ABOUT ME

About me: My husband Chuck, our six-year-old Junior, our three-year-old Everette and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Last time I checked, wearing hooker heels was not in my job description

When I got in this morning, my boss looked at my feet and asked, "What size shoe do you wear?" When I told her "seven and a half," she took off her shoes and handed them to me, then looked expectantly at my feet.

Apparently she needed to run an errand and her shoes were giving her blisters so she wanted to borrow mine for a few hours.

Ew, ew, and ew again.

There are certain things that skeeve me out; sharing shoes is one of them. Also on the list? Sharing straws, gum, and spoons (but oddly, not forks). The words "moist" and "washcloth." The sound of anything liquid poured into a cup, especially milk. Listening to someone sing in an intimate setting (I get embarrassed for them, even if they're doing well). And eating homemade baked goods at work functions (I can't get past the image of people in their bathrobes and curlers licking their fingers).

I did what I could to dissuade my boss—I claimed that my feet were sweaty, my shoes uncomfortable, my stumpy heels…stumpy—but she wouldn't hear it. She whipped out a bottle of Shower to Shower, sprinkled my shoes, and fled.

So there I was, stripped of my one-inch-heeled, Nine West, four seasons' old black shoes and upgraded to her five-inch-heeled, designer lacey strap-ons.

You know how you liked to walk around the house in your mom's (or dad's) shoes when you were a kid? How it made you feel kind of big and badass? That's kind of how I felt: abnormally taller, wobblier, and badder (after I got over the initial skeeve factor). The heels didn't exactly go with my outfit (I may live in Mulletville but I don't usually pair hooker heels with gray pants and a cardigan) but yah, I strutted around like a happy little rooster.

Then she came back. Barefoot.

"I thought my shoes were bad," she said.

She put my shoes on my desk and waited for me to hand over the goods, which I did, albeit reluctantly. My shoes looked kind of sad and forlorn after that. Kind of librarianish. Kind of ew.

But hey, I learned a valuable lesson today. If you want a raise from your boss, let her walk a mile in your shoes.

P.S. Thank you, Tina, at the Adventures of a Working Mom for my first ever blog award. As per the award's rules, I have some blogs I'd like to send the same nod to (they're damn funny):

Diapers and Wine

Football, Ballet, and Beer

Thoughts from the Toilet Bowl

Practically Wisdom

Check em out!

8 comments:

Jay said...

At the risk of sounding male, Sarah Palin has the "librarian thing" resurging right now.

Walk flat, walk proud.

;-)

Jay @ halftime lessons

Lisa N. said...

You know, there are probably a LOT of things goin on that are not in your job description!

Hysterical.

Meredith said...

It's easy to get comfortable with what we wear, especially when you pair that with the business of running a family. But it is nice to change it up a bit with something a bit edgy. Now don't you just wish you had the time to get dressed up with those tall heels and have your man take you out to a nice dinner and prance around with out a care in the world for just one night.

I think all working moms should put on a pair of "big girl" shoes every now and then.

Tina said...

That would have really grossed me out lol. I despise the word "moist" too.

Bev Sykes said...

boy I sure share your feeling about sharing shoes. My mother buys all her shoes at a second hand store. The thought of that gives me the willies!

Dto3 said...

The nerve. . .demand your footwear and then insinuate their malignance by sprinkling them with "Shower to Shower!" Now you'll have that "rain fresh" powder between your toes for months.

Thanks for the nomination. I'll be sure to offer you much praise!

Mekhismom said...

I cannot believe that she asked to borrow your shoes. That is wrong in so many ways. ARe you thinking about an upgrade now that you have experience the designer high heel side?

Practically Joe said...

I guess you're lucky she didn't break a bra clasp.
Was that funny? I don't know.)
Anyway ... thanks for the award. I will certainly write about my blogging achievement. It helps convince the wife it's time well spent in front of the computer and not beside her on the couch.