Our son is getting married in July. Which explains why yesterday my wife took me shopping for 'good' dress shoes to wear to his wedding. Actually, it doesn't as I'm pretty sure there's no connection between the two but it made no difference as shoe shopping we went. I'm assuming there will also and eventually be trousers, a shirt, a tie, and a jacket to go with the shoes. Large fun awaits, I suspect.
When I was a kid, someone in the shoe store said hello when you entered, followed you to wherever in the store you walked, sat you down, measured your foot (I remember one foot was always larger than the other but have long since lost track as to which it is) using that doo-hickey that has an actual name I never can remember, and then brought you shoes in the style you desired.
I haven't been anywhere in years to buy shoes where any of that happens anymore. And yesterday I got to endure two different clerks demonstrate how they knew less about how to work that foot-measuring doo-hickey than even I do.
Meanwhile I watched a guy enter the store after we did. He walked to the sneakers section (fuck 'athletic shoes' they're sneakers) stare at three different kinds, NEVER putting any of them on, grabbing a box and walking to the register to buy them and then leave. I really hate people like that. .
Meanwhile, back at my size seven feet. "Have you always worn a size seven shoe?" asked one of the clerks in a tone of voice that sounded suspiciously condescending and amused simultaneously. I was tempted to react with feigned shock and alarm exclaiming 'What? I wear a size 11 TripleD! What have you done to my feet?!?" just to rattle all the other bozos in the store but there weren't enough folks to make it worth my while.
I ended up with black slip-ons that sort of look like the last pair of black slip-ons I had and hated to wear, and which match a pair of brown slip-ons that, judging from the soles, I never wore outside anywhere on earth. Yep, I'm on my way with my best foot forward and grateful I'm not a centipede or I'd still be there.
-bill kenny
Ramblings of a badly aged Baby Boomer who went from Rebel Without a Cause to Bozo Without a Clue in, seemingly, the same afternoon.
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