So, a coworker thought it would be a good idea to take some dress clothes to a sketch-ass dry cleaner that is housed in the bottom of our office building—next to a café. Well, when said coworker got back his three pairs of dress pants, they all had holes and burn marks in them. When he confronted the dry cleaner, he was told that he must have moths. Yes, moths were to blame for this catastrophe.
My coworker, enraged, almost punched the dude (and I’m going to assume that the dry cleaner is gay here), leaving me to ponder the odd image of an infuriated guy screaming at a dry cleaner next to a café as folks are walking into work early on a weekday morn. Anyway, the coworker took the pants to his tailor, who said, definitively, that the damage could not have been done by moths.
When my coworker ran into the dry cleaner again in the elevator, he informed him of what the tailor had said, which preceded another argument, which led to raised voices, which naturally resulted in my coworker calling the Better Business Bureau and lodging a formal complaint. Now the dry cleaner has to pay to have the pants sent to a special lab in Charlotte that will determine whether the property destruction could have possibly been due to a moth infestation.
And yes, this happened.
Anyway, like so many other events in my life, this episode reminded me of a “Seinfeld” episode …
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