Me: Actually I was looking for this pink gingham shirt in a size small, but I don't see any.
J. Crew Employee: Sorry about that man, I'll go check in the back.
[J. Crew Employee heads to the back storage room]
My Inner Monologue: "Man"! I'm "man"! Not "Sir" but "man"! I've still got it - I'm young, I'm hip! Maybe that old guy at the register is "Sir" but me, I'm "man." Who knows, maybe this J. Crew Employee'll want to go to a concert with me at Music Hall of Williamsburg?! No, no, we'll go to Glasslands - much younger! Much edgier!
J. Crew Employee's Inner Monologue: I can't believe corporate is making us call these fucking lame, aging yuppie customers "man." What, so they feel cool? Pathetic. "Man" hasn't even been cool since the '90s anyway. Honestly I should just quit this shit and focus on my music. Ugh, this herb is already wearing a red gingham shirt but nooooo he needs pink too "for the Hamptons."
[J. Crew Employee returns with a size small pink gingham shirt]
J. Crew Employee: Here you go, man.
Me: Thanks, man!