I saw a rumpled, paunchy, balding, middle-aged man in the company cafeteria. His fly’s zipper was down, and part of his shirttail was sticking out through the opening. He had probably just come from the restroom. At least I hoped he had just come from there and hadn’t been walking around in this state all morning.
Being a person who tends to grab the bull by the horns, so to speak, I sidled up to him in the line for the register and whispered, “Your zipper is down.”
He looked at me and then down at his fly. He promptly zipped himself up. Then he looked me up and down and said, rather snidely, “Thank you for noticing.”
I was speechless, but not for long. “Good thing your shirt was sticking out. If anything else had been, I’m sure I would have missed it.”
I turned before he could comment, but not before he could throw a hard roll at my head.