So here I am, at work, minding my own business. Helping customers, filling stock, working register, the usual. Anyway, as I'm walking I start to notice my pants are a little low. Not a problem, just have to adjust my belt.

That's when all hell breaks loose.

Yes, it was actually happening. My belt was falling apart. My beloved belt. The belt I've had for almost 7 years. The tongue of it fell out. Again, no big deal. I just stood around holding my pants up til I found some duct tape. Duct tape fixes everything, right?

Apparently duct tape doesnt fix belts. So I end up having to walk back to the fashion department, and look for a new belt.

Of course they are all really shitty belts. Almost all of them were made of pleather or somethin. Finally, I find a nice looking brown belt. A couple sizes too big, but hey, thats what belts are for right?

Wrong. The last holes were about two inches too far up the strap. So as I'm wearing it my pants are still falling down. I waited about a half hour, and then I just couldn't take it. I went to the backroom, grabbed the closest powerdrill, and starting drillin holes.

My manager comes in, obviously not happy that I'm wasting company time to drill holes in a belt. Apparently that doesn't fall into the category of emergency, which she promptly explained to me. Honestly, nothing sounds like more of an emergency than my damn pants fallin down. After a half hour lecture, I'm ready to wear my new belt.

Turns out this belt sucks. Feels like crap. I mean really, if I had never broken my first belt, I wouldn't have to deal with all this shit. "It's like getting a new pair of shoes," my manager told me, "you just have to break it in a little bit."

Well guess what, manager? I don't like getting new shoes either! As we're all leaving the store I happened to glance in the mirrror and notice for once that the belt was brown. My shoes are black. Goddamnit.

I hate change.

I really hate the laws of fashion.