HOT DOG … The Job I Truly Relished

This story was submitted by Jonathan Rhudy to the Work It! collection as part of the October SEEQ sessions.

Of all the jobs, I’ve held in my 46 years of life – including newspaper carrier, grass mower, grocery bagger, college police reporter, corporate communications guy, and PR agency co-owner – the one job that really shaped me in unforgettable ways was driving the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile. 

From June 1995 to June 1996, I held the coveted job as an Oscar Mayer Wienermobile Hotdogger. I served as one of 12 Hotdoggers driving one of six, 27-foot-long super sausages on wheels across America.

The original mobile marketer

Oscar Mayer started mobile marketing in 1936. This company was rich in history and meaty puns.

According to a recent New York Post article, it is easier to get into Harvard than become a Hotdogger. Today, about 7,000 apply for the 12 Hotdogger slots. I would have never gotten into Harvard, but I clearly cut the mustard with Oscar Mayer.

After graduating from James Madison University in May 1995, I felt so lucky to have experienced a year on the road before transitioning to the “real world” … whatever that was.

In the mid-90s before GPS, Twitter and digital photos, I spent 52 weeks navigating the backroads of America. That year I drove about 68,000 miles in 38 states, attending hundreds of special events, parades and retailers. After two weeks of initial training at Hot Dog High in Madison, Wisconsin, I spent the first three months auditioning kids for TV commercials mostly in the South. The days were long, and so were the lines of excited stage parents with their awkwardly cute, and at times reluctant kids, belting out “The Wiener Jingle” and “B-O-L-O-G-N-A Song.”

An unconventional gig

The job of Hotdogger was anything but normal. I was a driver, navigator, mechanic, events coordinator, singing coach, media publicist and on-camera spokesperson for one of America’s most beloved brands (unless you’re a vegetarian). Oh, and I had to deal with a few of those aggressive veggie lovers from PETA along the way, so add crisis communicator to the roles I held.

Most days, it was just me, a fellow Hotdogger, some maps, a suitcase-sized cell phone, a mobile fax machine and big-screen TV with a VCR all crammed in with about 25,000 wiener whistles. Luckily, it wasn’t a “Wienerbago,” so I didn’t have to sleep in the mobile frank. We stayed in hotels with a $50 nightly rate cap. 

Highs and lows on the road

There were highs like driving in the Mardi Gras parades in New Orleans and working Super Bowl XXX in Tempe. That was my first and only NFL game ever. Then, there were lows, like breaking down, standing outside a grocery store in the rain for 10 hours and missing my friends, my family and girlfriend. 

There were totally insane moments like accidently merging into a funeral procession or getting tricked into driving into a women’s prison complex by a couple of morning show radio DJs. Let’s just say there was some nudity in the prison yard. People loved to flash the Wienermobile!  

Three lessons I learned from the windshield of a wiener

I learned a lot that year as a Hotdogger, but I’ll boil it down to three main lessons. 

• Work has to be fun.
  As a Hotdogger, I’d have the same conversations hundreds of times each day. The same questions. The same jokes. 

Think of the guide on The Jungle Cruise at Disney World. That was me peppering out meaty puns about the tubesteak taxi with condiment-splattered carpeting and a ketchup-and-mustard walkway. It was buns of fun, or at least that was what I was selling. I was in the memory-making business!

I loved the smiles and the unexpected. I didn’t grill the dogs. I just drove them. Over that year, I gave out a few hundred thousand wiener whistles and a ton of swag … if I liked you. 

• Human connections matter. 

People wanted to connect and share their stories about how they saw the Wienermobile as a kid or about their uncle who worked at a hot dog factory. Visitors would regularly hand me their dachshunds or babies to hold in front of the big dog. The Wienermobile was the star! I was just its handler and caretaker.

Despite all the fun, I took my responsibility very seriously. Like Santa Claus or a costumed Disney character, I worked hard to ensure that each visitor had a memorable experience whether that was at an official appearance or a gas station stop at 11 p.m. 

I wanted each connection to be personable and authentic. After all, I likely would never see these people again. They wouldn’t remember me, but they would remember the Wienermobile. 

I learned to study people very quickly. I could figure out in seconds if someone wanted to engage in conversation or just wanted a photo. As a result, I could find a connection point or something to talk about with just about anyone. This skill has helped me as a communications consultant for the past 20 years.

I met some amazing people in my journeys. Sadly, there was no social media at the time, but thanks to a very exclusive Oscar Mayer Ex-Hotdogger Facebook group I now get to stay in touch with a fun, crazy and accomplished group of people.

• America is truly amazing. 

My family road tripped some as a kid taking three or four trips from Virginia to California with me in the back of a minivan. Later, my time seeing America with Oscar Mayer further validated both my need and love for travel and adventure.

From standing on the corner in Winslow, Arizona, to breaking down in Compton, California, I saw a lot of our great country from the piloting the Wienermobile and uncle Oscar was footing the bill. 

My hot dog travels also reinforced my decision to ultimately call Richmond, Va., home. 

It was an incredible year on the road as a Hotdogger. I was fortunate to have a job that I could truly relish! Being a Hotdogger also laid a strong foundation for my PR career in so many unexpected ways.