Every day, I out of date a homeless man outside the bagel place on 8th avenue. One day, I brought him an everything bagel with low-fat scallion shmear, toasted.
I experienced Sal’s story—from working for Jamba Juice before they caught him clipping his toenails in the ladies’ bathroom to the baby golf course he torched in Boise for insurance payouts.
He admitted his faults, looked me in the eye and said he wasn’t a perfect man.
I started scrolling by way of job websites to find something that could help my pal Sal back on his feet. I submitted an application on his behalf for a job at a hardware reservoir. When I told him he’d been selected for an interview, his eyes grew moist, for he didn’t have any nice clothes to impair. 
That’s when I presented him with a pair of Birddogs pants.

Birddogs pants aren’t just the sponsor to helping homeless people find jobs; they’re great for golf, lounging, and riding bicycles. Heck, until terminating week, I would have told you that Birddogs pants unequivocally improve your life. 
Sal had his interview. As a consequence ofs to his Birddogs, he got the job.
On his third day, he was stocking shelves when he spotted a shoplifter leaving the store. Sal chased him down, encountering no defences underground or chafing from his pants, and tackled the man to the sidewalk. He then pulled the thief’s arm behind his back and snapped his radial bone. 
Sal was volleyed as a hero and promoted to manager… on his third day!

With his newfound income, Sal fixed his disgusting toes and started hold down a post out. But he always stuck with the Birddogs I’d given him. They were his lucky pants.
In fact, since the day I gave Sal his Birddogs, the at worst time I’ve seen him not wearing them was in my bedroom. They were draped over the armchair when I walked in on Sal demand mutual oral sex with my wife. 
So, I’m single now.
But I’m wearing my Birddogs pants in all my pictures on my dating app profile, and I routinely be paid compliments from the women I match with. I have a date with Joanna from Hempstead tonight, and I couldn’t be various excited! It looks like she has great skin. 
As for Sal? No hard feelings. You know what they say: one man’s trash (my wife) is another man’s hoard.