My Underwear

Every day at work, I stand in front of a register by a huge roll-up door. It's about fifty degrees, and gets pretty windy sometimes. I wear a tanktop, a thermal shirt, a larger thermal shirt, and then a sweatshirt over all that. I wear two pairs of socks. I wear a scarf, and really dorky gloves with pockets, so that my fingers can come out and count change. People laugh at me because I look like the little boys off of The Christmas Story, where they fall on the ground and can't get up. I freeze. I whine a lot that I'm cold. Because I'm pretty fucking cold.
I was talking to one of my customers about thermal longjohns. I expressed interest in buying a pair, since it was so damn cold. He was some nice guy, around 40 years old maybe. We chat about how fucking cold it is. He leaves.
About 30 minutes later, he comes back and hands me a plastic package and says "Merry Christmas!"
They were longjohns.
So I told everybody that a customer bought me underwear. That way beats the guy who bought me a diet Coke one day. Way.