"Do you want my pants?"
I have been at my current job for just under two years. At some point in my first year (sadly, I cannot remember when) a coworker called me and said he needed to speak with me about something. Seeing as how he works in Housing and I work in Student Involvement, I was perplexed. Tuan deals almost exclusively in the operations and housing side of the house and most of my interactions were with the staff who directly interacted with students.
So one day I make my way over to Tuan's office for another item and casually bring up the fact that he wanted to speak with me about something. He said he couldn't talk about it at the moment, but later (when both our supervisors left the room) he sprung it on me.
I had been at this job less than 12 months at this time. My job prior was at a place where no good conversations ever happened in private. Even though I barely knew this man, I was nervous.
My fears were woefully inaccurate.
Tuan goes off on a tale, talking about how he went to get pants shortened and taken in, but the tailors had made them too short. Rather than trash the pants, he wanted to offer them to me, as a member of the Short Svelte Brotherhood.
I smiled, then chuckled, then basically laughed in his face and told him sure. I was so prepared for something terrible that something as benign and hilarious as pants never entered my mind.
It is nigh impossible for me to find pants that fit. I am 5'4" and weight maybe 120 pounds soaking wet. It most cuts, I am a 27x27, and most pants do not come in sizes below 28, so I have to jump on anything that resembles "fitting." This has led to some awkward choices, and much consternation from the Significant Other.
A few weeks later Tuan brought over a bag with two pairs of Banana Republic khakis, which have sat in my desk ever since.
Until today. The brief downpour this morning soaked the pants I had decided to wear. Rather than trudge through the morning in wet, mud-flecked garb, I decided to finally put on Tuan's pants.
And they fit wonderfully.