Me: “Huge apologies, but we don’t have the shoe you’re after in our stockroom today. I have checked online and we can order it for you into the store or to home, or I can call a nearby store for you and find out if they have it.”

Customer: “You don’t have the shoe?”

Me: “No, I’m afraid n—”

Customer: “And you can’t order it?”

Me: “Yes, we can, to—”

Customer: “I don’t have time to wait for that. Can you call another store?”

Me: “Yes, I could do that fo—”

Customer: “Actually, never mind; I’m going to go order it online.”

(I think customers run on one-track minds.)

(My mother takes my siblings and me out to dinner. Afterward, we decide to visit a nearby shoe store because both my sister and brother are in desperate need of new shoes. It should be noted that my sister doesn’t like to eat certain meats, like veal, or wear leather.)

Mom: “I think [Sister] should try on the shoes you got here last time, [My Name]. Do you know which ones they are?”

Me: “Yeah, they’re these.” *points to them*

Sister: *turns to associate* “Are they made of leather?”

Associate: “Yeah, most of our walking shoes are made of leather.”

Sister: *visibly disappointed* “Oh, I don’t want those, then. I can’t wear leather. I—”

Associate: “Oh, it’s okay! These are ‘young buck,’ so it’s like baby leather!”

(I am an assistant manager at a popular footwear store where customers pretty much find their own shoes unless they need help. My teammate this afternoon is a high-school-aged girl that has been employed longer than I have. A middle-aged gentleman has been in the sandal department for almost 30 minutes, trying on pair after pair of sandals. After checking in on him a couple of times, I decide to work on putting up a new display. Just when I start, the man gets my attention. He sounds both surprised and confused.)

Customer: “Well, I like these…”

Me: “Oh, you found a pair you liked?”

Customer: “Well, I mean I like these… but which one is men’s?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I didn’t realize that this aisle had men’s and women’s sandals in it.”

(I’m a little taken aback by his confusion, since most of the women’s sandals have rhinestones, excessive straps, and could be considered quite “feminine,” whilst the vast majority of the men’s sandals are made to look like the tires of a monster truck for soles, with cargo straps for uppers.)

Me: “Oh, sorry about the confusion. The sandals on the display behind you are the men’s sandals.”

Customer: “Well… I like these.” *he points to his foot, which has a traditional-looking brown sandal on it* “I just noticed that it says, ‘Women’s,’ on the box, but they’re the most comfortable I’ve tried on.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

Customer: “Can I still get them?”

Me: “Sure.”

Customer: “The only thing I noticed that might make them look like women’s shoes is the heel.”

(The heel in question is less than a quarter-inch high and is barely visible when he is standing, but my coworker comes by.)

Coworker: “Because those are women’s shoes.”

Customer: “But… you can’t tell unless you see the heel, see?” *points at the heel* “Otherwise, they look like regular sandals. Can I still get them?”

Me: “Yes.”

Coworker:*simultaneously* “No.”

Customer: *to me* “They’re really comfortable.”

Coworker: “They’re women’s shoes.”

Customer: *to me again* “You can barely see the heel.”

Coworker: “They’re women’s shoes!”

Me: “If they’re comfortable, and you are okay with the fact that they weren’t designed with men in mind, I say get ’em.”

Coworker: *pleadingly* “But they’re women’s shoes.”

(I give my coworker the “shh” sign and she looks at the man’s feet.)

Customer: “They’re really comfortable; none of the men’s sandals were comfortable at all. I think I’ll get them.”

Coworker: *almost sounding scared* “But they’re women’s shoes!”

(I look at my coworker angrily, and mouth to her to stop talking.)

Customer: “I’ll take them. I’ll wear them out.”

(I walked the man to the register as my coworker feebly muttered one last time about the sandals being women’s shoes. The man left happy, and my coworker didn’t talk to me for the rest of her shift. I found out the next day that my coworker was a member of a Christian denomination that has very clear views that men and women should never crossdress, which might have explained her reaction.)

Related:
If The Shoe Fits…, Part 7
If The Shoe Fits…, Part 6
If The Shoe Fits…, Part 5
If The Shoe Fits…, Part 4
If The Shoe Fits…, Part 3

This story is part of our International Women’s Day roundup!

Read the next International Women’s Day roundup story!

Read the International Women’s Day roundup!

(My grandma and my grandpa have taken my little brother and me out shoe shopping. My grandma only has one leg.)

Employee: “Hi there! Can I help you?”

Grandma: “Yes, I was wondering if I could get these half off?”

Employee: “Unless you have a coupon, no.”

(My grandma then pulls her pants up revealing her prosthetic leg.)

Grandma: “It’s just that I will only use one.”

Employee: “I am sorry; you still must buy both shoes.”

(They go back and forth for a few minutes before my six-year-old brother bursts in:)

Brother: “Just buy the shoe, Grandma, or Grandpa might shove it where the sun don’t shine!”

(I work in a small shoe shop with three different storeys to store the shoes. It is a very old building with a lot of stairs. A customer wants to try on a pair of shoes that is stored on the top floor. There are only two of us working.)

Me: *to my colleague* “You go get it; I went up last time.”

Colleague: “Why should I go and get it? You go.”

(We bicker for a moment, and I realise how this must look to the customer. I turn to address her.)

Me: “We’re sisters.”

Customer: “Ah, that makes sense.”