Big Shock at the Dry Cleaners

[Rex_Tremende]

How I know I'm known as the guy in the kilt:

One of my (many) indulgences for the past twenty years has been to take all my shirts to the cleaners to be laundered and starched. I usually attend to this on weekends and, on rare occasions, week days after I stop home to exercise the dog, mix a cocktail in a ritual ending of the work day, and change clothes. One tends to develop a little relationship with the people you see on a weekly basis, but never once has anyone other than another customer commented on my kilts.

Yesterday my schedule was a little different, and I tossed a wad of shirts into my car before heading to the office, knowing that I'd have a little time at the end of the day to drop them off before I had to return home. After work, I arrived at the cleaners in my office drag, and the transaction proceeded as usual.

I turned and stepped away from the counter toward the door. Behind me I heard the clerk who started there this summer draw in a huge breath and exclaim, "Why, Mr. [Tremende]! I ain't never seen you before in PANTS!"

The smiling, wide-eyed, open-mouthed look on her face was priceless. I chortled the whole way home.

Regards,
Rex in Cincinnati