Monday, February 15, 2010

Pardon me.

One day, back when I worked at Big Important Foundation (1), I was walking down the hall as a female colleague exited the restroom.

Not entirely exciting...except for the fact that she had managed to tuck the back of her very long, flowing dress into her pantyhose.

I quickly ran up behind her, put my hand on her shoulder and whispered, "Your dress is tucked up into your pantyhose."

What followed was a horrified look, a dash back into the ladies room and, later, an e-mail:

"When I got home last night I contemplated re-enacting the pantyhose situation and asking my husband to tell me how bad it was. I decided I couldn't handle it (2)."

I thought of this yesterday when I was waiting in line for the overpriced chai tea that I know I should give up in the name of fiscal responsibility...but will not.

A man walked into this friendly neighborhood Starbucks, shouting a hardy hello to the folks behind the counter, with his fly wide open.

This was not a casual fly opening. These were jeans that had not been relax fit for quite a few pounds. They were, in the words of my grandmother, "like a cheap hotel (3)."

But I said nothing. The couple behind me whose conversation drew my attention to the sad situation said nothing. Because, really, how do you break that kind of news to somebody. Somebody who seems to be having a really great day. A guy about to buy a lot of overpriced coffees.

Given the state of things it could well be that this guy and his jeans just decided they were fighting a total losing battle.

Who am I to judge?

1. BIF
2. This is from memory...I did not save this e-mail. That would be weird.
3. No ballroom. Classy, right?