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No.
Nope. You aren’t getting your tux for free.
Here’s why:
We are constantly getting cheap-ass people trying to save some $$ by scamming their local tux shop. Ruuuuuude.
When we see you try on the tux in the store and you say it’s good, we assume everything is hunky-dory. It’s almost like when you’re at a restaurant and have practically licked the plate clean. It’s pretty difficult to make the case that the food was awful. You wore it, we didn’t hear from you all weekend, so I’m guessing it worked.
And yet inevitably every week or so we get some lady (probably not the one wearing the tux, eh?) calling like a week after the wedding to say it didn’t fit.
Sorry your credit card is maxed out or whatever. I’m terribly sorry to say I don’t give a shit.
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The Dead Months…
Well it’s January. A New Year, and we are in the heart of the dead months…
What is that, you might ask?
The Godforsaken time of year where no one wants to get married because it is super cold out, and the brides can’t show off their not-so-impressive arms.
The shop is quiet. There is the occasional rental for a New Years party, but other than that business is bleak.
But wait— what is that on the horizon!? It’s the over-eager bride.Ladies, please. I’m so happy that you, like every other bride in the country, have decided on a June wedding, but please understand that as bored as I am I do NOT want to see you in January or worse yet, December.
Here’s why: I’m glad you’re planning ahead. Awesome. But things change. Kids grow, friends fade, color schemes are abandoned, and sometimes (Gasp!) so are you. (It’s happened, and it’s TRAGIC.) So wait a while. Get your dress. Pick a venue. There is plenty to do in the 5-months-out stage, but tux shopping should not be on your list.. yet.
Wait until March. I promise you can make it that long. Make sure you are on top of your groomsmen so they don’t come in to get fitted the week of the wedding, and save your youngins until the very last possible second. (Those damn things grow!)
So to all my June brides, I hope to see you in 3 months, and not a second sooner. For your sake as well as mine. :)
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Homecoming is not that big of a deal. Go away.
And I swear to God, if you come in last minute to get something because you just decided the DAY OF homecoming that you wanted to go, I will probably kill you.
Well, not kill. But hate.
Mothers- pay attention to the lives of your sons. If there’s a dance coming up, don’t worry about embarrassing them. For the love of God, ask them if they’re going. Ask them if they have a date. That way I don’t have to think you’re a bad, uninvolved parent when you come in the day of homecoming with your weirdly shaped and highly picky kid who can only wear special-ordered clothes. Seriously? I can’t imagine anything more rude and annoying. Or if you do come in, please. Just be polite, apologetic, and take what you can get.
Late orders are awful at prom too, but homecoming has an extra sting. I say this because I realize that prom is important. I get that. But with homecoming it’s just plain annoying because nobody really cares.
When did people start going to a tuxedo shop for homecoming in the first place? I did it out of convenience one year because I worked there, but seriously? Whatever happened to picking out a tie that sorta matched at JC Penny’s? -
Sunday Funday: Week Four (Twenty)
I thought this would be an appropriate time to talk about the various forms of narcotics we have found in tuxedos. I personally don’t have much experience with this, but I felt the stories were worth sharing.
So I personally have only found 2 bags o’ weed. One I had the pleasure of returning to a prom kid in front of his mother. I took great joy in fantasizing about the drive home they were going to have. And While I have not, I know my colleagues have found bongs before… Multiple times.
I’ve also unzipped garment bags to reveal what I call a hot-bagged tuxedo. There have been times a tux has reeked of weed so badly that I got concerned about getting a contact high.
Here are my questions for these people:
First- why supply your own drugs for a wedding, when the chances of you being able to get blitzed out of your mind on free booze are almost certain?
Second- why leave it in the tuxedo you know you’re going to return to a business? I do not personally partake in this specific activity, but I’d like to think that if I did, I would go to pretty great lengths to avoid prosecution. (Hint- pot has not been decriminalized in my state.)
Just wondering. Happy Sunday Funday, everyone!
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Week Three of Sunday Funday: Opposite Day
Well, today we found a metal spoon, but since last week we talked about my favorite thing I ever found in a tuxedo, today we’ll talk about my least favorite thing I ever found in a tuxedo:
Poop.
Seriously?
Do you realize what that means!???
This guy was not only going commando in RENTED PANTS, but he got so drunk that he literally shat himself.
Wow.
Do yourself a favor, and try to live a life as opposite as possible from this guy’s.
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While out and about:
I noticed a woman with a bow tie tattooed on her neck. She is my hero.
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Children: Not Welcome.
Ok. This sounds harsh, I know.
Not to say that I totally hate kids, I have a niece and a nephew of whom I am fond.
BUT- Kids have their place in society, namely the Chuck-e-Cheese ball pens.
Please. Please, PLEASE do not bring anything between the ages of 2-10 into the store unless it is strapped into a stroller. Even then, ehhhh…..
