Week 21 Day 1: The longest story featuring sandals since the New Testament

If you've ever wondered how many Payless shoe stores I would go to in order to get my son a pair of sandals, the answer is four. I realize that this is insane, but Gavin was along for three out of four store visits and he enjoyed himself very much. Mostly. Pulling shoes off of shelves is great, great fun. Never mind that Stacy was also with me those three times. Gavin still managed to wreak a little havoc wherever he went. Where there's a will there's a way, after all. And he's pretty willful. Oh yeah, and those three visits were all done today.

I know, I know. You are on the edge of your seat wanting to know what happened and how it all turns out. Keep your pants on, I'm getting to it.

It all started at the Twelve Oaks Mall when I dragged my friend Amber into a Payless store to look at baby shoes. Because there is something wrong with me and also because I wanted to get Gavin a pair of sandals. After examining and dropping each pair (and I really did drop every single pair I picked up, some more than once. Amber can attest to this. I swore to the saleswoman that I was not drunk, but I am not sure she believed me), I decided to get him this cute little pair of navy blue fishermen sandals because they had a soft, flexible sole. Wearing shoes isn't really great for babies because they need to learn to use their toes and stuff for walking, but with the weather getting sunnier here in Michigan Gavin is spending more time outside and he's crawling up a storm. So I want some sandals that cover his toes to prevent him from turning his feet into hamburger. The largest size they had was 3. Having no real idea what Gavin's size was, I bought them knowing that if they didn't fit I could bring them back.

Alas, they didn't fit. But I thought, "No problem. I'll just take them to a different Payless and exchange them for a size 4." Well that, it turns out, is easier said than done. Since it was too hot to take a walk when Stacy got home from work today, we went on a family adventure to the Payless closest to us. No dice. But it just so happens there is yet another Payless only a couple of miles down the same road. So we go there. Even less dice. At this point I'm planning to just return the shoes and call it quits. But the woman behind the counter asks if I'd like her to check the inventory at other Payless stores and even though I don't actually want her to do this because I'm totally not going to go to yet another Payless, I say sure because she is trying to be helpful and she's being really nice and I have a hard time saying no in such situations. It turns out three nearby Payless stores (they're everywhere!) have the sandals in a size 4, the nearest being the Northland mall, which is very near, indeed. So now I kind of feel obligated to go there for them even though I have Stacy and Gavin in tow and it's getting closer and closer to 6:00, which is when he starts getting ready for bed. But Stacy, who is having great fun watching Gavin have great fun crawling the aisles (he's going to get hoof and mouth disease, I know it), is all, "Why not? Let's go." And so we do. Only I've never been to Northland before and Stacy has only a vague idea where it is, she just knows it's really close by, near 8 Mile, in fact, right on the border of Detroit. It's also not a mall that many white people go to, even though Obama's president now and we live in a post-skin color world where racism is no longer a problem because it doesn't exist. We are not afraid, besides we have Gavin to protect us (he is really strong!) and we also are on a very important mission because they are holding Gavin's size 4 sandals for us. I decide to park outside of Jeepers, that little kid nirvana that smells like sweat socks and pizza grease and has the ugliest monkey in the world as a mascot, because I want to remember where we parked so we don't get lost in the mall. Parking here turns out to be genius because as it so happens Payless is right next door. I couldn't have parked closer without crashing our van into the building. So in we go. Time is of the essence! Gavin's bed time is rapidly approaching and he's still barefoot! But like I said, we're right there! How long could this take?

A pretty long time it turns out. There's only one register and the clerk is dealing with a customer who is trying to return a pair of toddler shoes that she didn't actually buy at Payless. She's swearing up and down that those are the shoes that came in the box that is, indeed, from Payless. This is after she'd given a very long and drawn out story about how hard it is to find shoes that fit her 18-month-old and all the different sizes and brands they've tried and even mentions some of the shoe colors and how she would go to Stride Rite but she doesn't want to pay $30 or $40 for a pair of baby shoes although she would pay $50 if they actually fit (I'm not a math major, but I had a hard time following her monetary logic). The manger isn't budging even though the woman "spent $130" the last time she was at Payless, albeit a different store. The shoe box the non-Payless shoes are in is clearly grease-stained, which is suspicious, as is all of the unnecessary information she's giving the employees and it's pretty obvious to me that she's lying and meanwhile Gavin is trying to chew on a silver purse we have no intention of buying after trying to eat a bracelet while Stacy was looking at the hot Payless bling selection. While we're waiting the manager, Shelley, tells Gavin how pretty his eyes are and then asks if she can have his eyes, which is kind of a creepy thing to say. Then she measured Gavin's foot using one of those metal shoe store foot measuring vices and when she tries to take his bare foot and place it on the ruler he pulls it back and looks at her like, "WTF?" But with Stacy's help he relents and Shelley announces that he's a size 4, which we'd already figured out, but thanks for helping.

When the lady has finally decided to pack up her operation she turns to leave along with her daughter (I presume) who is probably 8 or 9. I ask the clerk if she has size 4 sandals on hold for D'Anne and the scammer's daugher turns around and says, "D'Anne? My name's D'Anne." Only it turns out that's actually her middle name and I ask her how it's spelled and she says a series of letters that is mostly incomprehensible, though at one point she says "slash" and makes a slashing motion in the air so I'm thinking maybe her name is D/Anne, but her mom says it's DeAnn and I give them the thumbs up sign and say, "Good name," when what I really want to say to the girl is "don't be a scammer like your mom."

When the clerk puts the box of sandals on the counter between us I explain that I just want to exchange them for the size three ones I bought that don't fit, and even though this is 100% true I feel like the clerk doesn't really believe me since she's been tainted by the scammer lady. This makes me feel a little guilty even though I'm not doing anything wrong. But I have my receipt and everything, so she starts to process the return and then asks if we want to try the sandal on Gavin since, you know, it'd be good to know if it fits and all. At this point, no, I do not want to try the shoe on. I don't even care if it fits. We'll use them as decorations if we have to, but she stops processing the return and says she'll just take the next person in line while we try them on and so Stacy and I wrestle one of the sandals on Gavin's very fat foot and Stacy is not convinced that it fits but I declare that it does and we wriggle his foot around a bit more, which he is not fond of because although he has been a super shoe store trooper, he's really reaching his limit. All he wants to do is crawl around on the floor and get hoof and mouth disease, but the carpet in this Payless looks dirtier than the carpet in the others, so Stacy has to keep him entertained, which is getting increasingly difficult. There is only so much time a 10-month-old can sit still and look at socks or chew on a big silver purse.

So the clerk finishes processing the return and then checks to make sure that she's got two size 3's in one box and two size 4's in the other, which is standard protocol in the shoe biz. But then she does it again, lifting each show up in slow motion. After the return receipt prints out she checks yet a third time and after it's been overly determined that we do, indeed, have two size four sandals in our possession, we finally leave the store.

When we get home Stacy puts Gavin to bed. A little later she, too, goes to bed. And finally I am going to bed. Amen.