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How NOT to buy shoes....

Every year there's a stinkiest tennis shoe contest held in the USA.

I've been thinking that I should enter.

Well, maybe not the stinky division, but I could compete in the "rattiest" tennis shoe contest and I could be competitive.

Now, I must admit, I'm no connoisseur of recreational footwear, nor would I claim that moniker. I only own two pairs of shoes, one dress and the infamous tennies.

I'm not what you could call a clothes horse,or shoe horse, I guess.

So I received a gift certificate from family to get new shoes and ventured out on a footwear shopping adventure.

Now to some women, being in the market for a new pair of pumps may rival a chocolate covered truffle-a-thon, but for a man, or at least THIS man, shoe shopping ranks just below root canal and a skosche above dirty diaper duty.

So, off we go to the shoe-a-torium to peruse the available styles and colors. I must admit the entire experience was relatively painless. I found the shoes I wanted in minutes, tried them on and was ready to head out the door.

But here's where the disturbing part of the story begins.

The guy who's selling me the shoes begins a detailed examination of my old ratty tennis shoes. He held them up to the light like a gemologist determining the clarity of a diamond

To be honest, I feared he was about to bury his face between the laces and take in a big whiff of Michael tootsies, nothing I would wish on anyone.

Fortunately, that wasn't the case.

No, he seemed content to give the offensive tennie the once over like Inspector Clouseau.

Then; *gasp* to my horror he began to box up my old tennis shoes. Not being one that is learned in the etiquette of shoe shopping, I innocently and quickly blurted "hey, I want to keep those".

To which he replied "Yes sir I was boxing them so you could take them."

But I could tell by the amused, you're a moron, smirk on his face, and that of my Rebbecca, that my initial reaction to the possibility of losing an old ratty pair of tennis shoes to the waste bin of shoedom was perhaps a bit hasty.

So anyway, I have my new wonderful pair of walking shoes and have increased my footwear options to three, though I don't think I'm allowed anywhere in the old ones, unless it's behind a lawn mower.

Learn more about this author, Michael Stone.
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