Mom and Dad said that two guys from work had offered to help me win back the girl from the International Division. Apparently I handled things … poorly at the office holiday party when she tried to dump me.
So even though I’d seen Dale and Chip around, I was a little disconcerted when they said that they’d be taking me to “their place” for a fashion makeover. Honestly I thought it was some kind of strange come-on, but Fritz and Gisele told me it would be fine. I had no idea they meant Brooks Brothers.
Apparently if you spend enough money there, you’re entitled to more attention than I’ve ever had from anyone ever. It apparently also transfers to one’s guests also, because the moment we walked in together, a group of salesmen the size of Monaco’s entire army swarmed me. I began to feel sweaty and looked fondly toward the exit, but I was long from escape. I reluctantly resigned myself to being the object of pampering.
Over the next three hours, I was plied with compliments and posed in dozen suits that were astonishingly comfortable. But each time I tried to ask how much that suit cost, Dale would just wave one hand absently at me while chatting with the store manager and the regional director, who showed up halfway through our marathon wardrobe session.
Finally we walked out with a stack of french-cuff shirts with sterling silver links, club ties, suits in both silk and worsted wool, and even a new pair of Balmoral-cut Oxford boots. As I admired myself one last time in three mirrors simultaneously, I had to admit that if Nietzsche had looked this good, the world would never have had existentialism. And maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad.
So the truth is I feel like a million gold Krugerrands now, and I know that my plans to win back the girl from the International Division will finally come to blossom. Stay tuned, folks. This is going to be amazing!
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