A young man walks into the store. He must be in his early twenties, however that’s not the first thing I notice about him. It’s his bright orange shirt with cream trousers that catches my first glance. Dressing is definitely not this guy’s expertise cos only a dork would wear such clothes. A smart, beautiful girl accompanied the bloke, whom I presumed to be his girlfriend. She sports a stylish blouse on a well fitted pair of blue jeans…if my guess is correct then certainly her choice for clothes is surely way better than her choice for men.
“Show me some trousers in thirty two that go along with these shirts”, says the man, taking out two fine cotton shirts from a shopping bag. “Certainly sir, I’ll just get you a few trousers for you to try on”, I reply. “You better make it fast cos i’m in a rush” he yells as I walk towards the men’s section.
“Sir, this is one of our finest trousers this season, and it will match perfectly with both your shirts” I pitch holding a striped Italian wool trouser. “I can see for myself, you just show me the trousers, and cut your crap” says the obnoxious chap. I plunge in faded enthusiasm, and take a step backwards, while the lady with him shows clear signs of embarrassment. He walks into the fitting room and returns in a refined disguise. “This looks fine I suppose”, he says to the lady as she nods with her worthy approval. “How long will you guys take to alter it?”, “Sir, the tailor usually takes an hour’s time, but since you seem to be in a rush I’ll get it done in thirty minutes” I reply and accompany him to the cash counter.
I bill the garment, swipe his credit card and dispatch it to the tailor for the adjustment. The trouser was complementing the shirts thoroughly, unlike the couple themselves. I look at the lady as if to compliment for her expertise in dressing which she acknowledges with a smile. “You better have my trousers ready in thirty minutes, or I’ll want my f***** money back” says the man and walks out of the store. My first impressions were correct, the guy was indeed a jerk, I think to myself as I walk back towards another approaching customer. Good clothes can make a man look good, but they can’t transform the jerk that he is.
