Three or four times a week I slither into the downtown YMCA for a swim. And every time I get anxious about crossing paths with my nemesis.
After scanning my card, I take a deep breath and turn the corner to the mens’ locker room. Without fail, I hear the chilling words . . .
“Hey man, let me get them shoes.”
I mean, he’s a nice guy, but I feel a tremendous burden to let him drop polish on my dogs. The problem is, I’m not really into getting my shoes shined in the first place, and frankly, I feel like I need to give him at least 5 bucks. And 5 bucks a day on top of my Y membership dues is no way to go through life!
So, for a while I resorted to saying things like, “I’ll get you next time,” or simply, “I’m good, man.” But my words were always greeted with a sad-shoe-shiner-face that I couldn’t get out of my head. Then one day I had an idea.
I gave him my sweetest black dress shoes, 5 bucks, and said, “Make these babies sparkle!”
He gave me a big toothy grin and said, “Aww, man… you know I’m gonna hook you up.”
And he did. Those shoes were almost too bright to put on. People were putting on shades when I walked by. That shine was wicked and the minute I got to my car I put them in my trunk.
Now, when I park in the garage, I change out of the shoes I’m wearing and put the shiny shoes on before I walk into the Y. Half the time they don’t even match my outfit, but I give him a big ass smile before he says, “Hey man, let me get those . . . ” His words trail off into the ether like he knows he can’t eclipse his best.
I’m sure he will eventually catch on, but for now I’m not dropping an extra fin every time I hit the pool. But, if he starts offering to clean dog hair off my socks, I would be forking it over like an addict at a black jack table.