Throughout my married life (26+ years!), I've shopped at Sam's Club (warehouse club that competes with Costco's) for everything I possibly can, though I've never stooped so far as to actually purchase clothing there ('till recently). Earlier this year, I actually bought a bag of basic ankle-high (white cotton) socks, and though I purchased a too small "size range", I was surprisingly pleased with not only their price but their wearability.
In the same vein as my socks, I've always been hard on my underwear (skivvies), though it's important to know that I DO change my underwear daily (I've heard of guys who forego this hygienic 24-hour habit). Please know, dear reader, the thought of repeat-wearing my briefs is not at all appealing to me.
Keeping that in mind, I'd executed an underwear purge a few months back (discarding the too stained / too holey ones) and found myself down to the bare minimum quantity (daily wear!). As such, I'd sometimes open my undies drawer, post-morning shower, and find the "men's lingerie" section depleted. Therefore, in order to not have to go through the day covertly posing as a porn model (sans Jockeys), I'd bolt to the laundry room anxiously in an attempt to locate some fresh whitie-tighties.
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Sam's Club is the bastion of cheap. If you were looking for the most uncool place within our free enterprise society to admit to being a patron, it would be Sam's Club. It screams cornpone, folksy to the same degree that Neiman Marcus decrees established ritz. At Sam's Club, there's definitely no valet parking. In fact, there aren't even any shopping bags. It's just sealed concrete floors, asphalt paving (for miles), harsh overhead lighting (suspended by chain link from the exposed bar joists) and supersized signage (glued-on vinyl letters) displaying words like:
FROZEN
REFRIGERATED
RESTROOMS
VISION
PHARMACY
SNACKS
VARIOUS QUOTES FROM SAM WALTON'S WIFE
So, you guessed it. I decided to purchase some replacement underwear from Sam's Club as a follow-up to my aforementioned sock buying success. And, I must admit, these briefs are brief. They're absolutely no frills (there's no tag, only silk-screened text directly on the fabric). But that's okay. I'm not shopping at a department store or even an outlet retailer. No, this is Sam's Club.
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Inevitably, when I was growing up in Bob & Darlene's household, my father would forgo re-dressing himself after exiting the master bedroom after a long day at work (he was a salesman). To be more specific, he wore a coat and tie to the office most days (even on hot, humid summer days), therefore the very first thing he'd do whilst arriving home was go straight to my parents' bedroom to shed his "uniform". At the same time, he inevitably had a lot on his mind that he wanted to share with us (mostly my mom), having been away throughout the workday. Hence, in lieu of re-dressing into his "around the house attire" (depending on the season) prior to exiting the master bedroom (& walking back to the other end of our ranch house), he'd - more often than not - prance back into the kitchen / den in nothing but his skivvies, passionately chatting incessantly about this or that.
And this was simply due to him not having the wherewithal to take a few additional needed minutes (seconds?) to re-dress himself prior to engaging with my mother and me.
Thankfully, five to ten minutes later, he would return again to the master bedroom and put on some clothes. In many ways, this bizarre routine was like watching a misplaced stage performer abruptly enter and exit repeatedly - between scenes - sans any actual costume change. Call it a dress rehearsal sans dress.
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Of course, like father, like son.
I do the exact same thing many a workday. Just as I described my father doing when I was a boy. And what's truly hilarious regarding my situation is our master bedroom is much closer to our home's living space(s) than what my dad dealt with.
And I have to admit, this pedigreed zaniness has been going on for quite a long while. Embarrassing my children especially, just as my father did to me.
As such, at some point last week, Angie let me in on an observation that my middle daughter made to her, in private, relative to my perpetual "brief" antics. Apparently, she divulged to her that "dad's new underwear is practically see-through".
Practically.
Practically?
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So, this leads me to believe that Mr. Sam Walton had at least one additional interest besides making boatloads of money selling discounted cereal and toilet bowl cleaner.
Now, today, I actually see my bi-monthly Sam's Club shopping experience a little differently. Yes, I'm grateful for the low prices and the myriad of merchandise available to purchase (in bulk), but now too, I'm exceedingly pleased to be in on Sam's little secret.
Who'd a thunk? Sexy Sam. You bad boy you.
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