Stepping in a pile of dog sh*t and the death of brick and mortar shoe stores

The other day on my lunch break I stepped in a huge pile of dog shit. I limped around for a moment strategizing. Should I go back to work and wash my shoe in the bathroom sink? My work bathrooms aren't private so that would be too embarrassing I thought. I found a small patch of grass and tried the drag and dislodge approach. It wasn't working--grass was too dry and there was too much shit on my shoe.

Then I wandered over to Jefferson Street in front of the In 'n Out. Realized there were some nice pockets of water forming tiny lakes in the potholes close to the curb. So I dragged my foot through the tiny filthy puddles and then went to grab napkins from the In 'n Out to sop off the diluted feces from my shoe. Then I started feeling like an untouchable and imagined the throngs of German Wharf tourists were watching me. Looking down at my shoes, I realized my year-old Saucony's were expendable. There was a shoe store close by and I would go buy some new shoes.

So I enter the store (with my shoes still on!) and ask for a pair of 11 1/2 Sebago deckshoes. Didn't have my size. Next I ask for some of those ugly flimsy Tom's shoes that are so popular. No 11 1/2's again. Then some running shoes--Nikes and then Adidas--same result. So I walked out of the store without making a purchase and walked back to my sewer puddles. After 3 or 4 wadings, following each with vigorous napkin scrubbings, my shoe was damn near spotless.

I walked back to work and thought that if a shoe store can't close the deal with someone like me--someone at their most desperate and willingly spendthrift--then they have no chance. Book and record stores are closing first and next it will be the shoe stores.