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Tuesday, December 13, 2016
A Suit Just Doesn’t Suit Me
A Suit Just Doesn’t Suit Me
I think one of the things I enjoy most about retirement is I don’t have to wear a suit. When I worked, I had to wear a suit every day; why I don’t know, it is not as if I ever had a face to face with a customer. I worked in what they call the “Back Office” operations in a very large Brokerage Firm.
I have never been comfortable in a suit, and I never look good in a suit. I know some people who love wearing suits. A suit makes them feel powerful, and they wear it well. Pressed, crisp, shoes spit shined, these good suit wearers always looked good, never wrinkled. People who wear a suit well are always successful.
I could never find a suit that fit correctly. My shirt collars were always too tight, my shirt sleeves always too long or too short, my newly polished shoes were always stepped on several times before I made it to the office. My suits looked crisp and clean when I left the house. I arrived at work damp and rumpled. I never looked good in a suit. I think if I did I may have risen to a higher rank at work. It was not to be. No one wants a rumpled manager.
I hated those dress shirts as well. I missed more trains because I could not get that stupid useless tiny button, just beyond the wrist of the shirt, connected. It was near impossible, but I would not leave home until I got them fastened. Often when the shirt came back from the cleaner those tiny buttons all starched up broke under the pressing process. Buttoning a tiny half button was doubly difficult.
Stupid wrist button, can't see'em, can't button'em up.
I now almost never wear a suit. I only need one for weddings or funerals. Mrs. C didn’t like any of my old work suits so several years ago, she took me to buy a new suit for a wedding. The suit store had a sale; buy one get two suits free, which meant that for $375, you get three $125 suits. They only have these sales on days that end in a “Y.”
I got a dark suit for the wedding, a light suit for summer and striped suit for applying for a mortgage. I only wore the wedding suit once and then I lost two sizes of body weight.
We had another wedding, so I now have three more suits. Three suits for a fat Cranky, three suits for a svelte Cranky. Six suits for a retired man who never looks good in a suit anyway.
I told Mrs. Cranky to save one of the striped suits for the viewing. I hate viewings, but I guess I won’t really have any say.
It does piss me off to think that the last thing my friends and family will have to say about me is, “They did a wonderful job; except he looks rumpled in that suit.”