It started as a joke.
Just something 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 pair 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 pair of jeans was different.
Un-worn, and brand new,
Stiff with starch and perfectly blue.
The others were worn, and faded from use.
Against the wall in our closet
the new jeans patiently wait.
On the original hanger,
that pair still looks great.
Each morning before the sun rises,
While I get dressed for the day.
My Quittin' Jeans say, "Hello."
I smile and go on my way.
Nine years and four bosses later,
Lots of changes, it seems.
Each day a day closer,
To wearin' those Quittin' Jeans.
That, "One Day," I mentioned already,
is closer than it's ever been.
I'll show up in those Quittin' Jeans
and turn my notice in.