A Brand New Pair of Jeans

A Long Six Word Saturday post.

Sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin.

This week, I treated myself to a new pair of jeans. I finished work on Thursday, ahead of my week off, had something to eat, and then went out shopping.

The journey to the shop was fine. The roads weren’t as busy as I expected them to be, although there were queues at every junction. I reached the shop’s car park, and found a space that I wanted to park in close to the door as it looked as though it was threatening rain. A woman was walking, nay dawdling, toward me on the side of the road I needed to drive over to get into the space… she was in the middle of the lane so I had to drive on to find another space. I noticed in my mirror that she had reached her car, which was parked closer to the building than the space I wanted, so I could have just pulled into the space had either I known, or she had walked closer to the parked cars giving some kind of indication. Never mind, I thought, I turned into the next lane, and found a space even closer to the shop’s door. Everything happens for a reason.

I walked immediately into the menswear section of the shop (I hadn’t realised that I’d parked on that side of the building) and looked for the black jeans. I found them straight away, and instantly saw a pair I liked in my size – the only one left. I should have realised then it was going too well. I decided to try another pair as well, and found another with almost the same speed.

Feeling happy with myself, I went to the dressing room to try them on.

The first pair, the more expensive if the two, fit perfectly. The second pair wouldn’t even reach at the waist, although they were supposedly the same size waist. They were already in the ‘hefty’ size bracket, so I refused to get a larger size – especially as one pair fit me perfectly. I had only gone to buy one pair of jeans, and it was one pair of jeans I was buying.

I left the cubicle, and handed the pair I didn’t want to the guy waiting at the entrance to the dressing area. I realised I’d handed him the wrong pair, so took them back and gave him the other. I left the dressing room, and started to make my way over to the pay desk. I looked at the jeans I had, and suddenly couldn’t remember if these were the small pair or the ones I wanted, so I had to go back to the dressing room to try them on again. A lady was at the entrance this time, and I explained my predicament to her. She retrieved the other pair of jeans, and advised me they were the same size, although with different leg lengths. She then noticed they were a different style of jeans which would explain the different sizes.

I went back into the cubicle, tried the correct pair of jeans on again, and made sure I would hand the unwanted ones back.

This time, there was nobody at the entrance, so I left the jeans I didn’t want on the table, and walked over to the pay area.

There was a lot of people paying, but the very first till was empty, and a smiling face greeted me. “Jack of all trades, me!” She said – it was the woman from the dressing room who was aware of my ‘problem’. “Have you got the right pair now?” She asked with a smile, and I said I had, with a deep feeling of horror that I actually hadn’t. I put that thought out of my mind by reminding myself that I’d made certain these were the correct ones.

I paid using my card, as per usual. There was a delay. The woman looked at me and said “Oh no. This till’s been playing up today.” She smiled. “Oh no. It’s asking me to call somebody for authorisation. If you were using one of our cards it would give a code to enter, but you aren’t using one of our cards. Tell you what, I’ll cancel the transaction, and put it through again.” And she promptly did.

This second time, everything went through perfectly. “There we go” said the woman.

“It’s fine” I answered. “It’s been one of those evenings.”

It was one of those evenings.

The moral of the story… be patient.

Things work out in the end.

---

About the image:

Adapted Clip-Art