How Not to Sell Me a Suit

For some reason, last week I got it into my head that I needed a new suit. I own a black suit, but it doesn't fit me all that well and so I was hoping to get something new to wear for a birthday party that I am allegedly invited to and even, perhaps, for my upcoming Vegas trip.

So I got it into my head that I needed a new suit, but I didn't have any idea about my measurements.

I looked online for a suit that would be reasonable, thinking I could get it hemmed or whatever they do to make things fit better once I received it. I still didn't know my suit measurements, however.

I went into Men's Wearhouse yesterday, thinking I could get in, get the info, and get out. I wasn't eager to buy there for one primary reason: salesdudes.

Several years ago, well before the current version of my life, I went into Men's Wearhouse to get a suit. I went with my ex- and I was educated/talked to for a long time by a salesdude that seemed about 0.13% (that is about one part in 800) sincere. Maybe I read him wrong, and he was just really passionate about getting people into new clothes so they'd look better, but...

Anyway, I walked into the store I was immediately greeted. Not like a, "What's up?"-type of greeting, but a "I want to sell you a car TODAY!"-type of greeting. My distaste was ameliorated by several large signs up around the store: 50% off all suits. Hmm. Maybe I would buy something.

Or maybe not.

The guy who had pounced upon me talked to me for about 37 seconds, grabbed a suit from the rack, had me try on the jacket and then said he'd be back.

Where was he going? I didn't know. What was I supposed to do other than stare at myself in the mirror while he was gone? I didn't know.

After about five minutes, I noticed he was wrapping up a transaction with another customer... OK. Fine. He'll be right with me, right ... ?

Well. He wasn't. He disappeared again, and I was staring at myself in the same charcoal 39L jacket (which fit pretty well) and I was bored and irritated. Why the f would I want to spend that large of a chunk of my Saturday morning like that?

Further, I was not alone. I was not being actively served, but I was standing next to a salesdude. THE salesdude. After six+ years, the same guy who had helped me was still working there, and still was brimming with the pseudo-passion that he had exhibited so many years before.

After what seemed like forever (but was probably about three minutes more) of not seeing my salesdude, I removed the jacket. I set the suit down. I walked out the store.

That is definitely not the way to sell me a suit.