Yesterday I did something I told myself I’d never, ever do. But circumstances made me do it. Now when I see a woman dressed in her “pajama” bottoms at Walmart, maybe I won’t utter to myself, “Where’s her pride?”
The wind was blowing the softly falling snowflakes sideways. The windchill of the -1 degree Fahrenheit temperature made the temperature feel like -17 degrees. Barney Welsh corgi and I were snuggled up at home ready for a lazy day.
Ring! Ring! It was my neighbor from across the street. She had a problem.
“Albertson’s was to deliver some groceries to me yesterday, but when I called to see why they hadn’t, a person told me my credit cards were declined. So, I called the bank. A banker said I’d have to go into the bank to get it straightened out.”
“What! It’s supposed to get even colder over the weekend and not warm up until Tuesday. Today’s Friday. That’s a lot of days without your groceries.”
“Well, yes, I know. But the bank woman said they couldn’t do anything without the cards, so I need to go in.”
That seemed odd. My credit cards are from national companies where you call an 800 number, wait forever and eventually are connected to a person with a name you can’t pronounce. However, maybe her’s were issued from a local bank.
After telling my neighbor I’d pick her up, I quickly ripped off my pajamas and grabbed a pair of fuzzy green pants which were the warmest things in my closet. They looked like pjs with a cuff around the ankles. (Jogger is what the label called them, honest.) They’d be fine for an errand like this. I wanted to wear something comfortable so I wouldn’t need to change again when I got home.
Next, I slipped on a T-shirt and pulled my snow boots on so they covered the pant cuffs. My black down filled coat covered my braless top half. With my light pink Elmer Fudd hat plunked on my messy hair, I headed for my car in the garage.
Once we got inside the bank, the polite woman assisting us was unsympathetic to my neighbor’s plight. After a glance at the cards, she looked up and said, “Oh, there’s nothing we can do. These cards weren’t issued by our bank. You’ll need to call the bank who issued them.”
Bending over her cane, my neighbor whispered to me, “Oh, I wish my husband was here. He was so good. He’d already have it straightened out.”
Unfortunately, he had died several months earlier, and not only did she miss his company after sixty plus married years, she now had to take care of things he’d always done.
“It could take several days to get this sorted out. Meanwhile she can’t get her groceries delivered. Do you have any idea what she might do till then?” I asked the clerk who shook her head, no.
After a pause, she said, “I suppose she could use her debit card.”
Since my neighbor didn’t have one, the clerk produced a debit card for her. I took my neighbor home. Across the street, Barney greeted me with his usual enthusiasm.
As I sat drinking a cup of tea, I thought about how hastily I’d dressed to go to the bank without much thought to how I looked. Maybe the next time I saw someone in Walmart in their pajamas, I’d give them a pass. It could be the label on their pants said “jogger,” too.
What’s your opinion on the casual dress some women wear when they go to places like Walmart? Out to dinner? To a movie?
Have a great day!
P.S. Sorry there are no pictures this time. Did you really need to see the Jogger label?
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