A Good Sir Story

At one of my old jobs, someone had left a poorly-worded note in the break room: “coat doesn’t fit. trade?” I wrote this out and taped it up next to it. I almost considered getting it written it up in calligraphy, but I’m not that big of a jerk.

Gentlemen of the XX Floor,

Is your overcoat ill-fitting? Mine is—on my person it protrudes here and billows there, such that it suggests a wearer suffering consumption, cholera, or general malnourishment. I assure you I am quite healthy and of good humours. The family physician, one Wilfred P. F. Dunmore, can provide notarized documentation in support of this claim, if the reader so desires.

If your overcoat conforms in the opposite manner—that is, does not provide enough length of sleeve to hide the lower wrists, or makes wearing your favored waist-coat or monocle-pouch chaffing and uncomfortable—perhaps we could enter into an informal agreement for an even trade of goods, regardless of current market value?

Interested parties may come to call at my work-desk, or issue a company-approved note of correspondence forthwith.

Your Humble Servant,
[REDACTED]

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