Today as I'm standing in the isle at Walmart frantically looking for a replacement cartridge for my printer and trying to figure out which one was the correct one was rolling around in my brain. My thoughts are interupted by feeling the presence of someone standing next to me. I wasn't dressed to impress. I'm wearing some old gold colored clunker sandals and a pair of jeans that I grabbed out of the closet because they were the first things I saw. Now, my latest pedicure was on my birthday, July 8, so you can just use your imagination as to the condition of my dry, unpainted, arthritic tootsies with bunions and just a touch of toenail fungus on one big toe. Not a pretty sight.
The "presence" beside me mumbled something and as I turned to look at him he says, plain as daylight, "you have very pretty feet." ........ Humm, I'm thinking - ok - here's a live one with a loose screw. Being the polite person I am, I said "thank you" and turned back to the rack hoping to find my cartridge and that he would move on to the next isle. After a moment, he says something else to me. As I turned to him with a questioning look, he repeated his statement. "Would you mind showing my your heels?" At that point, I said "WHAT??" He politely repeated his request. Now, I'm not believing what I am hearing! I blurted out "WHY?" "Why in the world do you want to see my heels?" He looked somewhat rejected and quietly said, I have a "foot fetish" to which I loudly said," well you go find someone's elses' heels to look at but you ain't seein' mine."
I quickly found my hubby, told him what happened and we went to the Service Desk and ask for Security. I'm pretty worked up by now and ready to run for my life but expected some long drawn out report would have to be filled out. You know, a little excitement. In a moment, a long tall dude in jeans and cowboy boots saunters up to us. Expecting to see somebody in a uniform, I asked "are you security"? He nodded, (apparently miffed because I asked) so I explained the whole thing to him. Not seeming too impressed or concerned, he said he would look at the video cameras and that in the last two years, they had something like this only a couple of times. Lucky me.
As we left, he laughed and said to me. "Well, look at it this way, it's nice to be over 50 and have someone think you're good looking enough to compliment your feet!" I could have decked him! I've never even been "hit" on before, and some jerk only tells me I have pretty feet? Dang!
