the start of my successful future

After having read that successful people buy a new pair of shoes three or four times each year, I felt that my old pair should be retired. Sad as this was, having worn the same shoes for the past six years, I was certain that success wouldn’t find me until new shoes were obtained.

Having gone so long without purchasing shoes, I wasn’t even too sure where to get them. Did Wal-Mart sell shoes? Did Sears? Or should I just get a cheap pair of Buster Brown shoes…though I wasn’t certain that they even made shoes anymore. Who knew that shoe shopping would be so difficult?

In a shoe-induced fog, I ended up at Macy’s and was soon the proud owner of a new pair of black leather, oxford shoes. I had a sales call scheduled for the following day and this, I thought, would be the perfect opportunity to wear my new shoes and usher in my new age-of-success.

I arrived at my appointment early the next morning, clad in my new shoes. Vince, my boss, has determined that all of our big accounts will be handled by Lenny…our inept sales manager…which is why I was visiting a small little company in a seedy part of town. The company was housed in a decrepit building which was also home to an attorney and a fitness equipment supplier. According to a large banner attached to the chain link fence surrounding the parking lot, there were several units for lease inside the building, though I couldn’t imagine why any company would choose to make this their home.

I parked and headed toward the front door. As I walked underneath the awning, I felt a sharp pain in my right arm. I paused, curious as to why I had suddenly developed this malady. And as I stood pondering this, I felt two sharp, stinging pains in my left arm and one on my neck. Suddenly I became aware that several wasps were swarming around me and that a large hive sat directly above my head on the underside of the awning I had just passed underneath.

I started swatting madly with the brochures I was carrying as I made a mad dash to the front door. Once I was safely inside the lobby, I assessed the damage…which amounted to five wasp stings and a total of four colored brochures that had been dropped as I raced into the building.

Having never been stung by any wasps before, I had no idea if I was allergic to them and anxiously waited to see if I would swell up and stop breathing. As the elevator doors slid open, I stepped inside and pressed the button for the third floor, relieved to find that I could still breathe and wasn’t swelling up in size. This, I reasoned, was an incredibly painful way to find out that one is not allergic to wasp stings.

I exited onto the third floor and started off down the hall. Approaching the door, I took a deep breath, readying myself for the start of my newfound successful future, and walked inside.

The secretary looked up as I entered and, noticing the expanding welts on my arms and neck, said, “Good heavens! What happened to you?”

I explained my unfortunate encounter with the wasps. “You mean you entered on the Fourth Avenue side? Oh, we never use that entrance,” she told me. “When you leave, use the doors to the rear parking lot. I’m glad you told me about this, though, so I can alert maintenance. I’d hate for somebody that works in the building to get stung!”

Obviously for those of us non-building workers, getting stung was entirely acceptable.

“So what can I do for you?” she asked.

“I have an appointment with Mr. Walsh,” I told her.

“Well this just isn’t your lucky day now, is it?” she responded. “Mr. Walsh left an hour ago. He must have forgotten that he had a meeting scheduled for today.”

I left a business card with her and took the stairwell down to the rear entrance that she had recommended. I exited the building and crossed through a small grassy divide that was littered with fast food wrappers and empty bottles that ran along side the chain link fence, inside of which sat my car.

I opened my car door, started the engine, and rested my head against the steering wheel when I noticed the distinct odor of dog poop wafting in the air. Glancing down at my feet, I saw that a rather large dog dropping now decorated the bottom of my new leather oxford.

I stepped back outside and tried to scrape off as much poop as possible onto the asphalt parking lot. Glaring down at my shoes…shoes that certainly hadn’t provided any promise that success would be forthcoming…I said to them, “I hope you realize that this is all your fault.”