I’m not sure “dilemma” is the right word, exactly, because “dilemma” implies something more serious than this, so maybe it’s more of a conundrum. Or a pickle. Yes, probably a pickle, for obvious reasons to be explained below. But whatever you call it, it sparked a brief conversation with the couple I was dining with in Philadelphia this past Friday night.
Here it is:
Do you tell a front of house guy/manager at a restaurant that his fly is down? And not just like, part way down. I’m talking ALL the way down.
I was in Philly for a work conference and went to dinner with old friends who live there. The wife in the couple works in the food and beverage industry, and happened to know some of the people at the restaurant through her professional contacts. One of them came over to chat with us, and since we were sitting down and he was standing up, our eyeballs were exactly even with the wide-open fly of his designer jeans.
I tried to look at his eyes and concentrate on small talk, but I was extremely distracted. All I could think about is whether I should say something, because I knew: (a) this was not an intentional look; (b) he would want to know; and (c) he would also be mortified at this information.
So somehere between (b) and (c) lies the pickle, so to speak.
Because this isn’t some drunk slob at Fenway Park who doesn’t give a fuck if his dick is threatening to jump out of his pants. This is a very fit, well-dressed 30-something millennial with Good Hair™️, fancy jeans, and a crisp dress shirt who is at work and clearly cares about his appearance and probably wants the zipper of his pants to win a fight with the business end of gravity.
In the end I decided to take the opposite of the NYC Subway mantra of “see something, say something,” and just said nothing. The guy in the couple I was with said he might tap him on the shoulder in a sort of “dude-to-dude” way later to let him know, but I think we drank a bunch and it never ended up happening.
I still feel a little sorry for the subject of this pickle.