Somewhere in the Hanes factory there is a person or person(s) whose job involves scotch tape and underpants. Let's take a look at the probable procedure meeting that must have taken place:
VP#1: We've received complaints via email that our underwear are trying to escape from their packaging.
VP#2: That is a problem. No doubt.
VP#1: I'm open to any suggestions to ratify said problem.
VP#2: I don't have any. I'm just here for the bonuses and golf trips to the Bahamas.
VP#1: I understand. You may be excused.
VP#2: Thank you, sir. I do have the company jet idling.
Inspector#5: I have an idea.
VP#1: The committe will now hear ideas from Inspector #5.
Inspector#5: Thank you, sir. Well, we could start with selling the underwear in quantaties of ten per package...
VP#1: I'm picturing it. Keep going.
Inspector#5: And we could roll each one up placing them side by side so that the consumer can see each pair.
VP#1: This is gold. But what about their ability to escape? What is your solution?
Inspector#5: We could scotch tape each pair individually so that there is no chance of them making a break for it!
VP#1: GOOD! I like your enthusiasm #5!! Let's get a team on this, post haste. Get a memo out.
Executive Secretary: But won't taping them make it time consuming, not to mention frustrating for the busy parents? I mean, how long do you think it will be before a mother commits suicide over wrestling tape off of her children's newly purchased underwear? Aren't they already bogged down with opening DVD and CD packages? Those things are impossible.
VP#1: I can't even look at you. You're fired.
Or something like that. Because I spent a solid twenty minutes pulling tape off of my daughter's underpants just to put them in the drawer. And the tape kept splitting and shredding and I'd try to get it off my fingernail and then it'd get stuck on my finger until I finally burst into tears and jumped out the window.