1983. 38 years old. Giving a basic data processing overview to 40 ladies from Customer Service. Three hours.
When I go back to my desk I was handed a note from one of the participants: “Your pants are split.”
Sure enough, from my belt to my crotch, butt hanging out. At least my underwear was clean.
I had something similar happen except I knew immediately when my pants split. I immediately sat down and phoned my wife. She brought a new pair of pants.
My secretary lent me her coat which I tied around my waist as I walked out to the hall to meet Ann.
Looking back on it, there was really nothing showing unless one looked and then only a slight white line where they split. I would have just walked out to meet Ann and go into the rest room to change.
Ann was a good seamstress and she let them out a little and I kept wearing them.