Shopping Hell: Pumps or Heels?

I’m a terrible shopper…a great buyer mind you but a terrible shopper.  When I go to any store, I’m the guy on a B line through the store right to my target.  I can be in and out of HEB before most people can find a parking spot up close.   However my shopping capabilities increase exponentially if I’m in Academy Sports & Outdoors within 200’ of the guns, ammo, and fishing counter.  There I can spend some serious time.  I also tend to be a pretty good shopper at Cabela’s.   There I usually start off on a buying trip that morphs into a shopping spree spending lots of time and too much money.  And what trip to Cabela’s is complete without a stroll through the aquarium?

“Dad, I need shoes that go with my dress for graduation.”

“Aren’t they all covered up by the gown anyway? “ I naively ask.

Here comes the stare.

“And wait, didn’t you just get a pair of heels for that same dress?”  I further wade into shopping hell.

“Dad, those were pumps.”

“Why can’t you just wear those?”

“I need heels, Dad, that make a statement.” she stared.

“Didn’t you just get ‘heels’ for prom?” I say, feeling a spark of debate coming on.

“Dad, those were for the maroon dress.  This dress is teal.”  She says as if I am a complete idiot.

And as you can imagine, there is no way I can win this debate.   If I am the King of the stare down, Lindsey is the Queen.  However she is the winner-take-all of getting the last word.  In fact the last word usually ends with me in a trance nodding my head saying “yes princess, I will transfer money from my retirement savings to your checking account so you can have the shoes you can’t possibly walk across the graduation stage without…” Of course, she only graduates from High School once, so how can I possibly refuse?

How many pairs of shoes must one teenage girl own?  Shouldn’t there be an area in the store labeled “these shoes only work once therefore they are really inexpensive”?  The life expectancy for any given pair of heels is one engagement anyway…right?   Then they’ll sit in the dust-covered box in the darkest corner of the closet for two years.  After which they’ll end up at the Goodwill store selling for $3.99, originally $79.99.  What a deal.  “Only worn once” the tag reads.

Compare that to fishing rods.  How many pairs of shoes do you have that belonged to your grandfather?    Who would want his nasty stinking work boots anyway?  But fishing rods?  Now that’s art.  While a brand new Shimano may be what is attached to my favorite composite poppin’ rod, it’s the stack of old fiberglass and bamboo rods that sit front and center in the man-cave. 

How many women have their old shoes on display where they can sit with a beer and recall fond stories of that date with young Jeremy?

Old shoes get retired to Goodwill.  Old rods get retired to the man-cave.   So now when your buddies come over they can ooh and ahh over your collection and immediately a story of dad or grandpa comes out.  Eventually you’ll find yourself admiring an old tackle box full of retired lures and an antique rapala fillet knife.  So if you have a story to swap and want to sort through some old rods, come to the man-cave.

In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be at Kohl’s waiting while the wife finds that perfect dress for this occasion.  And I’ll be minding my manners.  “Yes Dear, that length is perfect for you.  Don’t you think a nice new pair of suede flats in a complementing color would be appropriate?”