it's the shoes.
everyone is quick to point out how many shoes i have. and i do, technically, have eleven pairs of shoes-- or twelve if you count large furry bear slippers-- but i don't know if it counts when all but four pairs are chucks and the rest are either dress shoes or moccasins.
i am by no means a shoe-lover. in fact, i think i appreciate socks and belts quite a bit more than shoes.
and so thursday was my first day of work at the shoe store (despite my nonchalant interviews, i did get the job) and we all had to explain why we wanted the job. everyone said they love shoes-- what a perfect reason to work at a shoe store!
i don't love shoes. i wear shoes. i enjoy the way they make glass not stab my feet. but i don't love shoes. and so i told the group that i took the job because i don't know anything about shoes, but i do love new knowledge.
to be able to read people based on their shoes would be much more fun than being able to read them based on their camera or taste in alcohol.
but then came the talk about converse. canvas shoes are not shoes, really. they're at least not shoes that a shoe-lover would wear to work. my cleanest pair of converse were deemed to dirty for the work-place. if converse are worn at all, they must be pristine-- i'd need to buy a magic eraser.
it's a bit backwards, to me, because i absolutely hate what converse look like when they're new. if you want to talk about looking fashionable, converse are meant to be a little torn and weathered in the same way bbq ribs are meant to be messy. in fact, when i buy a new pair of chucks, i ask friends to stomp on them so they won't look so embarrassingly new. also because everyone could use a little aggressive outlet here and there.
but if i want to wear my converse i'll have to clean them up. because when they're dirty, they're not considered shoes.
so, you see? i have it in good word that my shoe collection consists of only three real shoes-- the loafers.
unfortunately, it means my shoe collection is about to grow in a direction i never expected. in order to go to work, i'll need to buy myself some real shoes. but, at least i work at a place where i can buy said shoes.
but i suppose none of that matters. i think if anyone is remotely curious about my whereabouts in the great game that is the world of employment, the type of new shoes i plan to buy may not be the most important piece of information i can offer.
here's the steak (or tempeh) and potatoes:
2. i'll be working 12 hours a week as a shoe-lover.
3. 15 pairs of shoes are stolen every day from the store. $181,000 a year.
4. i get a 30% discount which they watch very closely because 60% of that stolen $181,000 was done internally. in other words, don't ask me to hook you up unless you are a male with the same size feet as me or my little sister.
6. i'm going to anyway.
in the world of shoes, there are rules and nicknames like mis-mates, sister-shoes, cousin-shoes and probably a lot more that i simply haven't learned yet. when the economy is shot, people buy new shoes rather than new clothes because it makes their old clothes look new again and february is the least popular shoe-buying month because it's not close enough to spring, but too far from winter. enough people buy new shoes for easter that april is one of the second highest months of sale. october is the first. all women love shoes because weight has nothing to do with whether or not you can buy them-- everyone looks good in shoes.
if you show me your camera, i can tell you a surprising amount about your personality. and soon, your feet protectors will be just like that.
this is only what i learned thursday and when i'm done with this job i will know every single thing there is to know about shoes, shoe-buying, shoe-stealing, and the slave-labor behind shoe-making.
so git ready.
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