Ten years ago, I bought a pair of running shoes. Now let’s be clear, they haven’t seen a ton of running except for occasionally chasing a grandchild or two, or the ice cream truck, but I have trekked a lot of walking miles in them. I absolutely loved these shoes to the point of holes worn in the sides of them. I remember when I went shopping I felt super fancy going to the local Fleet Feet. You stand on gadgets, follow instructions to walk, and run if you want, and almost feel like Cinderella being fitted for the perfect shoe. Months ago, I decided I was ready to go to the ball of footwear again and get fitted for a new pair. It just seemed like a no brainer to return to the same store. Who doesn’t want to occasionally feel like a princess in their daily life? When I entered this fine establishment, I was greeted like Norm of the television show Cheers, “Hello! Good morning! Hi! Welcome in! Are you here for a shoe fitting?” I reply, blushing and resisting the urge to wave to everyone in sight with my very best royal wave-elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist, wrist, “ Why yes, yes I am”. Someone crunched down behind a counter sliding a shoe on another customer’s foot exclaimed, “Make sure you sign in at the kiosk.” So I did. And as I am signing in, I notice in my peripheral vision a couple older than myself were standing 10 or so feet away. The wife says very loudly to the husband, “Nobody told us to sign in. We didn’t know there was a sign in. And just LOOK AT HER signing in ahead of us!” After realizing I forgot to switch on my mind reading technology this morning and feeling like a bit of a criminal for following directions, I thought I’ll try and catch her eye. I’m flexible, I was taught how to share and respect my elders- they can go first. Several eye-catching attempts failed and the only time I caught her looking my way she had a face of contempt. She sized me up from head to toe. I had on my hole-ridden shoes, my black stretch pants and my t-shirt. Vanity reared up inside of me. I wanted to turn and let her see my shirt was from Hawaii. It’s Hawaii lady, don’t judge me. And then I remembered sage advice from a very old, classic movie line, “Frankly Scarlett, I could give a damn!” Rhett Butler cut straight to the heart of it. I thought why am I turning myself inside out trying to go overboard to show a kindness to someone who is being a turd nugget? That’s a brand new word the sales clerk taught me. I think I like it, and I’ll put it in the word filing cabinet- turd nugget. And now, I will go take a walk.
