The white shirt

The white shirt was born in a factory in some nondescript place. It traveled all the way down the supply chain till it reached one of the millions of MBA students around the world. In this case, the student was from Fisher, and had bought this shirt in India. The student was an extremely lazy guy, and contemplated the most efficient way to iron it…. and realized there were a couple of tricks that he could employ depending on the dress code of the event he planned to attend.

If the dress code was business casual, it would be a suit without a tie, white shirt underneath. Now this made the poor white shirt to only show up as a stripe on the front, the rest being covered by the coat. So all that needed to be ironed was the collar and the front strip.

If the dress code was business professional, it made the job even simpler. The front would be covered with a tie, so only the collar needed to be ironed.

The white shirt felt bad. It had made this journey all the way from the cotton fields of China or India, and had been proud of itself for being the whitest thing on earth. And now, it was being covered from head to toe by this presumptuous suit which was almost always dark, and had no identity of its own. It felt bad that it was now being relegated to such a small role in the life of an MBA student.

The student thought about it for a while, and ironed only the collar. He wore the wrinkled shirt, suited up, and tied a pretty knot with the corporate noose – a tie. And suddenly, the wrinkled shirt was no longer visible! It was like magic! And so off he went to event.

However, the event was in another city, and he needed to take a flight. He checked in, took the boarding pass, and stood in line for the security check…… and froze. HE JUST REALIZED THAT HE HAD TO TAKE HIS COAT OFF!!!

The white shirt smiled at the young guy. They were now even.



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