Shoes Life
I was buying shoes yesterday in London and this guy walks in. He’s smartly dressed and it’s a fancy shoe store - Paul Smith. I don’t know what I’m doing in there, because I quickly realise everything’s too expensive, but I look at a few things and decide it’s cooler to pout shoeward in consideration rather that balk at the prices.
It’s clear to the sales assistant that I’m not going to by anything and she politely smiles while I take an interest at the shoes closest to the door and my way out.
Before I get to the door, this guy walks in and sees the sales assistant. He’s confident and collected and he’s in control. He walks right up to her, points at his feet and says, “Hi, I’m looking for something like these, but lighter and with a leather sole. Is Doug in today?”
See, if I were in his shoes (thanks), I’d say “I’d like some shoes please,” and then wait for an answer. Not that I can’t talk to people. I can, I’m just not great. I have the English thing of feeling like I’m intruding. Like - “excuse me, once I buy these, I promise I’ll be out of your way”. But if conversation skills were Eurovision, I’d be Cyprus.
(Example: when we came home from the hospital after my son was born, we introduced him to our neighbours of four years. We proudly announced his name to them. “Aw, how sweet,” they said, “because that’s your name, isn’t it?” It wasn’t. “Oh. Right,” they said. “He’s got his mother’s eyes.”)
The sales assistant says: “Doug just came in. I’ll go and get him. Steve, isn’t it?”
“That’s right,” he says and he takes a seat and I walk out, thinking.
Now. You’ve got to be buying a lot of shoes for the people at the shoe store to know your name. I didn’t count how many feet this guy had, but this place seemed like a second home to him. Maybe he’s on some lease agreement - you know, he trades in his old pair for new ones to keep the mileage down and offset the depreciation you get when you buy shoes at sticker price.
Maybe he’s seeing Doug.
Maybe he’s broken up with Doug and he’s using the sales assistant to get him back. The sales assistant, of course, knows all about it. She’s had a crush on Doug for years and to her it seems just a little too convenient that his ex happens to need shoes just as he’s walking by the place where Doug works. The shoe-buying ex knows Doug has a thing for brunettes and this Saturday sales assistant is just his type. So every week since they broke up four months ago, the ex casually walks in and buys a pair of shoes, hoping to drive a wedge between Doug and the girl and maybe find his was back into his ex-lover’s life. Plus he gets a new pair of shoes every week, so he’s thinking why not?