The Shoe Lady

One cold and dreary day, after having been held hostage indoors by the grip of winter, I decided to break loose from the prison of inclement weather and hit a shoe sale. I had grown weary of the preceding weeks of sun deprivation and needed something that would break the monotony of my life – something that would lift my spirits.
Shortly after I arrived at the shoe store, I carefully selected my two pairs of shoes for the “Buy One Pair, Get the Other Pair Half Price” deal and was ready to purchase. As I moved my way up to the checkout counter, a middle-aged woman carrying at least six boxes of shoes whisked past me, cut in line and advanced directly to the cashier. An exhausted looking young woman and a bubbly toddler, unmistakably the woman’s daughter and grandson, stood by her side.
I was already furious that the woman had cut line, when suddenly she fueled my anger even more as she began spewing out questions to the cashier like a volcano erupting with red-hot lava. She demanded details about every pair of shoes she had selected.
“So, if I buy this pair, I can get these other ones half off?” the agitated shoe lady bellowed. The cashier shook her head no. “Oh, I guess it’s always the cheaper pair that you get half off,” the shoe lady said, thinking out loud in an intimidating voice that echoed throughout the store.