...
..the saintly life

....June 12, 2006
 

 
I am shopping for Relaxed Fit jeans.  The man blocking my view of the denim shelves needs a roomier cut.  He needs something in a Coma Fit.  I think he should bite the bullet or, in his case, the howitzer shell, and drive his 4x4 to the big-and-tall clothing store located across town.  But I can't tell him this and neither can our sales clerk, a pale, slouching, summer-employed lad wearing what appears to be an otter pelt on his head.  The clerk and I are too kind.

On closer examination, I see that the pelt is actually hair, combed straight forward into the clerk's eyes.  I mutter quiet thanks for my gift of restraint.  Moments ago, I almost petted the young man's head. 

I try hard not to listen to the conversation between Big and Tall Man and Pelt Boy, but my efforts are in vain.  I hear B&T use the term "guesstimate" and I grind my teeth.  If he uses "proactive" or "closure," I'll surely faint. 
 
 

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