Screw You, Dave Mustaine! Men's Wearhouse RULES

Men’s Wearhouse is a utopian vision where life is simple and smooth and everything makes sense. At Men’s Wearhouse, a seemingly endless number of suits line the walls (if I had to throw out a guess, I’d say…4 billion?), sleek and serene, organized by color and size. Suits as far as the eye can see, unless your eye can see through walls, in which case the suits stop just before the parking lot to the south and Quizno’s to the west. You just go to a section and then everything in that section fits you—even if you are my 6’5″ boyfriend with his 6’4″ legs—and if it doesn’t quite fit perfectly, it doesn’t matter, because a magical elf comes out of the back and draws on you with chalk until it fits!

Shopping for women’s clothes is not like shopping at the Men’s Wearhouse. Women’s fashion is a dirty, sprawling jungle of self-loathing, tunics, inaccessible zippers, and fear. Women’s shopping is frustration. The variety and turnover is so massive and rapid that there can be no Women’s Wearhouse—no wise saleswoman bringing you the exact dress you’ve been envisioning, because that store would have to be as big as the entire earth. I was jealous at Men’s Wearhouse. I fell for it hard.

As soon as we walked in, the man helping us took one look at my boyfriend and was like, “Here.” And handed him the perfect suit. The man knew everything! The man brought us ties. The man brought us shirts. The man brought us socks. The man brought us $20 pocket squares (lol!). We played mix ‘n’ match and giggled and accessorized and (for me, at least) fashion was fun again. All the employees gathered around and tried to teach me, unsuccessfully, how to tie a bow tie (it’s a game of chance, right?). Then the elf came out and did the chalk thing. And THEN came the real magic.

The magic.

Of BOGO.

When it’s BOGO at Men’s Wearhouse, here’s what happens: You buy a suit. And then they just GIVE YOU ANOTHER SUIT. And then you get to accessorize all over again! Mix! Match! Pocket square! Lol! And life was simple and grain was yellow and there’s a bright golden haze on the meadow and my boyfriend’s pants covered his socks for the first time ever—TWICE. BECAUSE BOGO. It was seriously my easiest, least stressful, most satisfying shopping experience in recent memory.

So I’ve got your back, Men’s Wearhouse. Fuck Dave Mustaine. Right in the BOGO. He hates Mexicans, anyway, and thinks Barack Obama was born on a Kenyan space ship or whatever. Dude can go find his own pun-themed suit shop. A Groom with a View. Babes in Tie-Land. Belt-and-Hat Cummerbund’s (BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH JOKE).

Anyway, here is Dave Mustaine’s dumb letter:

“Droogies,

I know that not all of you have the kind of job that requires a suit, or wear a suit when you (if you) go to any kind of faith-based service, court date, wedding or funeral, but if you do…you are going to want to read this. You know me, I don’t complain much in writing, but I gotta get this off my chest.

A few days before Christmas I purchased a gift certificate from the Men’s Warehouse in Salt Lake City, Utah as a gift for our awesome tour manager Jim Carroccio. You know the Men’s Warehouse…the old geezer with the voice that sound like he has chain-smoked since he was a fetus; the one that espouses, “I absolutely guarantee you’re gonna like the way you look,” or some manure like that, right?

Well, I was talking to Jim today and wondering why he didn’t say anything (I think we all wonder sometimes when our loved ones or friends get gifts if they actually like them) and it turns out that they decided to hold my order, otherwise called by them as “pending,” and told no one. For almost 9 days now I have been waiting for delivery of this gift certificate, and I wouldn’t say anything because it IS the holidays, but these salesmen promised that they would GUARANTEE a two-day delivery of the certificate to Jim (it seems they throw this word GUARANTEE around quite a lot).

So, we called and asked what happened and they have no explanation whatsoever, they didn’t care, and when we asked if they were going to do anything to remedy this, they made no effort whatsoever for this mix-up…although they did promise me the same GUARANTEE that they gave me when I bought it; that is that they will send it “two-day delivery,” but I already was promised this. Maybe they mean 12 day delivery.

I really think that it sucks when people make false claims, that they don’t care to make good on a problem that is clearly their fault, and with all of the “ABSOLUTELY GUARANTEE IT” crap I just had to say something. We are all living in very tight financial times right now, and like I said, you may not wear a suit for your job or for an event or occasion, but if you do, I would strongly recommend you wear someone else’s suits. Go to Jos. A Bank instead. I for one, will never set foot in a Men’s Warehouse, even for shelter from a blizzard.

I absolutely GUARANTEE it.

Dave Mustaine”

Update: Dave Mustaine just died in a blizzard outside of Men’s Wearhouse.

Image by Jim Cooke.