Shop Like a Man

Shopping for clothes is already uncomfortable enough for a guy; it's a time when you have to actually acknowledge fashion and make a conscious decision to prefer one piece of clothing over another. For a man, the minutes spent in the isles of a clothing store are minutes void of valor and masculinity, but full of frailty and metrosexuality. In fact, there are only three places where a dude can comfortably take his time to peruse the isles of a store for something that might look good on him; (1) The Nike Outlet Store, (2) Gen X Clothing, (3) Deseret Industries.

If I ever need some new apparel, I go to those three first, except in reverse order. Occasionally, however, a brotha's gotta step into the mall in order to pick up some new threads. Such was the case a couple months ago, when I felt I needed to add a second pair of jeans to my weekly rotation. The ridges in the corduroys I found at DI were just too deep, the 2Pac insignia on the back pocket of the pants I found at Gen X looked like it wouldn't handle much wear, and the Nike store didn't carry any denim.

And so I found myself at an anonymous department store in the mall. I say anonymous because I don't want to increase the possibility of running into any of you if I have to go there again. One of the most awkward things that can ever happen to a guy is for him to run into one of his bros at a clothing store:

"What's up, man?"
"Nothin'. What ya up to, just lookin' for some clothes, or something?"
"Yeah, sorta... just seeing, uh, if there are, um, any good basketball shorts here."
"Oh, me too. I couldn't find any long enough, so I'm just gonna grab some socks and head out."
"Yeah, I gotta go, too. Later, man."

Then they both part ways as quickly as possible, knowing full-well that there aren't any basketball shorts at Aeropostale. Anyway... I was at an anonymous department store looking for some jeans. Historically, I had done my best to never pay more than $20 for a pair. But due to high inflation and a loss of strength in the American Dollar, I was willing to shell out $30. In fact, about two months earlier at this same store, I had purchased a pair for $29.99. Since they fit great, I went over to that same area of the store where I had last found them, hoping to find a slightly different color and be on my way. I did, but I found them underneath a sign that read "$31.99." I paused, knowing full well that $30 was my price ceiling. I looked around and noticed several flashy signs that read, "lowest price of the season sale!"

New jeans in hand, I walked up to the register while explaining to my beautiful wife that I was going to get out of that store without paying more than $30. As I approached the cashier, who was a tall, older man, I said, "I got this same pair of jeans here just two months ago for $29.99; I'd like to pay no more than that." He actually became quite defensive and showed no interest in my plea. I quickly pointed out the signs all over that read 'lowest price of the season sale!," and explained that $31.99 was not the lowest price of the season for the jeans because I got them just two months ago, in the same season, for less. More words were exchanged, the cashier started yelling and shaking the counter, my wife got embarrassed and left to hide in the women's jewelry section, and a long line of impatient shoppers built up behind me. I had every reason in the world to pull out another $2 and have it all end, but I held my post.

Eventually, the manager was called over the intercom and I was pulled out of line so the customers behind me could get on with buying the junk they had in their hands for a price slightly above the lowest price of the season. Things actually went much better with the store's manager. I explained my case, again as kindly as possible. She listened, rolled her eyes, and had me follow her to another register where she rang me up for $29.99.

Customer 1, Retailer 0