The CEO hates clothes shopping. Of things I wear that were actually paid for, the vast majority were purchased over the internet. Sometimes though, it just can’t be helped. And the CEO is in a spot where it can’t: I have a wedding in LA to attend in a few weeks, and I don’t currently own pants that are fancy enough for the occasion.
I learned a while ago that when I do actually need to get something nice, don’t skimp. So Sunday morning I took myself to the Washington Square Nordstrom and put myself in their capable hands. The people working in the Men’s Fine Furnishing department are absolute pros with the clothes, but also very adept at making you feel like a gentleman. In most parts of Nordstrom I am fairly out of my element anyway, but that particular corner? It’s like a different world. I was called “sir” more times than I can recall, and this time it wasn’t even preceded with “please sit down,” or “you’re making a scene.”
The sales lady realized immediately that I had no idea what I really wanted nor even what I was looking at. Flat front or pleated, sir? Umm. . . which do you like better? That exchange pretty much set the tone for our transaction. She quickly steered me toward a couple of pairs of acceptable fancy pants, and without measuring me or asking my size she pulled the exactly correct one pair from the rack and then sent me to see the tailor. She instructed the tailor on the necessary changes (she jumped right in after hearing: Sir, how do you want cuff to break? Uh, normal?) and was good enough not to notice or at least comment on my expression as a small Korean woman was tugging at my crotch to ensure that the inseam hung correctly. Now that’s service.
