Practice today was brutal. Coach ran us into the ground because apparently winning against Detroit made us "cocky and sloppy." His words, not mine. My thighs are screaming. My shoulders feel like someone beat them with a baseball bat. I'm pretty sure I have a bruise on my ass from when Petrov checked me into the boards for no goddamn reason except that he thought it was funny.
All I wanted was to come home, eat something that resembled food, and tackle my first shelter assignment.
Santa hats. Easy, right? Festive. Simple. How hard could it possibly be?
Turns out: extremely fucking hard.
Because I'm an idiot who didn't consider one crucial detail—the hats need to fit over hockey helmets. And hockey helmets, in case anyone's wondering, are massive. We're not talking about your standard department store Santa hat situation here.
I've been Googling for three hours.
Three hours.
Every site I find either has hats that are too small, hats that are ugly as sin, or hats that look like they'll tear from just looking at them. And the ones that might actually work? Sold out. Every single one.
I'm about to throw my laptop across the room when I have what might be my only good idea of the night.
Custom made.
If I can't find them, I'll have someone make them.
I pull up Google again and search for Chicago tailoring forums, which leads me down a rabbit hole of Reddit threads and local community boards. Finally, I find a subreddit that looks promising:r/ChicagoCreatives.
I create an account faster than I've ever done anything in my life. Username:Need_Tailor_Chicago.
I type out a post, trying to sound like a normal person and not someone on the verge of a festive breakdown:
Does anyone know a good tailor in Chicago? I urgently need some items made. Paying an arm and a leg. Thanks!
I hit post and immediately start refreshing.
Nothing.
Refresh.
Nothing.
Refresh.
Still nothing, but now I'm wondering if I'm being too impatient and if there's some kind of Reddit etiquette I'm violating.
Finally, responses start trickling in.
The first one makes me want to scream:
You know it's almost Christmas, right?
No shit. That's literally why I'm here, you unhelpful asshole.
The next one's even better:
In December? Haha. Good luck.
I'm about to close my laptop and accept my fate as the guy who fumbled the easiest assignment when a new reply pops up:
I know a tailor, I'll ask.
Hope surges in my chest. This is it. This is my salvation. I'm already drafting a reply in my head, something grateful but not desperate, when the same person posts again:
