[stylist] Hoody bit

Wed Jan 5 14:49:12 UTC 2011

nice job brad!
jc

At 08:14 AM 1/5/2011, you wrote:
>for a little self-amusement this morning :)
>
>The store manager was new so I suppose you 
>really couldn't blame him. I don't think he had 
>much experience in this sort of thing before, 
>but after an incident such as this, I'm sure 
>he's learned a thing or two. A few of us tried 
>to tell him early on but it was as if he didn't 
>even hear us, or as if he couldn't understand us 
>at all. It was almost like he didn't speak our 
>language. Well, anyway
 we didn't push too hard 
>because we had heard he was a bit hot under the 
>collar, though you really would not have thought 
>that by just looking at him. I mean his white 
>pressed short sleeved shirt and bright tan 
>slacks were
 hmmm alright. I mean the slacks 
>weren't that dark so they were OK. I mean he 
>couldn't wear white slacks too or he'd look like 
>a doctor or something, you know, too clean and 
>proper. No, the light tan slacks were OK, too 
>dark and well, you know, *spoken in a whisper* 
>the darky slacks
 no matter how you try to 
>contrast them
 because of their color they just 
>send the wrong message you know.
>
>I on the other hand, with my official  medium 
>sky blue long sleeves, neatly pressed chest 
>pockets, stiff unwrinkled collar standing proud 
>atop the wide shoulders, sharply contrasted dark 
>blue slacks  creased commanding municipal 
>respect being tied off at the waist by a shiny 
>black leather belt, knew this sort of thing 
>happens from time to time. I might have expected 
>it too from the murmuring I thought I heard earlier on in the evening.
>
>I'd say it happened somewhere around 11:00PM, 
>shortly after closing time and all the store 
>personnel had gone home for the night. The place 
>was dark and only the security lights lit 
>certain areas of the store. The dress shirt 
>section was well lit and out in the open, as was 
>the tank tops and plane sweat shirts. Even the 
>wild carefree T-shirts with their brazen 
>multi-colored logos slapped on them like cheap 
>chest tattoos were out in the open. There were 
>others though that were hidden in the shadows of 
>the security lights. If anyone should have been 
>hidden from the light it should really have been 
>the negligees and unmentionables but no, it 
>wasn't that way, not like other stores with

>well you see, this is where the store manager

>well I'm sure he knows now, but it always has to 
>come to something like this before anything is done about it.
>
>As I said I think it had to be a little after 
>11:00PM, shortly after closing time, maybe 
>11:30PM I'm not really sure. I was standing 
>there quiet-like, the store was all still. And 
>out of the buzzing noise of the scantly 
>illuminating fluorescents, I thought I heard 
>this whispering. At first I wasn't sure but then 
>it seemed to get louder. Sure enough I began to 
>hear these voices and right away I knew what was 
>happening.  Their accent and dialect gave them 
>away even in the darkness. As the murmuring grew 
>louder I began to pick out what was being said.
>
>"Look at you mon weeth your foncy stripes and 
>pressed coalars... get a load ofe deece guy 
>mon... oh... tsk tsk tsk. Aw. Jew popped a 
>coople boatens. Aw Chus like deece one here, dos a shame mon".
>
>I knew right then we had trouble and it wasn't 
>going to be pretty. But what was I to do. The 
>manager had me clipped up on the display wall 
>with arms stretched out like I was being 
>crucified. I'm telling you, I mean I'm not 
>saying? I'm just saying.  You know, I think the 
>manager had a lot of missed responsibility here. 
>New or not, well anyway, I could hear things 
>were heating up from another section ...
>
>"Hey man look at this feller.  he's a thinkin' 
>he's purdy smart wit dat Rayon tag he's a sportin' there. Well I'll just..."
>
>And then I heard this horrible tearing sound. I 
>mean he made off like he was going to rip off 
>just the tag but it sounded like he tore the 
>whole arm off the guy. All this was happening 
>just around the corner where I couldn't quite 
>get a good look at who  the trouble makers were, 
>but I knew. Oh, I knew alright. It was easy for 
>the cops to tell too when they finally came in the next morning.
>
>But anyway pinned helpless there I heard another 
>scream, I looked and finally I could see 
>something of what was going on just outside of 
>the shadows. It was coming from the negligee section.
>
>"Get your hands off me you, you... you...  piece of white... help! Help!"
>
>I looked over and it confirmed my suspicion. The 
>upper part of his garment was the tell tale 
>thing but with Lederhosen? I mean that's an odd 
>combination but these trouble makers, they'll 
>wear anything for an identity that draws attention  to them.
>
>All of a sudden the voices got louder. The 
>trouble makers with there accents and dialects 
>were pushing shoving and ripping everyone off 
>their hangers. You could hear shirts drop to the 
>floor, some in just a protective fetal position, 
>and others because they were yanked off the 
>rack, thrown down and stomped. Screams and 
>torrents of obscenities rang out along with 
>fabric names. Cotton, Rayon, Wool, Polyester 
>Blend, you name it and it was yelled out just 
>before they were beaten or tore to shreds.  If 
>attacking them for their textile ethnicity 
>wasn't good enough, the troublemakers began 
>spewing out styles. V-necks, tank tops, button 
>down, short sleeve, long sleeve, no sleeve, it 
>didn't matter they were out to make their mark 
>in the clothing section of the store. cries for 
>help  rang out one after another and like I say, 
>there I was pinned against the wall in "nail me 
>to the cross" mode, unable to do anything.
>
>Well, by the time the store manager got there in 
>the morning every stitch of clothing was tossed 
>on the floor. Buttons lay randomly in the isles 
>along with ripped off collars, pockets and 
>sleeves. Hangers littered the main isle next to 
>crumpled broken plastic displays and metal 
>tubular hanging racks tipped over. I was lucky 
>enough to have landed face down with the top of 
>my display wall propped  up against  the feet of 
>the denim shirt's round rack  that was in front 
>of me before all this started, so I wasn't 
>crushed. Yes, every stitch of clothing was 
>either tore, had its buttons popped, its buckles 
>wrenched off, or otherwise destroyed. When the 
>humans walked in only one set of garments was 
>left sitting untouched and only slightly 
>misarranged according to size as if they 
>scampered to return to the rack before someone saw.
>
>That's when they knew who caused all this 
>trouble.  Those troublemakers the hoodys. Its 
>always the hoodys, you can't trust a one of them 
>I tel ya. And it doesn't matter if they have 
>draw straps, are pull overs or zip, have tattoos 
>on their chest like the T-shirts or not. No 
>matter what color, solid or multi-colored, they 
>all were there hanging presuming innocence while 
>the rest of us lay in a shambles on the store manager's pretty little floor.
>
>
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