It's a Berghaus, I Swear

Do you ever have one of those days where people just seem to annoy you? I do. In fact, I had one of those days just a few months ago. I had been planning a golfing holiday with a group of friends since the spring, and when the week finally arrived, I couldn't wait to grab the clubs and go. On the first day we met for a quick bite and then drove out to our favourite course on the coast. My choice of clothing was a pair of trousers and a striped polo shirt; normal dress for me during the summer. Yet I wasn't prepared for what awaited me.

 

We signed in at the clubhouse while the pro behind the counter commented on my shirt. After a brief few seconds of admiration, he asked me where I got it. I told him it was a Berghaus from a local store near my flat in London. He was surprised, assuming Berghaus only makes winter outdoor gear. I assured him I was telling him the truth, and off we went to the first tee. Along the way my friends joined the pro in refusing to believe that my shirt was what I claimed it to be.

 

Teeing off at the first hole, I knew my friends enjoyed giving me a hard time. But somewhere around the third or fourth hole, one of the grounds keepers approached us, and like his boss, inquired about my shirt. I told him the same thing I told the guy the clubhouse, which for some reason amazed him too.

 

By now I was beginning to wonder what everyone's problem was. It was just a polo shirt - no different than any other polo shirt I'd never bought, except that it came from a company known for winter jackets and rucksacks. I assured the grounds keeper I wasn't lying and watched him drive away. Then I started to wonder if my wardrobe was going to cause me to regret this holiday.

 

As we approached the final hole we walked past the practice green alive with golfers. Almost in unison, the group began to interrogate me about my shirt like a group of school girls questioning a new student. In exasperation I yelled at the top of my lungs, “It's a Berghaus, I swear!”

 

We finished the hole and headed inside for a beer; all the while I was hoping no one else would say a word to me. As we wandered down the hall and into the pub, I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in one of the mirrored walls. Suddenly I realized what all the fuss was about. My now-famous Berghaus shirt was inside out!