Shopping For A New Golf Shirt
So the objective is simple: convince twelve women to buy the same golf shirt. This activity has historically required a treaty, a mediator, and at least one witness protection program.
“Does it come in sleeveless? Long sleeve? Possibly… no sleeve but also a jacket?”
“What kind of fabric is it made of? Because my skin has opinions.”
“Is it moisture-wicking? Or is it the kind that holds onto sweat like it’s a cherished family heirloom?”
“I like the motif.”
“I think I have earrings to match. If I don’t, I will acquire them. This is now a mission.”
“Thirty dollars is cheap.”
“Thirty dollars is suspicious. What’s it doing for that price? Who is it working for?”
“Is it roomy or boxy? I want ‘effortless’—not ‘moving day.’”
“Tight in the chest? Because I’m here to golf, not to test a zipper’s will to live.”
“Does it make my back look fat?”
“Nothing makes your back look fat. But fluorescent lighting in dressing rooms should be illegal.”
“I love pink.”
“I don’t love pink.”
“Can we change the flamingos to ibis? I’m trying to look ‘sporty coastal,’ not ‘escaped lawn ornament.’”
“The pattern is good.”
“The pattern is too busy.”
“Busy patterns hide faults.”
“Oh, I don’t care—”
“—so long as the fabric doesn’t make me sweat.”
“I heat up easily.”
“I don’t.”
“I’m always cold.”
“How about the one with the flowers?”
“What flowers—lilies?”
“No, the orchids. Remember? The ones that look expensive and slightly judgmental.”
“It comes in different colors, too.”
And then—miracle of miracles—two of us reach for the same one at the same time. We freeze. We stare. We laugh. “Okay,” someone says, “if we both like it, it’s basically a scientific fact.” Twelve credit cards tap in unison, the cashier blinks twice, and just like that, we’ve achieved world peace… in matching shirts.
