And Don’t Forget My Black T-Shirt
If you don’t know where that line came from, you probably don’t listen to a lot of Ben Folds Five. Don’t worry about that. We’re not here to talk about Ben Folds Five. We’re here to talk about the thieving jackasses at the laundry point. I do not know why I act like I was born yesterday and just discovered how shitty people are. This is not news to me, but once again I am completely astounded at the low-lifery of people. Stealing clothes. Really? And you have a job, so I don’t understand what the problem is. Why do you want someone else’s castoff garments, I just don’t get it.
So, I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that I have been a victim of theft by the people who work in the laundry facility. At least three or four times a week I go in there with my clothes to get them washed. I have not had any problems, except for random missing socks, this whole time I’ve been here. I’ve been washing the same three running shirts and the same three running shorts ever since they allowed us to wear civilian PTs. I go in there three times a week with a separate laundry bag for my civilian clothes. I do not inventory my military stuff because I really don’t care about them like that. I do care about my civilian clothes, stuff I actually paid for. I take the time to inventory one black t-shirt, one black shorts, and one black spandex shorts. I only bring one running outfit at a time, so they don’t get confused. I do like the sign says. I inventory when I bring the clothes in and I inventory when I get the clothes out. Today, I got back one black shorts and one black spandex shorts. Uhm, where is my one black t-shirt? The guy is looking at me like he has never seen that black t-shirt before. You know where it is. You gave it to your wife or one of your girlfriends.
I want my shit back.
I have a valid claim because I followed all directions according to everything that is posted on the wall in there. The guy made some big show of calling people all over the place. I don’t care if he calls President Obama. I would like to have my shirt back. So then he asks me how much the shirt was. The thing is, there is no price. It is the shirt I got when I did the Monster Dash last year. It is actually a very nice Under Armour shirt. It was a surprising race premium because that particular race only cost $15. A 5K can cost like $50 and most of the time they upcharge if you want a nicer t-shirt than the crummy cotton one they usually give out. The shirt is really nice AND I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE IT BACK.
I told the guy it cost $40, which is reasonable. Under Armour shirts are expensive. I know everyone is thinking that I shouldn’t wear my nice stuff but when you bring the laundry people cheap shit, it gets faded or messed up and you end up having to buy something to replace it. You spend more money that way. If people would just be fucking honest and leave shit alone that is not theirs, then it would not matter how much I spent on a shirt. I bought all those cheap spandex pants that ended up getting ruined. Those cheap ass $10 spandex pants I bought at Wal-Mart before I left Fort Hood, they shredded while I was running because they probably turn the machines up to mega-agitation. So then I went a spent a few extra dollars on more expensive spandex shorts and those gave me some kind of weird ass lesion on my ass.
SIDE NOTE: I know you’re like…. what the fuck? Seriously, I bought these other spandex shorts that chafed badly but at first I didn’t put two and two together. I bought the shorts, went running, took a shower and the next day my ass hurt, but I could not figure out why. It’s TMI, but I don’t give a shit. What does a person do in these situations? There is no privacy here, even in the bathrooms. There aren’t any mirrors low enough so I could see what was going on and it’s not like I can ask anybody without them looking at me like some skank. Yeah, I could go to sick call, but can you imagine how that would turn out? First you have to go to the Company and get a sick slip and you have to tell the people there what the problem is. So I tell the 1SG I have unidentified marks on my ass, there is going to be some embarrassing looks and bizarre questions. And then what? Go to the TMC so some PFC can look at my ass? No thanks. And you know how rumours get started. I can totally do without that in my life, so for like three weeks I was completely mystified until I was doing inventory at the laundry. When I pulled the spandex shorts out of the laundry bag, I saw that the stitching is right on the ass crack. WHO DOES THAT!?!?! Cheap shit. END OF SIDE NOTE.
I have probably given you far more information than you require but at this point I really do not care. I just want my t-shirt back. The guy said to give him five days. Five days for what? So you can write to Taiwan for a cheap imitation? No thanks. If this dude don’t have my shit back in five days I’m punching him in the face.