The Indignities of Job Hunting

In March, we set out to purchase Jesse a new suit for upcoming interviews and to spruce up his business wardrobe. We decided to take a trip to Men's Wearhouse since it was the store most likely to have a large selection of styles and sizes. The sales clerk who greeted us was quite enthusiastic and immediately was able to tell Jesse's coat and shirt size just by looking at him. I was impressed. He pulled out a few suits based on what we described, and within minutes we were sold - a dark grey pinstripe and a brown suit. The jackets fit perfectly. The pants, well, needed some work.

When Jesse first walked out of the dressing room I averted my eyes in horror. They left very little to the imagination. He bravely hopped up on the fitting platform to take a look at the damage. The waist was just about the only thing on the pants that didn't need fixing. The seat seams were firmly lodged in his unmentionable areas, which was undoubtedly caused by the fact that the crotch was light years too short. Due to the shortness of the inseam, when he pulled the pants up to where they should have rested on his waist, we got quite a show. I seem to remember a similar situation at the Men's Warehouse in Santa Cruz when Graham was trying on his first suit. To aleviate some of the tension, Jesse firmly slapped his butt (as any older brother would do), sending the poor sales girl running. Where was Graham when we needed him?

The sales clerk called on the tailor, a nearly deaf man who spoke very little, to take measurements for hem length and to solve the bathing suit region crisis. I tried reinforce through hand motions the utter vulgarity of the pants situation - flailing and gesticulating toward the zipper region. The tailor chalked up the pants, making marks on the seat, which I could only imagine meant "give this poor boy some relief!"

Our third trip was a success, and Jesse is now the owner of two really good-looking suits. The solution was a simple (tiny) gusset to ease the tension that was causing all the problems. He mused on our walk to the car about how there used to be this company in Santa Cruz called Chi Pants that was known for their comfort-fit garments. Had they not gone out of business after the 1989 earthquake, we joked that he could be their new spokesperson/model at Men's Wearhouse for the comfort gusset. We were all set to begin marketing the "Hey Look at My Crotch" campaign, but then found out that we were are about seven years too late. It's already been tried, and looks to have failed. Either way, his body did feel like smiling.

To do this week: Capture Jesse frolicking in his new Chi Suits.