Earlier this week I visited my favourite shoe store and bought new sandals. When I walked in, I saw right away that the middle-aged guy who'd served me a few times before wasn't there. In his place was a very pleasant young blonde, who was obliging and helpful. So, what was the difference?
I can say that the man was perhaps not so 'available' as the woman, but he did something I valued. That is, he'd open up the shoes for me to try. He'd unfasten the buckles, undo laces and so on. Both of them took the shoes out of the boxes. Or one shoe, anyhow.
Now that my fingers don't work so well any more, I kinda miss that kind of attention.
The old days came back to me, the days when there'd be a specially shaped stool the shop person would sit on. Your foot would be guided into the shoe, which lay on a kind of ramp. Then the buckles would be done up and you'd be ready to go. Stand up and admire your feet in the mirror. Or not. Decide if the size was right and if they felt okay. Or not.
Still, the blonde was sweet.
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