The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes

Remember those shoes that I mentioned in this blog post? The comfortable ones with the really thick soles that I mentioned would likely last for a really long time?

Well, five months after I picked them up at the local mega-market, the in-soles wore out on me. Such sweet irony.

I suppose that it was probably something about me that did it. I walk around a lot -- enough, I assume, for the sweat to collect in my socks and leech into the padding at the inside bottom of my shoes. Around Tuesday, I imagined that something felt wrong whenever I so much as took a step. On Wednesday morning, the in-sole of my right shoe finally wrenched free of the glue binding just as I was on my way to work... and I was in constant discomfort for the rest of the day.

Having only had the shoes for a few months (and unwilling to give up the thick soles), I elected to get them repaired. There's a leatherworker near my office, you see, so I figured that it would be convenient to bring them to work in a paper bag, drop them off during lunchtime, and pick them up in time for the weekend. Hypothetically, a good glue job would have fixed everything.

Unfortunately, the only other wearable pair of shoes that I owned were a pair of ratty five-year-old rubber shoes. They were ancient, crumbling, and practically falling apart themselves, but they were at least vaguely serviceable. Besides, my only other option was to trot out my fine leather shoes (the ones I reserve for weddings, golden anniversaries, champagne wishes and caviar dreams) and scuff them about for an entire day. The former option was infinitely preferable.

My co-workers, however, thought otherwise. First, the shoes looked as though wild mongrels had dragged them out of the local landfill. Second, I was wearing standard office casual, which most definitely did not go well with shoes that had been dragged by wild mongrels out of the local landfill. Third, the office dress code apparently did not like rubber shoes, landfills or otherwise.

Needless to say, I had to do a bit of explaining by the time I managed to drop off my shoes at the local leatherworker. The woman at the counter was quite helpful, at least -- she noted that my in-soles were actually multiple layers of cloth and leather all stuck to each other, suggested that I get another layer stitched on to make them last longer, and charged me P300 for the whole mess. By that time, I wished that I had just gotten some new shoes.

Of course, there was one thing that could have made the day any worse, and that was the possibility that my rubber shoes would finally, inexorably fall apart and die. But they saved me the embarrassment and decided to hold together for one more day, despite what more than a few readers may have possibly thought.

I still have to wear the ratty pair tomorrow, though, because I still have to pick up the repaired shoes sometime in the afternoon. I guess this means that I'll be sitting stationary for most of the day, hiding behind my desk lest the sight of my deteriorating footwear disgust anyone.

On the other hand, I did mention that I'd bend over backwards for good shoes. If this doesn't demonstrate that, then it's at least a good backache-inducer that'll keep me bedridden for weeks. Now if only that leatherworker would only do a good job...