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| Why we had to go to Cobbler Bill's shoe store |
I wrote this story some time ago, when a friend who still lives in my hometown sent me the picture of the old Hayes shoe store. I just found it unpublished on my blog. It's a sweet story. I don't know why I forgot to publish it. Better late than never.
Yesterday, my spouse dragged me to the shoe store. The picture above is a picture of the only pair of shoes I own. I had been putting off this trip for as long as possible. It's been almost forty years since I've been in a real shoe store. It started casually. I could pretty much find something to shove my feet into at discount stores until the age of thirty. Then I started ordering shoes online. Then there was only one brand I could find online that would fit my feet. Then there was only one style of that brand. The last pair I ordered was exactly the same as the pair you see in the picture, but even they didn't fit correctly anymore. I returned them to the online store unworn. Our money was never refunded and when I went to complain about that, I found that there was no longer a business to complain to. I knew I was in trouble. While Asha is understandingly indulgent of some of my quirks, she wasn't going to put up with my ordering shoes and losing two hundred dollars at a whack. I had to go. Fortunately we have a shoe store in our area specializing in problem feet. My feet, bless them, have just about every difficulty known to man.
Yesterday, my spouse dragged me to the shoe store. The picture above is a picture of the only pair of shoes I own. I had been putting off this trip for as long as possible. It's been almost forty years since I've been in a real shoe store. It started casually. I could pretty much find something to shove my feet into at discount stores until the age of thirty. Then I started ordering shoes online. Then there was only one brand I could find online that would fit my feet. Then there was only one style of that brand. The last pair I ordered was exactly the same as the pair you see in the picture, but even they didn't fit correctly anymore. I returned them to the online store unworn. Our money was never refunded and when I went to complain about that, I found that there was no longer a business to complain to. I knew I was in trouble. While Asha is understandingly indulgent of some of my quirks, she wasn't going to put up with my ordering shoes and losing two hundred dollars at a whack. I had to go. Fortunately we have a shoe store in our area specializing in problem feet. My feet, bless them, have just about every difficulty known to man.
Ironically, I knew that if I went to a proper shoe store I'd never be able to just walk out of there with a new pair of shoes. They know too much. I remembered that from Mr. Hayes.
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| The site of the old Hayes shoe store in West Concord MA |