Here’s why: I understand young couples who have gone off the beaten path of “marriage, then kids” wanting to show off their young brood. Fine. Especially if one of them is going to be a ring bearer. Fine. But only if you are only there to get the kid fitted.
Why? Because kids don’t like tux shops. And parents rarely have the attention span to keep an eye on their kid while they’re doing their own assorted tasks, for which the kid certainly should not be present. So, while the parents are busy, the kid trolls around the store filled with small things (like cufflinks) that pose a huge choking hazard, and mannequins which have a nasty habit of falling over onto small children when tugged. Not to mention that they tend to smear their hands and/or faces all over the windows I will later have to clean.
Now here’s the No. 1 reason why I don’t want kids in the store:
A family came in with a troupe of kids threatening to overthrow Octomom or Kate + 8. The youngest of which was about 2. They placed her on the counter and proceeded to ask me all the basic questions: how much is this, what about this, what day do we return it, etc. They left after a while which is when I noticed the counter.
YUP. It was covered in this two-year-old’s urine from her failing diaper.
Leave the kids at home, please.
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Week Two of Sunday Funday (One day late..)
Sunday Funday installment number two:
The best thing I’ve ever found in the groom’s tuxedo:
The wedding certificate.
(We called his cell phone, not wanting to get him in trouble with his new wife less than a day after their wedding.)
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Here’s the thing:
If you’re going to come in to get fitted for a tuxedo, please wear a shirt with sleeves so I don’t have to touch your underarms.
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An Intro to ‘Sunday Funday’:
Sundays are an odd day for me.
It’s kind of like the phenomenon of going on a roller coaster: you know it’s going to be scary, but you sill want to go. Not just for the experience and entertainment, but to prove that you can handle it.
The explanation for this comparison lies in one word: returns.
Yes, Sundays are return days. The day I have the cheery job of poking through the tuxes from last night. And yes, it’s true: Sundays were the inspiration for this blog.
So every Sunday I will write a new anecdote about some of the outrageous tuxedos that were returned to us either that day, or from past experiences. Trust me, you’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and you’ll feel nauseous. Enjoy the ride.
I’ll start with the story of “Little Dude”:
This particular Sunday started off as normal as they ever do. We were taking in tuxedos slowly but surely, but we were still waiting on most of one wedding party. Around 1PM one guy, Michael* came in to return his tuxedo. He was very courteous, and his tuxedo was in good condition, aka an ideal customer. We crossed his name off the list and thought nothing else of it.
Later, therest of Michael’s fellow groomsmen, ushers, etc. came in. “Stormed in” is actually more appropriate. They were the typical loud, rowdy group of 20-somethings we see so often in this business, and based on their behavior and… odor… they were probably still intoxicated.
Making small talk, we politely asked the mob how the wedding was and received a hearty chorus of “Ohhh DUDE! It was the BEST WEDDING EVERRRRRRR” from almost every groomsmen. Then the stories started: “Yeah, so like the groom’s ex-girlfriend showed up and started punching people, and got arrested..”, “Yeah, dude! Some people got in a fight and like 8 people went to the hospital…”. All of these tidbits were followed by another chorus of “BEST WEDDING EVERRRRRR”.
This continued like this for a while as they described what I pictured as the world’s most dysfunctional wedding. Then one of the groomsmen became quite somber, saying “Man, it’s a shame about Little Dude…” to which the group responded “Ahhhhhhh, Little Dude!!!”. We took the bait. “What happened to ‘little dude’, and who is he?” I aksed.
Their answer would shock me to the core. Me, a seasoned tuxedo consultant who truly believed she had seen it all.
“Man, he was one of the groomsmen. He died, man! He died!” said one of the scruffier guys. And his companions once again chorused with various versions of “Poor Little Dude..”
So my mind is flashing.. I’m thinking “I need this tuxedo! What do I do, do I call the morgue? His family?” While this is going on the guys were still chanting their “Poor Little Dude, man… he was cool” mantras until one shocked me even more by saying “But it was still the BEST WEDDING EVERRRR!!!”. Boy, did they get over that quickly.
I tried to get practical, pulling out the wedding folder to see who was missing. I asked “What was his real name?”
The scruffier one who had spoken up before replied “Michael, man… Mikey-Mike.. Little Dude.”
My light bulb went off. “Michael…?” And I verified the last name, to which I received a chorus of affirmations from the group, with a few “Little Dudes” thrown in the mix.
That was the moment that I was able to give the best news I have ever had the pleasure of delivering:
“Michael is alive! He came in this morning to return his tuxedo!”
For once, there was silence.
…But it didn’t last long. “LITTLE DUDE!!! LITTLE DUDE IS ALIVE, MAN!! LITTLE DUDE!”
They left shortly thereafter leaving the store eerily quiet. I’ve often wondered how much of a mess that wedding must have been to have almost every emergency vehicle present at one time. So much of a mess, even, that the groomsmen would be left with the impression that one of their own had died in all the chaos.
I can only come up with one conclusion:
That it was the BEST WEDDING EVERRRRRRRR!!!
