I worked full time at the shoe
store the summer after graduation (1960). I had learned to sell shoes the last
Saturday before school began in 1959. That was always the stores busiest day of
the year – back to school shoes. I was in the back stocking shelves when Jim,
men and children’s floor manager, told me to go out and ask someone if I could
help them. The floor was jammed, and I didn’t want to but I did. I chose a man
holding a very small child in his arms, asked what he wanted, asked if he knew the
size. He didn’t and the kid was so squirmy I doubted he would hold his foot
still enough for me to measure it, besides I didn’t know how that stick worked.
So I took a look at the foot and figured I could get close. When I returned
with shoes, they were clearly too big. The father explained he had been waiting
a long time and then he got stuck with a salesman who knew nothing about shoes
saying, “What is this, your first day?” Well actually, it was.
I was so embarrassed I
disappeared into a back shelving area with winter boots (called goulashes) where were stored. I figure no one would find me
there. It was too hot outside to want boots. After while, Jim came lurking
around the corner pretending he was looking for some shoes (duh!) and said, “Don’t worry about it. My first customer threw the
shoes at me. Now get back out there.” While still nervous, the rest of the day
was much more successful. I even figure out how the measuring stick worked. At
the end of the day Jim said, “Stick with me kid and I’ll teach you how to be a
better salesman that I am. That was saying a lot, as he was usually the top
salesman of each week. He did what he promised and I have always loved him for
it.
He was clearly training me to
move up to women’s shoes. More lucrative and the place were all the younger,
flirty, goof looking guys went. That was not company policy, but the was the
practice. Jim said flirt with them, tell them how nice the shoes look on them
and keep complimenting and smiling. It will work wonders. It did and I began to
have weeks I would beat Jim.
The work place gradually became
the center of my existence. I was good-friends with Chet and his brother
Donald, both salesmen near my age. They wanted me to move in with them so I
spent a few nights at their apartment to check it out. It might have been
tolerable, but neither of them could cook and I sure couldn’t. I could not live
on burgers alone, nor did I want to eat out every day.
I did join a bowling league with
Chet, Donald and Rick who was the assistant manager. Rick was our best bowler.
He had his own ball and glove. Chet and I battled back and forth for second and
third. We bowled once a week after work. We also hug out at times getting
something to eat or going to a beach.
Chet and Donald were cousins who
grew up in an unorganized religious sect where his father was the pastor. They
did not go to doctors, the hospital or take pills. Chet has a useable but
twisted right hand from a fall out of a tree as a child. He lived with the pain
and agony for weeks while it healed. Once he was old enough and realized that
most people saw doctors or went to the hospital to fix these things, he began to
hate his father. He ran away at 16 and came to work at the shoe store at 18. I
don’t know where he was for the two years between. A year later his cousin, who
also came to work at the shoe store, joined him.
All three guys were great fun,
and all were looking for a woman. The four of us worked the floor beautifully
and flirted with all the women and tried to get dates with some of the younger
ones. Both Rick and Chet succeeded. I had opportunities, but was still only
interested in “churched” girls. Rick saw his date several more times. Chet’s
ended after one night.
One day Rick returned from lunch
and shopping at Brandies (Omaha’s biggest
department store). He was wearing a beautiful tan and brown plaid sports
coat that he purchased for $6. He encouraged Chet and I to buy one as well.
They were all identical and all size 42 (Donald
was to short, right size, but wrong length). Rick had a plan that turned
into a great game on a slow day. It helped that we were all close to the same
height, hair color and build. We traded off on one customer. One would welcome
the customer and get the sale started. While in the back getting the shoes, he passed
them off to one of the other of us. If she wanted to see more shoes the third
salesman brought them out. All we wanted to know was if the customer ever
noticed she didn’t always have the same salesman. A few did – but very few. The
ones who caught on had a good laugh. The starting salesman always finalized the
sale. We worked on commission. I really thought more would notice. We may have
appeared similar, but we all sounded quit different. The boss let it happen a
few times, but finally put a stop to it, instead we went out together after
work and got heads to turn.
We were all very competitive and
the quickest and most profitable way increase sales was to sell sponge rubber
arch supports. They cost $1.25, you made a regular commission and the
manufacture offered a 25¢ refund for every sale you made. We had the carious
sizes of those things stuck in every pocket. When removing a ladies shoe, we
placed our fingers under the ball of her foot and gently pressed up while
asking, “Doesn’t that feel better?” then tried to convince them that these wonderful,
incredible cheap (economical)
supports will give them that same relief. Then we would slip them in the shoes
and have them walk. “Woo, that does feel better.” Another satisfied customer,
at least for the next 30 minutes before the support flattened out. This only
worked on high heals. Nearly every woman coming in wore them with their toes
jammed into the pointy shoe toes. Most also had corns and bunions. The shoes
did nothing for the feet – but ruin them. Why wear them? Fashion I guess. Silly
people.
On the last Saturday before fall
school began (our busiest of the year)
I split my pants an hour after we opened. Not a small split but from the center
all the way to the waistband. No extra pants, too busy to go home and a hot day
when all the salesmen had their jackets off. Not me, I kept mine on all day and
did all I could to keep my back from the many mirrors of the store. The sales
crew never noticed until I told them at the end of the day. Beige pants and
white underwear helped. If a customer noticed they were gracious enough to say
nothing.
When college began I worked
every Saturday, Monday and Thursday – those evening we were open late. Then I
worked afternoons after classes when I could. I enjoyed the work and got plenty
of exercise bending up and down and running for shoes all day.
It’s a little hard for an old shoe
salesman to visit self-serve stores of today. All you can find is a cashier,
but then they get paid a minimum wage to stand around. We earned minimum wage
plus commission and there were some great weeks. I had weeks I earned more than
my dad at Union Pacific Railroad. When I found that out, I never mentioned my
income again.
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