It started as a joke.
Just something that I'd say.
"Those are my Quittin' Jeans.
I'll wear 'em to work One Day."
The first week at a new job,
they give you some useful things.
I got five uniform shirts
and five pairs of jeans.
We can wash mine at home.
Save the weekly fee.
Terri can do it. She won't mind.
And I took 'em to 203.
One stood out and was different.
Those jeans were a brand new pair.
They were stiff with starch, perfectly blue,
and, unlike the others, had seen no wear.
So next to the wall in our closet
the new jeans patiently wait.
On their original Cintas hanger,
that pair still looks great.
Now, each morning before the sun is up,
As I get dressed for the day,
My Quittin' Jeans quietly nod, "Hello."
And send me on my way.
Nine years and four bosses later,
Lots of changes here, it seems.
Each day is a day closer,
To wearin' those Quittin' Jeans.
That, "One Day," I mentioned earlier,
is closer than it's ever been.
I'll show up in my Quittin' Jeans
and turn a notice in.
10-16-2025