Wingtip Repair

My first week of work at a full time post-college job concluded 19 years ago today.


August 1990

I reported to work, my first day on the job, in the pinstripe suit, a striking blue tie, my favorite, and new black leather wingtip shoes. By the end of the first day my feet were blistered and sore. So recent from college was I that the footwear to which I remained best accustomed were sandals and high-top basketball shoes. But being one who enjoyed personal milestones I cheerfully noted, at the end of day one, that this had been the longest I’d ever worn the wingtips, nearly ten hours including drive time to and from the office. Hopefully, the shoes would become more comfortable with each successive day, I thought to myself.

By noon on the fifth day my tender toes had had enough. Blisters were several, one had popped, and walking had become painful. At lunch I walked 200 yards to the neighboring enclosed shopping mall where I located a retail Florsheim shoe store. Having pleaded my case of too tightly bound feet, the shoe merchant gladly took the lightly worn dogs and placed them on the shoe stretching machine in the stock area. This machine, in those few minutes, became my favorite mechanical innovation.

While the wingtips were being racked, I perused the shoe shelves from the comfort of my stockinged feet. Eating a honey roasted turkey breast sandwich with American cheese, which I had packed myself, I felt somehow gleeful in the setting what with my suit and tie, but no shoes as I strolled the aisles with sandwich in mid-consumption.

In due time, the shoes were returned, sandwich taken down, stockinged feet neatly enveloped by the complimentary stretched leathers, and 200 yards were counted off as I returned to the 11-story office building.


My first professional conundrum had been swiftly tackled. A mounting sense of invincibility began to develop.
-klem