In relation to yesterday’s entry about the goodie-grab, I have another wholesaler goodie story for you.
As I was saying yesterday, before the economic crisis hit, one of the big perks of my job was the wholesaler “stuff”. We would get everything from a holiday party, to regular parties, to lunches for product introductions, to sponsored meetings in other cities, and of course, the requisite tschochkes. Sometimes, the stuff is pretty cool: I like the nice ballpoint pens that say in their quiet way, “I have arrived.” I also have a wine-cooler carrying bag (which, for the record, I had to have, even though I’m not a wine drinker).
But sometimes, the stuff stinks pretty hardcore. For example, one wholesaler gave us Slinkies made out of plastic that didn’t have enough mass or length to actually do what they were supposed to do. How do we know? Because, a group of us – early-to-mid-20-somethings working for a Fortune 500 company – took to the stairwells on our lunch hour after receiving our Slinkies and tried them out. Talk about a bummer.
Another wholesaler goodie that I’ve never experienced but I’ve heard legend of is the wholesaler t-shirt. This is not the same as the Nike golf-shirt-giveaway; those golf shirts are actually quite nice, and the envy of the office. Nay, the wholesaler t-shirt is a wonder to behold. It’s innocent and unassuming in its pre-washed state: simple, usually white or gray, very basic logo on the left lapel; perfect for running, or yard chores, or sleeping.
However, when washed, the wholesaler t-shirt becomes a terrifying assault to the body and the eyes. Instead of shrinking all over to something that would now fit your child, the wholesaler tee shrinks in one direction, and that direction is hoochie. The wholesaler t-shirt becomes a lovely mid-riff-bearing skank top. Which would be okay if you were a hot cheerleader at a high-school car wash fundraiser, but not when you are my male co-worker who was going to wear it mowing the lawn. Howdy, neighbors!
I guess, adding insult to injury, apparently, it can’t even be worn under a dress shirt. My co-worker would start out the day, warily confident that the 1/4 of fabric that he had stretched down and tucked into the waistband of his pants would be fine for the majority of the workday. Come mid-day, or the first time he had to actually reach for the phone, the tee would come rocketing out of his waistband and underneath the pecs or even up into the armpits. And even if one were to smooth the shirt back down from the armpits, there is still the issue of “gappage” of about two inches, which is just enough to piss you off.
I hope that the next time there is a tschochke-grab, I might be able to find a wholesaler tee of my very own. If for nothing else, just for posterity.