Home Office Attire

So I started a new job in January with a manufacturer based out of Milwaukee. One of the requirements of the job is to travel 2-3 weeks of every month throughout the Southeastern portion of the United States. I love this job and in fact, it is the best job I have ever had. I like the travel, the people are great, but the best thing about my job is the home office week. I wake up at 7:58 a.m. everyday, stumble to my computer, log into IM (our company’s virtual way of punching the clock) and start my day.

Now as I got more and more comfortable in this routine I realized that I could spend all day in what I slept in the night before which usually consisted of a pair of boxers and a comfortable t-shirt. As the days rolled on during my home office weeks I realized a few tweaks needed to be made. As an example, if someone came to the door, (UPS man, semi-working stoner from the floor beneath, Publisher’s Clearinghouse, whoever) I didn’t want to answer the door in my boxers with my hair completely disheveled. I came to this conclusion the first time someone knocked on my door and I had to scramble around like the apartment looking for my clothes like that time in high school when my girlfriend’s father came home two hours earlier than expected. Except this time I didn’t have to jump out of a window half naked and jog to a buddy’s house.

Wanting to avoid future mad dashes I always pulled out a pair of short and left my Cubs hat on my desk so if someone did come I was 15 seconds away from being as proper as I felt I needed to be.

Now this plan seemed perfect until this morning. I am dutifully typing away at my computer this morning and I hear a knock at the door. I quickly pull on a pair of shorts, flip on my cap and go to the door to see who it is. The UPS man, (who happened to be a woman), greeted me, gave me a small box (something I had ordered from work) and the clipboard looking thingy to sign. As I extended both of my arms to grab the small box and the clipboard from the future I realized that I had put both of my arms through the two huge holes on the sides of the shirt that developed over 18 years and not the sleeves of my favorite t-shirt. Realizing I was too old to look like an extra from Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome a decision needed to be made.

My favorite t-shirt was given to me as a 10th grade birthday present from my mom. When I unwrapped the box and laid my eyes on it the first time I was underwhelmed to say the least. It was plain white t-shirt that had an oversized Nike swoosh symbol on it with the words S O C C E R underneath it. Now I hadn’t played soccer since my AYSO days when my career highlight as a 6 year old was playing goalie I accidently bicycle kicked a goal in on myself and we lost 1-0 (true story). So seeing a soccer t-shirt wasn’t real high on birthday wish list, which I spent 6 months on and had 37 items forced rank on it. When I asked my mom about returning it, she said it was on sale for a few bucks but we could try to get something else for it if I wanted. Realizing that I wasn’t going to get anything else worthwhile with the money I kept it.

I couldn’t tell you how or when it exactly happened but over the years through high school, college, my many moves all over the country the Nike soccer shirt just felt right when I wore it. You know the feeling, not to tight around the neck, plenty of room in the shoulders, it was the most comfortable shirt I owned. So after 18 years of heavy rotation it was pretty beat up. To the point where it had been regulated to a sleeping shirt, not one I was allowed to where in public. Through the years many a girlfriend tried to get throw the shirt out, one went as far as to throw it out, but I quickly retrieved it and dumped her soon after (unrelated, maybe).

After the incident with the UPS Lady though, I knew it was time. I didn’t want to be like those pet owners that keep their loved ones on life support for 4 years after Spot should have been put down. Throwing it in the trash just seemed wrong, so instead I put it in it’s own plastic bag walked it to the dumpster, said a few words and tossed it inside. I admit I got a few looks when I played Taps on my iPhone and gently wept, but I didn’t care. Me and my favorite shirt had some real history together and you don’t just throw that away.