Suspenders
"If it seem too good to be true, it probably is"
Let's start by saying that I hadn't had any dealings with the dry cleaners in many years. That was never my job. Ditto for the seamstress. Anything having to do with washing, drying or cleaning and adjusting the various items of clothing was handled by the more qualified. I was not even deemed qualified to operate her washer and dryer. Honestly, I didn't mind.
But that's all changed now.
Always thought that suspenders that fastened to the pants by means of buttons added a touch of class. At least they do not depend on alligator clips that often lose their grip and provide embarrassing moments. I was, therefore, justifiably proud when I became the owner of a large selection of button-on suspenders. (that's another story) Being in good shape, as I am, have never had a real need for suspenders. However, with time "shape" has become more rounded and has made the belt a far less effective means of trouser support.. For jeans, etc there is a leather set that merely snap on to the belt loops, front and back and do a fine job. These, however, don't look very stylish.
Anyhow, there was a problem with the new suspenders, namely buttons. None of my trousers had the necessary buttons with which to attach the new suspenders. Not being enamored with the idea of sowing on buttons, (six buttons per pair of pants, times the number of pants in the closet, could add up to a full time occupation, and besides there were no buttons.) I inquired at the cleaners' as to the cost of button sewing-on.
"fifteen", she said, after consulting the seamstress and what appeared to be a tattered pricing manual.
"fifteen?", says I, requesting confirmation of what seemed to be a pricing scale circa 1920.
fifteen, what a deal, I thought as I did the mental calculations
"I'll bring 'em in."
And subsequently delivered six pair for the sewings-on of buttons. They took down the usual name, rank, serial number, date of birth, etc. You know the drill.
They were to be picked up on Thursday next. Told all my friends about available bargains and recommended that they should get their buttons sewed on there, quickly, before the prices went up!
Upon arriving for the scheduled pickup and handing over the ticket, I watched as she scanned the bar code on the ticket, turned to the travelling rack as it stopped and delivered a neatly wrapped set of hangers to the hanging post by the register. A few key taps and the machine produced a paper tape.
She tore it off , glared at it for a second or two, and announced, without looking up:
"Thattelbe ninety".
My mind whirled and I tried to match this with the "fifteen" I had heard earlier.
"ninety?"
"ninety."
Rummaged in my pocket for my tattered money clip and produced a dollar bill
She look at the dollar, then at me
I looked at her and then at the bill
"you said ninety?" I said, nudging the dollar a little closer to the register,
"Ninety Dollars," she sez, her tone was somewhere between irritation and condensation.
"ninety dollars?
"fifteen times the six pair."
"oh," I said weakly and scrambled for a credit card.
Handed over the card, the register produced a ticket for Eighty One dollars, which I signed, took back my pants and slunk out the door.
I have no idea where the other nine dollars went; I did not ask. Perhaps a senior discount? More likely an allowance for stupidity.
I may just wear overalls.
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