New boots from Stiff City
Jan. 28th, 2006 05:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gordonzolaI had to get new boots last week so I went off to my favorite boot store. It’s a grumbly place to strangers but welcoming to longtime shoppers. I’m proud to have earned my way into a friendly greeting at the door. It’s down in a mall in Stiff City. I only went there the first time because I was looking for a certain boot and no one in San Francisco had it in my extremely common size. It’s a bit of a trek but one I make because I like both the mom and popness of the store and the take-us-as-we-are-or-leave anti-mall store vibe.
Something was different when I entered. Where before it had always been, well, just mom and pop, now "mom" was behind the counter and two muscly 20-something guys were working the floor. And truly one seemed to be chosen because he was a hottie because when I asked for my boots in my size he said, "Well, we don’t have any 11s, how about a 12?"
But it wasn’t until I was making a purchase that I knew "pop" was gone. The slogan for the store, as long as I had shopped there, was "Shoes for the Working Man". Now the business card read "Shoes for Working People". Yes, 1970 had come to Colma!
Mom was ringing up the guy in front of me in line. He, half joking, said that because he was in two unions he should get a double discount. Mom disabused him of this notion very professionally and quickly, Then he said, "You know, people talk about the Jews being cheap, but they got nothing on us Irish." Mom said something non-committal, and he added "We need that extra money for drinking."
I’m still trying to figure out how I would respond to that statement if someone said it to me. Luckily, I wasn’t part of the conversation. "Hey your friends might be anti-Semitic, but at least you’re self-deprecating!"
Mom started ringing me up after cajoling me into buying the extra-support insoles I was going to buy anyway. "Always listen to your mother," she said. "You work in a grocery store right? Are you UFCW?" I had to admit that I wasn’t union and stopped trying to explain our worker co-op about 20 seconds in because her eyes started to glaze over. I did tell her that we didn’t accept scab deliveries though.
"Well, in that case… I have to charge you full price. But I’ll throw in a pack of socks."
"Seeya in a couple of years," I said, "Thanks."
Something was different when I entered. Where before it had always been, well, just mom and pop, now "mom" was behind the counter and two muscly 20-something guys were working the floor. And truly one seemed to be chosen because he was a hottie because when I asked for my boots in my size he said, "Well, we don’t have any 11s, how about a 12?"
But it wasn’t until I was making a purchase that I knew "pop" was gone. The slogan for the store, as long as I had shopped there, was "Shoes for the Working Man". Now the business card read "Shoes for Working People". Yes, 1970 had come to Colma!
Mom was ringing up the guy in front of me in line. He, half joking, said that because he was in two unions he should get a double discount. Mom disabused him of this notion very professionally and quickly, Then he said, "You know, people talk about the Jews being cheap, but they got nothing on us Irish." Mom said something non-committal, and he added "We need that extra money for drinking."
I’m still trying to figure out how I would respond to that statement if someone said it to me. Luckily, I wasn’t part of the conversation. "Hey your friends might be anti-Semitic, but at least you’re self-deprecating!"
Mom started ringing me up after cajoling me into buying the extra-support insoles I was going to buy anyway. "Always listen to your mother," she said. "You work in a grocery store right? Are you UFCW?" I had to admit that I wasn’t union and stopped trying to explain our worker co-op about 20 seconds in because her eyes started to glaze over. I did tell her that we didn’t accept scab deliveries though.
"Well, in that case… I have to charge you full price. But I’ll throw in a pack of socks."
"Seeya in a couple of years," I said, "Thanks."
