The Secret’s Out, Again

I visited a shop today. I don’t think that’s an unusual thing to do. Now that I think of it, most of us probably visit at least three or four shops each day as we make my way through the week. Perhaps that’ll be a topic for another day. Especially now it dawns that we now have shops for shops. What else did you think confused.com was? Not a word about wholesalers.

This particular visit is worth commenting on as one of the staff noticed the size of my feet. Though to be precise, his exclamation is the noteworthy article, not his first noticing, which could easily have passed unnoticed and unblogged had he remained quiet. Furthermore what was remarked upon were my shoes, which as they accommodate my feet, are large. Let’s be clear. I have large feet. They’re not spectacular record breakers, but they are comfortably longer than a foot (a foot is about 30cm if you hail from the continent) each. The label under the tongue of my favourite pair of trainers (sneakers for those hailing from across the pond) reads in neat print: UK 17.5, US 18, EU 53 CM 36.

Those shoes are tight. I can’t wear them for more than an hour or two for fear of damaging my toes. This isn’t humour; it’s a series of facts. So, now you know. Don’t sympathise. It doesn’t affect me adversely. I sometimes miss ice-skating, skiing and walking down stairs with something more than just my heels but the good certainly outweighs the bad. There’s always something to talk about for one thing. I didn’t mind appearing on television either. But that’s certainly a tale for another time.

Being stopped sporadically by strangers is sometimes a perk and sometimes a burden. For example, a man approached me on a train recently. He had been looking for shoes in the size fifteen region for his nephew. He was nonplussed when he learned that fifteen is the last of the relatively popular sizes. It’s a matter of numbers. Clearly there are enough people looking for shoes up to a size fifteen to justify manufacturer’s efforts. From size sixteen and up it can be pretty lonely. That’s why my work shoes were made by Trickers of London. If you know who they are then you now feel for my parents who were forced to remortgage to support my shoe habit.

To return to topic, ie the shop assistant, he bluntly enquired. How the **** big are your feet? (His amazement apparently eliminating any sense of salesperson decorum that may have existed prior.) When I answered him, truthfully, he refused to believe me. “Nah, can’t be” are, I believe, the actual words the young man employed to express his concern about the veracity of my reply.

If you’re not going to believe people, I ask, what’s the point of asking questions? He insisted on comparing shoes, side by side, and observed again the cause of his original outburst. My shoes were bigger than his. When he began to invite his colleagues to join him I grew first bemused and then inpatient. Any pretence of salespersonship had departed. After a few more moments, so had I.

Word of the day:Boysenberry
-noun
1 – a blackberrylike fruit with a flavor similar to that of raspberries, developed by crossing various plants of the genus Rubus.