Turns out the 17-year-old girl’s scholastic aptitude was going to cost me a chunk of change and more than a little anguish.
Her induction into the National Honor Society required a new dress.
Being a man, and a thankful one at that, dress shopping was a new adventure for me. Kind of like your first root canal is an adventure.
First of all, if she was so smart, why didn’t she just make her own dress?
Instead, the initial conversation went something like this:
Dad: “What kind of dress do you need?”
Girl: “A semi formal dress.”
Dad: “I thought there wasn’t going to be a semi formal this year because of COVID.”
Girl: “There isn’t.”
Dad: “So what kind of dress do you need?”
Girl: “A semi formal dress. It’s a type of dress.”
Dad: “What kind of semi formal dress are you looking for?”
Girl: “I don’t know.”
Oh boy. Talk about your impossible missions. The girl was going to make me do something I loathe — shopping — without an exit strategy.
I am a man. Men do not shop. Shopping is browsing. It’s trying as many stores as it takes to get the best possible deal.
I am a buyer, not a shopper.
And, because she is a teenage girl, it had to happen on a weekend. The very next weekend. The first weekend of Big Ten football.
I envisioned stops at 20 stores and plenty of tears by the end of it. I had no idea what to expect from the girl.
I gave her pretty much carte blanche when it came to this particular venture with two exceptions:
• The dress material had to be flannel;
• And the bottom of the dress had to touch the top of her shoes.
Sounds reasonable, right?
Apparently not.
Thankfully for the girl, the world’s most adorable Co-Conspirator was on hand to buffer my expectations with what was, uh, realistic.
Our first stop was at Kohl’s.
The girl and the Co-Conspirator took off to wherever it was you go in Kohl’s to find dresses. I made a beeline for the men’s section and purchased my first new piece of clothing in more than a year, a nice sweatshirt that was nice enough to wear to work.
It took me 18 seconds to find the right size and secure my soon-to-be purchase. I did not look for a similar item at a lesser price. I did not look for a similar item in a slightly different color shade.
I came. I saw. I conquered.
I immediately went off in search of the ladies to show them how quickly buying can be done.
By the time I found them, they told me they were going to have to look elsewhere. They were not impressed with my quick buying example, either.
Women. Hmmph.
So they walked down the block in the shopping strip to another store while I waited in line to buy my sweatshirt.
By the time I had done the social distancing checkout process and exited the store, the girls were leaving store No. 2 and headed for store No. 3, which was also conveniently located in the same shopping strip.
Kind of like having the rack, the boiling water torture and colonoscopy spots within easy walking distance.
I haven’t been on a three-store shopping spree since the world’s greatest beautician had drug me along as a pre-teen, an excursion which gives me nightmares to this day.
I tracked the girls down at the third spot.
They browsed. I fumed.
I texted my daughter that if we needed to go to the mall, she should simply text back with the words, “I hate you Dad.”
She promptly did so.
The mall? The mall! And on a Saturday. What horrors awaited?!?
I was dropped off at the book store while the girl and the beautiful Co-Conspirator went shopping. I picked out a Bible and found a soft chair to sit on. I was about through Revelation when I got the text.
The girl had found a dress.
It had met the Co-Conspirator’s standards.
And it didn’t cost me an arm and a leg.
I consider that a victory — even if it wasn’t flannel.
The Link LonkNovember 04, 2020 at 12:00PM
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