Monday morning I rode my bike to work, opened my backpack and realized my black pants were not in it. I have to wear black pants...I can't just wear my jean shorts. As my panic builds I run to wardrobe (yes, Casinos have everything from bakeries to metal shops inside) and ask if they have anything for me to wear. Note: I have less than ten minutes to find something black to put on my legs! They (four wonderfully nice ladies originally from the Philippines) ended up finding me pants that were two sizes too big and up to my chest when zipped up. When I told this story to my coworker he said the men (specifically Frank Sinatra) back in the day used to wear them like that so it wasn't so bad. Thanks bro.
Then today, I was leaving work, heading back to my locker (yes, I have a sweet locker like from high school) and did not have my key to get into that locker. I had to ask the nice lady in wardrobe for wire cutters to cut off my lock. Then I had to pay five dollars for a new lock.
Oh brother! Oh bother. Oh boy.
I hope I am not a dumbie anymore.
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