Having listened to Jim's bold claims that there wasn't a single outfit that wouldn't fit him, Jerry decided to play along with the sales pitch and made a bet: "Well, in that case," he spoke "I'll try one of your outfits, but if they don't fit, you'll let me pick one for free."
Without hesitation, the salesman shook his hand. "We've got a deal, then."
Playing it safe, Jerry figured there was no way the Boy Scout uniforms Jim laid out would fit him -- not a chance. All he had to do now was pick them up, try some of them on to state the obvious: they were all too small for a man his age. A perfect bet for a man, who, up until now, had nothing better to do aside from what seemed to be a sure bet.
The cellophane casings of the uniforms crinkled and shifted about in Jerry's arms as he moved them over to his fitting room, where he then placed them down on the floor. Now with the door shut behind him, Jerry scratched his head in the privacy of his fitting room -- it wasn't so much a struggle for finding the right fit and more about deciding which awfully undersized uniform he should put on to get this over with.
On a closer glance, he could see shipping tags with the names and ages of their prospective wearers: "Jason, 10", "Mark, 8", and "Caleb, 14" to name a few.