I got to work this morning and bent over to turn on the space heater underneath my desk. The backside of my pants split.
What I should have done in this situation is go and ask the administrative assistant who seems to have all the resources under the sun if she had a needle and thread. Or I could have gone home and just changed pants.
What I actually did was go to a gas station to see if they had a miniature sewing kit. They had everything. They had shoe polish, Emory boards and sixteen different kinds of condoms. All of these toiletry-type items were hanging up behind the cashier. I stepped up to the counter behind a child buying some candy. Then three other children buying candy cut in front of me to stand next to the first child. They did not pay together, which took a long time.
And when there’s a rip in the backside of your pants, everything seems to take longer than it actually does.
I stepped up to the counter and said, “Do you have a sewing kit?” The woman behind the counter chose not to say any words. Probably because she didn’t know what the words I was using meant. I pantomimed and said, “Needle and thread?” She chuckled and shook her head, no.
Why was that funny?
There was a dry cleaner next door. “Alterations” was listed as one of the services on the window. I walked in. The space was sparse and there was only a counter and a long rack of clothes. The rest of the space was empty. It looked like they were either still moving in or had already moved out.
“I ripped a hole in the back of the pants that I’m wearing and I was wondering if you had a spare needle and some thread?” I asked.
“No, this is just a drop-off location.”
I walked out and I’m sure she was watching me leave. It seemed weird that people would drop off their clothes to a room where they can carpool to go and get cleaned.
I ended up just going to the grocery store. Solved. But it just shouldn’t be that difficult to find a needle and thread. I’m not making any grand promises, but I intend to always make a travel sewing kit more easily at my disposal because you never know when you’ll arrive at work and your pants will fail in the most unattractive of ways.