Monday, March 09, 2020

Better than the Write Shoes

Maybe you can relate to my latest First Monday column.

Have you ever had the week from hell and it’s only Monday? That’s how I felt. I needed something to ease my nerves. My usual approach to restoring my equilibrium wasn’t an option. I’d already had so many baths that my fingers were permanently pruney. The next best calming tactic was cooking. There’s something about chopping, dicing, and simmering. But my husband headed me off. Please, not another pot of soup, he said. That only leaves shoe shopping, I told him. He tossed my purse over to me. I was surprised he preferred another pair of shoes in the closet to another pot of soup on the stove, but who was I to question it.

Truthfully, I needed to get out of the house. On the nicer weather days, I’d been holed up in my office, more commonly referred to as my nest. My work was now finished but I was nursing a headache that refused to stay away. And I’d been in pyjamas for days.

I dressed and climbed behind the wheel for the hour’s drive. It would clear my head, give me some fresh air, and a brand new pair of shoes.

I was already in a better frame of mind when I pulled up to the curb in front of my favourite store. It didn’t have the outcome I’d expected. The shoes I liked didn’t fit, and the ones that fit I didn’t like. Determined to stay upbeat, I remembered the chocolate shop just up the street. It’s fact that chocolate is

a mood lifter. Who’s to argue with science. I headed to the chocolate shop but slowed in front of a dress store. Something about their colourful window drew me inside. That was unusual since I detest clothes shopping.

When he heard I’d never been in his shop before he asked what brought me to town. I’m taking a mental health afternoon, I answered. Always one to tell it like it is I added that I needed a timeout. He responded with positive support that made me feel good.

He provided customer service that’s sadly lacking in retail today. Clearly, he was the owner. As he explained the various lines he carried, I mentioned that I had once owned a similar shop. My disclosure captured his interest.

Since he opened his store during the time I was retailing, we discovered many mutual acquaintances in the business and began reminiscing about the early days. It was like meeting up with an old school friend. We shared many of the same experiences from that time. I enjoyed our conversation and the laughs. It was the first time in many years that I’d spoken with someone from those trade days.

The timing was uncanny as my memoir about the retail boom of the 80s and 90s is soon to be released. When I paid for my purchase I wrote down my name and the title of my book. You’ll relate to so much of it, I told him.

When I left his store, I forgot all about the chocolates I’d looked forward to buying. I already had a smile on my face. During my drive home I realized how auspicious my afternoon had been. Social interaction is healing. My mental health had greatly improved and it didn’t take a pair of shoes, or chocolates.


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