Anyway, he liked the way the first pair fit (same pants, different colors) and wore them on Thursday. Friday is casual day so he went to work in jeans. This morning as he was putting on the second pair, he noticed that each pant leg had an approximately one inch cut along both seams on the cuff.
This afternoon, I went to exchange them, receipt in hand. The cashier provided me with a green ‘exchange ticket’ and I began looking for a similar pair and browsing. When I approached the cashier station a second time, the store manager was up there and told me that he would not exchange the pants and accused me of purposely altering them.
He stated that 'his cashier' would never have allowed them to leave the store this way - uh-huh???
He questioned me as to why they were damp - they were not, merely cold from being in the car on a cold day.
He said they smelled of laundry detergent - they did not.
He asked why the tags were off - uh, because my husband had planned to wear the pants to work that day.
He asked why I had not noticed the cuts - because I was shopping without my husband and am not in the habit of trying on his clothing.
Dude, you got me, this is what I do for fun. I take a pair of twenty-freakin'-five dollar pants home, wait a few days, wreck them, then bring them back to the store so my kids can run around like wild men while I fight with a retail store manager. That's my idea of a good time. Afterward, I'm going to load the kids up with sugar, then go to a busy restaurant, where I'll return my food.
Eventually, while the kids destroyed a cuff link display (I totally let them) and as three other sets of patrons witnessed our tete-a-tete, he acquiesced and agreed to exchange the pants this one time.
Even now, two hours later, after writing the requisite hate letter to the corporate office and calling my immediate family to vent I'm so filled with righteous indignation, I had to blog...
Picture Jack Nicolson in A Few Good Men (only I'm innocent): I eat breakfast 3 feet from two preschoolers plotting to kill me. So don't think for one second you can come down here, flash a tape measure and make me nervous.