hoards of people waiting outside the locked doors. This was startling, to say the least. Here’s the thing: Beanies weren’t available until Happy Meals started selling. That means the toys weren’t for sale until lunchtime at 10:30 am. My shift started at 7 am. Oh no!
Doors opened and customers swarmed the registers. This was what our training was for! Politely my coworkers and I instructed the collectible-hungry patrons that they would have to wait until lunch was served to purchase happy meal prizes. Middle-aged women were telling us pimple-faced teens to fuck off as they asked to speak to management. After all, they had waited all morning for this booty. Obviously management gave them the same response and instructed them to return later. The crowd grumbled in defiance, but eventually retreated to their vehicles to await the next move.
When lunchtime arrived, an even more terrifying crowd emerged from the parking lot. I don’t mean to suggest that they were different people. They were, in fact, the same people. But they had been brooding for the last few hours over the injustice McDonald’s had done them. They were cranky and impatient–a recipe for disaster.
My first customer was surprising. She was, in appearance, a sweet old grandmother. But looks can be deceiving. Granny ordered some food first to seem less eager. Then she asked for 10 beanies. I don’t remember the exact limit placed on these commodities, but it was certainly a number lower than 10 as I was forced to decline her request. The pale old woman grew flush in the face as her eyes narrowed upon me. She appeared to be trembling with rage as she lashed out. I let her words bounce off of my fleshy chest (I was a chubber) before explaining that we would sell out immediately if we allowed such orders to occur. I then told her she could drive to any of the remaining 4 chains in our very small town to purchase more toys. She may have thought I was giving her an inside tip because she became very chummy with me after my suggestion. In reality, this was just common knowledge. But at least she was off my back.
11:30 am. After only an hour, we are nearing the end of our available stores. This was unheard of! There were several different styles of Beanie Baby available in the McDonald’s Happy Meal collection, but they were to be released individually every week. We weren’t even going to make it through my shift before we sold out of the first one. Of course, with such chaos surrounding me and my fellow cashiers, it was hard to keep track of how many prizes were left while taking orders. Communication was difficult with the roar of the angry mob. And then it happened.
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1:00 pm. A woman orders a modest 1 Doby the Doberman from me. At the same moment, a woman at the register adjacent places the same order. I was on my way to the cardboard box filled with Beanies when I noticed just one remained. My coworker was slightly ahead of me on the way to the same toy! But she had yet to notice that this prize was the last of its kind. I lurched forward without realizing. My instinct had taken control without my conscious approval. I had retrieved the toy and presented it proudly to my customer. I still feel a bit of guilt for what my actions caused.
My coworker was chewed apart by the empty handed customer. This insane woman was furious that the last Doby had been issued to my customer rather than to her. I knew trouble was brewing and tried to cash out my customer as soon as possible. I wasn’t quick enough. The angry woman turned her attention to my customer with eyes like Gollum to the ring. Screaming something unintelligible, she snatched the toy from her now enemy. This resulted in something I had never seen in my 16 years: a middle-aged cat fight. The two women cussed and tore at each other, hands entangled in each other’s hair. I stood in bewilderment as management broke the two women apart and threatened to call police. I felt bad for my customer, but in the wake of this quarrel I saw the true victim: a young girl with her father. The little one cautiously approached the counter and meekly asked if any “doggies” were left. The look in her father’s eyes told me that he was relying on me to break the news. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I was heartsick looking at this innocent little face. So, I did the only thing I could think of doing; I gave her mine. Yes, I had my Doby secretly tucked away under the register for my future college funding. We all did. But I couldn’t let this poor girl go away with a shitty old Bug’s Life toy (when sold out of new beanies, old stockpiles are used as substitutes to make it until the next week). I didn’t answer her question. I just smiled and asked what kind of Happy Meal she wanted. Then I secretly tucked the Doby in the box before handing it to her dad.
As the father walked his daughter out the door, I heard him suggest they leave the Beanie in its package so it would be worth something someday. She protested, but the doors closed and the verdict was muffled. I’m unsure as to the fate of that particular Doby. At that point, I was unsure of the fate of humanity. I mean, that’s the rub of it; people are complete garbage sometimes.
Do not fret, reader. The world smiled on me for my good deed. Another shipment of Doby’s came into my workplace later that day, after the dust had settled. I was able to bring one home and stash it away while its value increased. Or so I thought. If one were to eBay search for a Doby today, the going price is within the $2-5 range. KA-CHING!!! Maybe this explains why I’m finally going to college in my thirties.
It may seem as if the Beanie Baby Craze was a shit-show that prompted my cynicism. Well, it was. But not all of it was bad. In fact, I am grateful to it in a sense. Ty Beanie Baby’s helped me see my first pair of breasts in the flesh! Yeah, you heard me, BOOBS!!
I was working the drive-thru one night when a twenty something couple approached the window in their truck. The woman asked me if I could open the box of the next beanies on the docket since she already had that week’s toy. I said I couldn’t and informed her that they would be available the following day. She looked at her boyfriend for approval. He smirked and nodded. This lady must have wanted that Koala A LOT because she proceeded to flash me her breasts while asking the same question again. Boobs are to a young teen boy as Kryptonite is to Superman. I’m sure she was well aware of this while jiggling her pair in front of me. Did this faze me? FUCK YES IT DID!! This wasn’t a multi-colored, split second, scrambled Spice channel pair of tits; this was the real fucking deal! My memory paints these breasts in a glorious light, but I am nearly certain that in reality they were mediocre at best. Regardless, I stuck to my guns. In my boob-fueled stupor, I managed to stutter out the total owed while handing the couple the toy they apparently already had. Annoyed and possibly ashamed of herself, the young woman called me a perv as the truck proceeded to the next window. I’m not sure that her response was warranted. After all, she was the adult exposing herself to a minor. But I wasn’t complaining either way.
In the end, I’m not sure how to feel about the Beanie Baby craze. I lost faith in humanity after seeing what these stupid toys did to people. But, then again…boobs.
