Karbon Kounty Moos

Long, long, time ago - like when Lyndon B. Johnson was president - I went to buy myself a pair of shoes. I have no idea why, since I wore a lovely green and grey plaid uniform to school - with green uniform shoes. Yes, green. Anyhow, there were no Payless Shoe Stores then (thank goodness), but I had choices. Miles Shoes, Thom McAn, National Shoe Stores or the shoe department at half a dozen department stores. Keep in mind that I was raised in Queens. I was seven blocks from home, by myself, going to buy shoes. In those days, even twenty year old Miles Shoe salesmen wore shirts and ties. He had measured my feet and returned from the back of the store with boxes for me to try on. I mean the shoes, not the boxes. Even though my mother still claims that I probably should wear the boxes, since I have such wide feet… For the life of me, I can’t recall what kind of shoes I was trying on, but I remember the conversation as if it happened yesterday.

The pimply salesman, with his white shirt and narrow tie had my foot in his hand.

Salesman: Did you have a nosejob?

Me: What?!

Salesman: Did you have a nosejob?

Me: No! Why?

Salesman: Cause you have those dark circles under your eyes.

Me: I have allergies - the doctor said that’s why.

Salesman: It looks like you have blackeyes - like you had a nosejob.

Me: I’m eleven years old.

Salesman: You look older, and some girls get them for their birthday.

Me: If I had a nosejob, don’t you think I’d have gotten a better one than this?

I do remember leaving the store without any new shoes.

This entry was posted on Thursday, January 20th, 2005 at 1:56 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.