Went to Von Mauer yesterday to see about some shoes that you can just step into, without bending over, that you read and see a lot of lately. Clerk there said no, don't have any, but how about some nice loafers?
I said No. He said, Well, you should go to Scheel’s then...... Huh? That’s a hardware and sporting goods place headquartered in Fargo, I thought. And with the sort of world-view attitude that I don’t particularly appreciate, but whatever. I’ll take a look. Put politics aside, if the shoe fits, wear it.
Sorta like our dear helper, J, that I overheard as she combed out Katie’s hair the other day. Chatty, she opined that she really doesn’t like the politics and viewpoints espoused by those people at Chic-fila, “But their chicken is sooo good,” she said.
Yesterday, I got a delivery from Amazon (whose Bezos political blunders I have to overlook, in order to use their fantastic service). The delivery wasn’t even close to my requested order, so now I’ll have to bike it over to Kohl’s and return it. I mean, I ordered six plastic cereal bowls and got a prompt delivery of an Outdoor Digital Timer Box, of all things. After pledging on-line to their artificial intelligence that I would return the timer box intact, I got a promise of a future refund and the free cereal bowls, pronto.
Kohl’s Amazon return center is next door to Scheel’s, so I’ll bike by and let you know about their shoe department. It’s located next to the dead moose and wolf display, I think.
So many first-world problems.
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Update:
I pedaled down to Kohl’s, got my refund authorization, then slipped over to Scheel’s. This ain’t your father’s hardware store. The main floor is a clothing store, and the mega men’s shoe section is not located by the dead wolf display after all, it’s southeast of the Midway ferris wheel. Good thing I had an idea of what I wanted, as the hundreds, perhaps thousands of shoe choices quickly overwhelmed. Found a clerk, he directed to the non-athletic step-in choices and I picked one, size 13. He disappeared, then out the leather loafers came. Sure enough, stepped in to them while standing there, paid, then away we went, after I laboriously re-tied the sneakers I came to the dance with. Life changing? We shall see. That Von Mauer shoe department never had a chance.
Next week, we will tackle the jigs offered at Scheel’s second floor fishing fantasmagoria, for my upcoming Canadian convention of grumpy old publishers. Thousands of colorful weighted walleye jigs are just waiting there to be chosen by the experienced eye.
Certainly not mine.
