Of Shoes and Salesmen

Yesterday's torture, I mean shopping, was fairly fruitful. I did my normal once around the women's department of a higher-end store, left with a vague sense of po' girl outrage that the only thing I saw that I liked was a pair of pants that cost $180.

There is no way in 47 hells I could/would pay $180 for a pair of pants! Not even if I won the lottery.

So I ambled on down to my favorite slightly-better-than-Target-or-Walmart-store and found two very nice pairs of pants and three very nice blouses for just slightly less than the pair of pants.

So there.

Then came the worst torture ever. Shoes. With a wisdom born of age (and pain), I forced myself to stay away from the Pick-and-Pay and other cheapo shoe stores. I marched my fat ass right back to higher-end store and plunged into the shoe department. I managed to dodge shoe salesman guy for a while, at least long enough for me to find a pair that I wanted to try on.

Okay. Here is the thing. I know it is wrong to complain about actually getting some customer service, and yes, I know poor shoe salesman guy is working on commission, but he was annoying the everliving snot out of me.

I pointed to a pair of shoes. I told him, "I would like to try these on in the black and the brown, size 8 1/2 and 9, please."

He brought me back something like ten boxes of shoes and started laying out all these shoes that he thought I might like to see. I politely watched as he took them all out and then tried on the two pairs I'd originally asked for. They were a bit tight in the 8 1/2 and he hadn't brought the size 9, so I asked if he could please bring me those. I said I really liked those two pairs and would purchase them if the size 9 fit better. (HINT HINT)

He came back with even more boxes of different shoes along with my size 9's. Now at that point, I started to get a little pissed off. Not because he was trying to increase his commission, I get that. But because somewhere, some-one told him that we women were powerless over our obsession with shoes and if he just kept bringing more of them, little ole me wouldn't have the will power to refuse an extra pair or three of shoes.

And I wanted to say something along the lines of, "Hey, dude, don't waste your time. I am not going to buy extra shoes, I hate and despise shoes. I'm only buying these because I don't want to embarrass my fellow by showing up to a fancy play opening wearing tennis shoes."

But why ruin his day?

On the other hand, the shoes were probably the most expensive I'd ever purchased, outside of a pair of screaming hot boots I had in my 20's, and they actually didn't hurt my feet while I was wearing them.

Thor sez: No shoes, no pain.