A tale of two suits. Well actually, three.

At work on Wednesday Jim was helping a gent pick out a suit. It was for a special occasion; his wedding. After looking around town at other suit purveyors, he returned to shop at Men's Wearhouse because his past experiences had been very positive. I'm not sure why he wasted his time looking around at other places when he'd had a good experience at TMW before, and trying to guess why will only lead me down a path of mental futility. I'd never know if  my guesses were right or not.

Anyway, the guy spent half an hour to forty-five minutes with Jim carefully trying on a variety of styles in light gray suits. He'd selected a couple of shirts and ties as the possible accessories to take home. He phoned his fiance to let her know that his mission had been accomplished. He'd found a suit that he really liked and had even gone the extra mile and picked out some colorful ties to wear after his wedding. His soon-to-be bride was in the area shopping and wanted to come by and check it out. They waited only a couple of minutes for her to arrive.

When the future Mrs. Customer walked in she greeted her Beau with a moist peck on the cheek. They then went to the the table where he proudly showed her the suit he'd selected. Her reaction was one of disappointment that bordered on disgust as she said "I don't like it."

Beau's response was "Well, I do."

"Well, I don't. Have you looked at Macy's?"

"Yes, I just came from there and I didn't like any of them."

At this point Beau could see the disagreement was not something to be shared and asked Jim for a minute. Jim walked to the back of the store and took a break. After several minutes Beau gave him a nod and Jim approached. The bride had left.

With tears in his eyes Beau explained that his fiance wanted him to go back and look at Macy's with her. With as much enthusiasm as he could fake, he shook Jim's hand and promised that he'd be back.

He didn't come back.

On Friday I was helping a customer, he was getting all suited up for his mission. It was a family affair. His Mom, a younger sister maybe eleven years old and another, older than that sister that was bored out of her mind, with about fourteen years under her belt.

The missionary had selected a couple of striped suits and was in the dressing room putting on the britches. While he was tucked away changing I listened as the youngest sister said "Mom, I like the other suit better." His Mothers response reflected love and appreciation for her son and her response showed that she truly valued her sons happiness. She said to the little one "It doesn't matter what we like. What is important is what Stafford likes." He of course bought the suits he liked and was happy with his choice.

As I juxtaposed the two customers the difference was obvious to me. I realized that in spite of the soon to be brides confession, her fiance did not feel loved; he felt hurt. Hurt enough that he was crying in public. Unfortunately unless his girlfriend can wake up and see how she is treating him, the way that she does won't be any different after they walk the isle. In fact it will only get worse.