I found this cool Mr. Potato Head shirt for $3 in a thrift store:
I loved that shirt. I felt great wearing it and I got a ton of compliments on it.
I was wearing it when I went out to Applebees with my brother Joe.
We were sitting there minding our own business, when I noticed this woman staring at me. Every time I looked her way, she was boring a hole in me. I’d look away to avoid escalating the awkwardness factor.
Eventually she got up and approached our table. I braced for something weird and wasn’t disappointed. She wanted my shirt.
She had a convoluted story about how it was perfect for some project she was working on. I was sympathetic but firm. No. Just no.
“How much would you pay for it?” my brother asked. My head swiveled rapidly around to face him, with the ‘how could you betray me like that’ mask on.
He gave a barely-perceptible shrug, I guess operating on the assumption that everyone has a price, and curious to find out what hers (and mine) was. “Would you give him $90 for it?”
She thought for a few seconds, then agreed. Two sets of eyes then turned on me. I wish I had had a mirror to reflect their lasers right back at them.
But I didn’t, so I wilted, then eventually relented. I stripped off the shirt and sat there in my bright white undershirt, feeling humiliated. Ninety dollars richer, but humiliated.
Even after retreating to the car and realizing it was the best thrift store flip I had ever been a part of, I regretted it. I had a wad of cash in my pocket, but I’d never again be as cool as I was when I wore that Mr. Potato Head shirt.