Stilettos and scoring.
January 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
“Where is my mind?” – Where is my mind? – Pixies
As a younger gentleman I was over confident to say the least. Especially around the ages of 17 and 18 and especially around members of the opposite sex. While some were going through their “I can’t talk to girls” phase, I was taking advantage. I was in a shoe shop on Oxford Street in London when a girl asked me “Excuse me, do you have these in a size 9?” I span around to see a very pretty girl of around my age all on her own smiling shyly, that type of smile that makes life feel a little more interesting for the next few minutes. I paused for a moment and looked around the shop, should I break the news to this girl that I don’t actually work here? “I’m not sure madam, let me just check for you.” Heavens, I was not going to embarrass the girl by telling her I was not on the payroll.
I took the shoe from her hand, it was a strappy black stiletto with a heal of around 5 inches. I looked across over at the counter where the only two employees I had seen were deep in conversation. I ducked behind the curtain which lead the way to the storeroom was away to the left of the counter. I had to be fast and I had to be efficient. It was a relatively small room with tall book shelves staked with shoe boxes. I matched the symbol on the base of the heel to a group of boxes, they had a pair in nine. I was just about to push back the curtain again when I realised the length I had gone to impress this girl. I smiled quietly to myself and pushed the curtain back looking down, hoping that the staff’s conversation had not ended. A few metres away from the curtain I looked across at them, they were still blind to the fact I had even moved. I went over to the girl who had taken a seat on those strange backless chairs they have in high end shoe shops.
“That was quick.” I had been quick, maybe working in a shoe shop was my true calling. Anyway, I stood patently as she put them on, she got to her feet and stumbled into me, she was embarrassed but her confidence was clearly starting to rise. “So tell me, in your professional opinion, do these work on me?” She asked, I let the question hang in the air for a second. “Oh I don’t work here, but speaking with the tongue of an amateur, yes, they do.” There was a second when you could see her mind going through the steps I had taken to get the shoes with the new information she had. She smiled, but that sort of smile when someone says something that is completely insane but a little bit funny and charming. “So do you wanna get a drink?” I asked. Her answer was yes.
The moral of the story is confidence can get you anything and if you try hard enough you can fake it.