This mystery, or rather story, begins a long time ago, in the college days. My mom had bought my dad some shoes which, in a way, addressed the latest fashion fad that was floating through Tennessee. As a result, my dad found himself face to face with Camouflage Crocs. I am told he responded by saying “these are the ugliest shoes I have ever seen.” Subsequently, my mom related this reaction to me, and proceeded by offering me such shoes (my mom was quite aware of my aloof personality). Nonetheless, I found myself hesitantly shoe-staring. After a short debate-in my head-I accepted. I made this momentous choice for three reasons; 1. They were, in fact, the ugliest shoes in the world, and I pondered that it would be quite an adventure to sport the ugliest existing shoes. 2. They were comfy. 3. I have trouble keeping my shoelaces tied.
As it turns out, within the realm of shoe choices, this was to be the best choice I’d ever made.
Fast forward, to my job across from college- -Wal-mart. There was a significant occasion in which a manager who had been haphazardly ordering me about for 6 months and I did not see along the same lines. I was called into personnel, and that manager, at one point, asked me three life-changing questions, “who are you?”, “what’s your name?”, and “do you work here?” As I was wearing a name badge at the time, resented these questions, and was required to wear a name badge around my neck 24/7, me and Wal-mart thus became sworn enemies. Simultaneously, my camouflaged crocs became a readymade weapon in my ever-growing Arsenal of War. These crocs, seemed to be able to ink by every written regulation and policy on shoes while maintaining the look that they definitely did not pass any regulation whatsoever, while they did, as ever, maintain a despairing look of infinince. I also prompted tactics like buying walkie-talkies along with my fellow employed recruits (only managers (who are important) were issued walkie-talkies). We adopted nerdy walkie-talkie nicknames and stayed one step ahead of the managers in our wartime activities. Well…that’s not entirely true; I mainly did it-because I wished to see the look on a manager’s face when they saw me giving orders on a walkie-talkie from within the ugliest shoes in the world while working the lowliest job at Wal-mart.
But let’s move past my childish war-games.... because The manager with golden teeth has offered me a package. He says, and I quote. “I’ve got a package, if you want it, meet me in the back of the parking lot.” The package would not be delivered for another week, which gave me and my recruits plenty of time to come up with theories and bets on what the package may be. Would this change the tide of the war?.....
The moment of truth came about, as promised, in the back of the parking lot behind a large truck. I stood momentarily speechless, as the man with golden teeth offered me a bag of several pairs of new balance shoes.
In fact, the man with golden teeth was a kindly and humble man, and he assumed, as did many in my public school days that I was quite poor, and that the back of parking lot would be a good place for my pride. My lack of ability to sufficiently cycle my wardrobe, my aloofness to stained and wrinkled clothes, my affinity for used clothes, and my state of war-time with Wal-mart must have certainly contributed to this perception. Additionally, I was informed, by a less kindly manager, that the managerS had decided that I could not wear my camouflaged crocs on wal-mart premises. I was incorrigibly ecstatic about this relation, as I deduced that the managers had actually spent time talking about my shoes. This was an applaudable sign of my move towards victory in what would be a long and arduous war.
Unfortunately, my used new balances were very nice, and so I resorted to using my croc weaponry at sporadic and unpredictable intervals. I later realized that-that day, Wal-mart was certainly saved from certain destruction by one kindly manager.
Wal-mart has since grown plump, and does not maintain an ever wary eye. Unbeknownst to them, except maybe in this blog, The East has armed me with a new and devastating weapon along with new strategies and philosophies. At a snowboarding resort deep in the mountains of South Korea I was freely awarded this new foot-seat of power. I was able to run at a speed at which only a minority could upon the most sophisticated of machinery. And thus, received this item for FREe.
(mine are not pink, otherwise accurate)
Disclaimer: This is a true story. However, it is certainly possible that Wal-mart is a good company, and certain that its’ employees, and managers, are very good people. Furthermore, my unjustified, spoiled, and youthful boredom in those days combined with my, then bitter, regard of the growing wealth gap, and consumerist wasteful lifestyles, were the only real tangible problems within this mystery.
