Famous Footwear. Rack Room Shoes. This was my Tuesday night. What a nightmare.
Don’t get me wrong. I really like shopping with my wife, for my wife. I take much joy, probably too much really, in finding THAT pair of shoes, the ones that will go on to be referred to fondly in stories years later. It’s a source of silly pride, but hey, that’s what a stellar husband does, right?
I wasn’t allowed to have that experience tonight. The children were with us, and while they are pleasant, generally, they insist on trying on EVERY SINGLE PAIR OF SHOES in EVERY SINGLE SECTION. Stiletto heels, leopard skin sandals, Timberlands, knee high rain boots, flip flops, baby shoes – they don’t discriminate.
Because I don’t want to be THAT A-HOLE who lets their kids run wild AND leaves the damage for the poor, underpaid, overwhelmed store clerk to make sense of, I’m in a constant state of panic that I won’t be able to find the match to the size 2 purple jelly baby sandal that was, just a minute ago, on display before finding it’s way into the men’s sneaker aisle. And where in the hell did that hot pink, blinking boot come from?
I’ve never had a nervous breakdown, but I think I’ve walked it’s long, dark hallway. Or in this case, it’s artificially-lit aisles.
When the children finally did slow down, things didn’t improve too much. The Mrs. is a size 8 which is, I’ve discovered over the years, the most in-demand size. If I have realized this, I wonder, why haven’t shoe stores? The clearance racks were once again overflowing with 6’s, 7’s and 9’s. Do women with feet those sizes not buy as many shoes as the 8’s? Is that why my wife insists on buying so many pairs every year? Is it simply out of her control because of her foot size?
I found so many kick-ass pairs of 9’s that I asked the Mrs. if foot-stretching was on her radar. Turns out, she doesn’t want to trade a little pain for a pile of on-sale footwear. Sissy.
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