Shoes and Jesus

So how's it going?

Sorry? I didn't quite catch that.

Well if you're going to be unco-operative perhaps you'll let me make a point or two here.

Shoes

Everybody should have at least one pair of uncomfortable shoes. Also, service is worth something. This I have decided as a result of my experience a couple of days ago.

My local cheap-mart was offering a really good deal: Buy one pair of trainers (not just knockoff brands but Wilsons, Spalding, etc.) and get the second half-price. Since the original price for these is around $30.00, it translates to two pairs of reasonable-quality shoes for a mere $22.50 each. Okay, no problem.

Problem: When I went to the store, no-one ever approached to ask "Can I help you, sir?" or even "Helpya?" On one of the four occasions when I visited, I met a. . .a. . .what exactly? A serviceperson? She listened politely while I asked if I could get my feet measured, and she responded by handing me the gadget with which to do this, then went on her way.

I have slightly odd feet. Nothing unusual but I take an 11-to-11-and-a-half "E" width. So fit is important to me. After this encounter, I went home. That store lost $45 that day. Perhaps not sufficient in the greater scheme of things to drive them to bankruptcy--but am I the only one?

A day or two later, on my way to meet my Mum downtown, I found myself having to wear my hurtin' shoes. While downtown I stopped in at this favoured retail chain. At nine-thirty AM the only shop assistant in the entire shoe department stopped getting ready to open the store to come help me find a pair of shoes. She measured my feet and not only found me two pairs in different styles that fit, but that were on sale. The bill still came to $80-odd, but well worth it.

The lesson is, I suppose, that I don't insist on being waited on hand and foot (not that I don't appreciate that too) but if you treat me as though I weren't there, then I won't be.

Today is Easter.

So here are some Jesus boots. This ties back into the shoe thing:

Subsequent to my shoe-purchasing adventure I went to the S.O.'s house. There I had only a pair of sneakers. This left me in a quandary. As a semi-partially-sorta-Catholic, on occasion, Easter is one of those days when I feel compelled to find a church.

But due to bad planning, I had at the S.O.'s only two types of clothing: The jeans-and-cheap-(cheap,cheap, cheap)-shirt combo I'd helped paint the place in, and a suit I'd worn to an event a few nights prior.

So I had a choice:
1) Attend wearing paint clothes and sneaks

2) Attend church in suit with sneaks

3) Flush the guilt from my mind and realize that if God had wanted me in church he'd have A) woken me up earlier and B) made certain I had appropriate clothing handy.

So as it is, I'm swilling coffee and blogging in a desperate attempt to avoid being dragooned into helping the S.O. re-organize the library.

Perhaps I should have gone to church. . .

This is kinda interesting.

An interestingly visual blog.