I worked for a Commodities trader in Chicago. They made me put on a pork belly suit.
It was a sorry ass pig costume, pink with a little curly tail. It looked like the worst skinned pig you’ve ever seen and had "bellies" scrawled across the front. I didn't want to do it. Normally, I’d never consider it, but I was planning to quit, so I said, fuck it, took the hundred bucks up front and started planning. I got a pint of vodka, left it in the freezer over the weekend. On Monday I put it in a paper bag and took it with me. On the way to work that day I stopped off at a wino bar and had a couple of Bloody Marys.
I put on the suit and the gigantic fiberglass pig head. The whole suit was loose on me, and the head was so big I could drink inside the head – my empty pig arm hanging loose
-- and no one could tell. I started drinking the vodka straight.
I never drink, so the pint and Bloody Marys were enough to lessen my inhibitions. I was wearing the suit to 'entertain' a couple of big potential investors. God only knows how desperate and terrible your life must be if you're influenced to invest your money by a dumbass in a pig suit, but I suppose that’s just how bad things were for them.
I started feeling drunker and drunker, and in addition to squealing oink, oink occasionally, I started adding obscene asides. I could tell everyone was getting uncomfortable when I started singing the Oscar Mayer song and rubbing my swine crotch.
One of the junior bosses came over and told me to leave, and tried to remove my head. Right after that the fight started.
The security guards stripped the suit off me and tossed me out on the street. I got my check in the mail a few days later.
I never used them as a reference.