As a rule, I only ever buy shoes that I can run in.
Unlike the average girl, I own very few pairs of shoes. Six pairs, in fact. Included in this collection are a pair of fuck-me-boots, stiletto knee-high leather boots, and a pair of really delicate heels.
Oddly, the only pair of shoes that I don’t think I could run in are my most conservative ones – my work shoes. My work shoes are black leather pumps with low heels. They don’t sound so bad, but if I tried to run while wearing them my heels would just slip out. They already do that sometimes when I walk.
At the end of my shifts on my first three days on checkout, the soles of my shoes were covered in reduced stickers. See, my supermarket has a policy that whenever we process an item that has a reduced sticker on it, we have to peel it off before it can leave the store. What you do with the sticker is up to you. In the first week I madly ripped off sticker after sticker and dumped them on the ground. There is a small disposal unit at each checkout, but it takes too long to throw in each individual sticker as you peel it off. By the second week, however, I tired of my shoes looking like a two year old’s paper collage, so I started sticking the redundant stickers to one spot of my checkout instead, dumping the pile when I had time or whenever it had grown to the size of a tuberose.
I’ve been toying with the idea of getting flats. My work shoes often make me hobble a bit after I’ve worn them for four hours. The first week was the worst – I got pins and needles in my feet after I eased out of the heels and into a pair of thongs.
So far, I’ve noticed three people at my store who wear the same shoes. Flat, black, rounded toes, with a thin black line over the front end of the open part of the shoe. They’re probably super comfy, but they don’t look very pretty.
But who am I to talk? My shoes aren’t particularly gorgeous or practical. Standing behind a checkout, however, at least no one can see my feet.