The most interesting thing that happened to me today

A short black man, he chomped on his food with his mouth wide open, something I didn't think people did outside of seedy novels and B movies. He had laid his sandwich down as I walked into the drycleaners and approached the counter where a pair of jeans were laid out. I opened my plastic bag and showed him my pair of jeans. They needed, and still need, mending. My jeans frequently develop holes beneath the crotch area, a sign perhaps that my sitting is rather too manly and I ought to learn some modesty. He stared at the holes without saying a word and then looked up at me with a blank expression. I was impatient, saying to him, "I just need a patch on the inside and for you to sew it up please. Do you have some denim?" His expression didn't change much but he looked down at the jeans again. His response came slowly enough that I was all but stamping my feet, "I won't work on them unless you wash them." I was confused for a moment, thinking he meant to shank me for a drycleaning, but he rephrased when he saw my expression, "you gotta go wash them or I won't work on them. I don't do repairs if they're dirty." I got his meaning then, although I surveyed him skeptically. He didn't seem a creature of extreme hygienic prejudices. Nevertheless a man must set his own standards. I respected that. The dilemma lies in the fact that I usually feel the need to wash things when they come back from a tailor anyway. Washing my jeans before and after a repair seems unnecessary to me, not to mention it would reduce the alreaady short life span these new fangled denims have. I told him the man to have a nice day and as I left, he told me to bring them back clean on Friday. I glanced back at him, considering the likelihood that I even wanted him working on my pants. As I walked towards the laundromat where the lady would attempt to overcharge me for a load, I searched the neighbourhood for another drycleaner. Nada.