I had to go clothes shopping last weekend. There were three reasons for this:
1. My shoe broke. While I was trying to glue it back together, Marty asked how old the shoes were. I guestimated I bought them in 1993 when I went to work for the March of Dimes. But, they could be older than that. Plus, the one pair of slacks I've been wearing this week date back to the second Clinton administration.
2. Most of my professional ("realtor") clothes are scattered around the Mesa area Goodwills, as I donated most everything (except the Clinton-era slacks) because I wasn't going to work when I got to Texas.
3. After I accepted the job from Tessa she said in a roundabout way, that she expected her Operations Manager to look like a manager and not a clerical assistant. That's me paraphrasing. What she said was, "Y'all got any other pants?" I was wearing my favorite pair of jeans. And, I speak enough Southern to get the gist.
When I went to buy shoes on Saturday, the clerk sadly reported they weren't on sale. I told her that was ok. I'd get 30 years out of them.
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