MISFIT
Shopping
I
have always bought the shoes I wear myself from myself. In other words I take a pair out of stock, thus getting them wholesale. In theory this saves time and money and makes me a walking advertisement for my own products. In reality I
invariably select a bad seller, telling myself that I have reduced my mistakes by one pair. The result is that that I tend to be ill-shod. It is, I suppose, the adult version of the old saying that the cobbler’s children go barefoot. I have to confess that being of an economical turn of mind, I
tend to wear shoes long after their sell-by date. This prompted Mrs. Misfit to insist that I get a new pair and buy it from someone else. She further instructed me not to consider the price in making my selection. So I set off on a shopping expedition. I had a clear
When it arrived I couldn’t get my foot into it, so I asked him if I
could borrow a shoe horn. It appeared that this was not a common requirement but, somewhat grudgingly, he hunted one down. By way of insult it had a large anti-theft device attached to it. Are their profit margins so slight that they can’t afford to let the customers to nick the occasional shoe horn? Does “customer” equal “thief” in their eyes? In this connection I should mention that Misfit Shoes encourages the customers to take our shoe horns away because, with our name on them, we see them as a cheap advertising medium..
idea in mind of the classic style I wanted to buy, and looked forward with pleasurable anticipation to the experience of being the customer and being always right for a change. I was in for a rude shock. At my first port of call, to the chain that specialises in the article I had in mind, I was pleased to see that I was the only customer, which meant, I thought in my naivety, that I would be seen to right away. I could not have been more wrong. The three staff were busy talking amongst themselves and ignored me. I went over to the display of the shoe I had in mind to compare
I asked if the shop possessed such a thing as a size stick. “Oh, yes,” he replied, “but it’s not accurate.” This from a salesman working for a firm who pride themselves, or used to, on their ability to fit feet.
the various colours on offer, and finally settled, as Mrs M. had predicted, on black. I took the display sample and sat down. At this point the staff realised they had a customer, broke off their debate, and one came over and asked if I was all right. I assured him I was in the best of health and asked if they had a pair to fit me.
“What size do you take?” he enquired. I told him I was not sure,
so he asked to inspect the shoes I was wearing. My shoes being so old that the size marking was long gone, this was no help. Once again he asked if I had any idea what my size was. By this time my dander was up, so I asked if the shop possessed such a thing as a size stick. “Oh, yes,” he replied, “but it’s not accurate.” This from a salesman working for a firm who pride themselves, or used to, on their ability to fit feet. He went away and returned with the sophisticated measuring
device that used to be the hallmark of the chain, and I put my foot in it. He asked me to do something which was drowned out by the staff debate going on a few feet from my left ear. He repeated his request loudly, by now convinced he had an odd client who was a bit deaf. I got the message I should push my foot back into the heel of the device. I pointed out I had already done so. Having got that sorted he proceeded to measure the length of
my foot, ignoring the width measurement integral to the device, told me what he thought my size was, and went off to get a pair for me to try on.
10 • FOOTWEAR TODAY
• MAY 2010
I still had a problem getting the shoe on, so he suggested I might need half a size larger. Off he so toddled to get another pair, leaving me alone with the first pair, which I could have easily picked up and walked out with. He then compounded the error by producing the larger pair and disappeared, I know not where, leaving me alone with two pairs so now I not merely had the chance to purloin both pairs but could have mixed them up leaving them with odd sizes. By this time I was making notes for this article, something which I don’t think he noticed. I was still having trouble getting my foot into the shoe. He
accused me of wearing thick socks, something for which I did not feel inclined to apologise. The real problem was that the uppers were a unlined loose suede split, not dressed in any way; surprising bearing in mind the price, which was not cheap. At last I got the shoe on. I took a couple steps and found I could
feel the front of the heel hitting the arch of my foot. There was something wrong with the way the shoes were made. They were also tight across my instep, which I confess is high. Sorry about that.
Our super-salesman then told me that the leather would stretch. I
agreed with him but felt it would be more pleasant if it did so over a last than over my foot, took the shoes off and left. I went away rejoicing in the incompetence of our competitor, but
still wearing the old wrecks that Mrs. M. had commanded me to replace. What to do? Eventually I worked out the answer. I have bought a line of a similar but better made shoe, taken a pair for myself, and put the rest into stock, where they are selling nicely. There must be a moral in this somewhere.
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