July 17, 2008 11:45 pm
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As I have mentioned previously in this space, I have lost a fair amount of weight over the past few months.
And, one of the not-bad-to-have problems that inevitably comes with weight loss is the need for new clothing.
One of the items I found myself needing recently was some new athletic shorts to wear at the gym when I work out. My old ones had grown too loose around the waist, creating the potential for a wardrobe malfunction that, trust me, no one wants or needs to witness.
One Friday night a couple of weeks ago, my wife and I were on a shopping expedition at the local MegaLo-Mart, so I decided to search for some new exercise attire.
I came to a rack full of all-cotton shorts that looked nice and comfy. I selected a pair of light gray ones in my new, smaller size and started to place them in my shopping cart.
Upon closer inspection, I noticed something.
On the inside of the garment, in the back just below the waistband, was a name written in black marker.
I have no particular desire to embarrass the individual who obviously chose to personalize the shorts, then return them to the store, so I’ll just say that the handle was that of one “Ray M.”
Now, I know that the average individual would probably have either put the shorts back, or pointed out the defacement to the nearest store employee.
See, I’m not the average individual, though. I’m a cheapskate.
My first thought, therefore, was along the lines of: “Hmmm, I’ll bet if I showed this at the service desk, I could get a couple of bucks knocked off the price.” I then proceeded to do just that.
The service desk clerk seemed rather bemused when I showed her Ray M.’s handiwork, but said she couldn’t authorize lowering the price. She called for a manager.
The manager was utterly aghast at my discovery. I asked her if she’d give me a discount. She quoted me a price.
“C’mon, you can do better than that,” I said. “You’re never going to be able to sell these to anyone else in that condition.”
The manager obviously agreed with me because she dropped the price a bit more. I think she just wanted that abomination out of her sight.
“Just call me Ray,” I told her, as she was making out the new price tag.
As we were preparing to brave the checkout process, I told my wife of the episode. She couldn’t believe I’d actually want to purchase a pair of shorts with another man’s name in them.
“Hey,” I told her. “Ray M. knows a good deal when he sees it.”
I then proceeded to annoy the heck out of her by referring to myself as “Ray M.” in the third person for the rest of the evening.
Those shorts have now been laundered a couple of times, and Ray M.’s name is barely visible. He must not have used a very good grade of marker.
I’m still trying to figure out, though, why an obviously grown man felt the need to scrawl his name in an article of clothing.
I think the last time I wore something with my own name in it, my mom had written it there.
Oh, well. A bargain is a bargain, I suppose.
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