I wandered into Robbins’ Brothers the other day, with the ill-conceived idea that I would pick out something nice for my girlfriend for our anniversary (I now know the only correct way to pick out jewelry for a woman is to have one of her close friends or sisters do it for you, and completely ignore any input you have on the matter. Thankfully I learned this lesson in time before picking out a tacky broach shaped like a butterfly for $300.) Perhaps it was the fraternity t-shirt I was wearing, or maybe the sweatpants and flip-flops, or uncombed hair, or some combination of all three, but the salesman gave me sort of an odd look.
“I’m interested in looking at a piece for my girlfriend,” I said, being careful to annunciation each word, to help dispel his obvious suspicion that I was there to rob the place. “What price point would you recommend?”
“Well, it depends,” said the salesman, his gaze up and down my attire communicating that he had not yet been convinced by my sophisticated character and cosmopolitan charm. “What did you do?”
And thus, an important lesson in why guys in sweatpants are usually buying jewelry.
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