Wednesday, January 30, 2013

One Size Fits Most

I have a birthday coming up within the fortnight. Don't think I'm fishing for gifts. Ol' Val has everything a woman could need. And then some. But there's something on the work front that I covet. My employer is going to spring for it, I'm sure. Not in time for my birthday, of course. But in time for next school year. I will drop some hints every month. I will pencil it into my requisition form, then erase it so it can still be seen. No need wasting my allotment of taxpayer dough on an item that I consider a right, not a frill. Other teachers have them. I merely ask to be kept like the Joneses. So...what do you get the teacher who has everything?


Not Manolo Blahniks. No Jimmy Choo shoes. Don't need Christian Louboutin boots. Nor vermillion Crocs. Nope. I'm talkin' about the latest fashion fad in educator footwear...


Look at the dainty lines. The cushioned instep. The high gloss. The aesthetic profile. I don't mean to drool like a fetishist, but you must admit there's something tantalizing about a well-turned chair-ankle in a hot quad of workplace clodhoppers.

I can't find a vendor for these eyecatchers anywhere. Not even my BFF Google can give me an image. I know they are not custom made. It's not like that hippie barefoot dude, Cody, on Dual Survival, sawed into a bloated cow carcass and peeled away dear, departed leather for a sole, through which he wove yucca fibers for straps. And I'm pretty sure they were not made by Mythbusters out of duct tape for their very own version of survival show sandals. Somewhere, a factory is chugging away, churning out these beauties in a steady gleaming stream.

It's all I can do to restrain the green-eyed monster when I happen across a sight such as this:

Oh, the coltish insouciance! Flaunting their footwear with unbridled abandon. Knowing not the effect such a sight has upon one so enamored of their assets.

I swear, as this blog is my witness, that one day, I shall never be chair-shoeless again!


  1. Yes, I have drooled over those shoes as well. In the past, I have gotten cheap (free) tennis balls, cut an X in them, and put one on the end of each chair leg. They worked well, but did get dirty by the end of the year.

    I'm hoping you get your gift soon...

  2. hey did you ever stay after school when all faculty have gone home? Have you ever played Rob Your Neighbor? A couple chairs at a time and you could be set.

  3. Chair fashion aside, there must be practical reasons for chair shoes. Do they muffle sound and keep the floors from being scratched?

  4. Sioux,
    Something tells me that one of these days, I'm going to read a scathingly brilliant tale penned in song by your musical son, extolling the virtues of childhood shoes made by cutting an X into footballs donated to unshod children.

    I have an inkling that my gift will not arrive before August.

    Sadly, I stay after school in the manner of Elaine Benes fighting the good fight to protect her movie-seat territory.

    I have been the victim of Rob Your Neighbor, but never the perpetrator. Unless stealing back your own stuff counts. Which I say it does not. When I take over the world, that will be in my citizen handbook.

    I'm thinking of starting a dual support group with all of those bridesmaids who were never brides.

    The purpose of chair shoes is to pacify the custodians. So they don't say hurtful things like, "Your class is the WORST!" Meaning that the bare chair feet have created skid marks in the wax that is applied once in the summer, and once over Christmas break. Implying that the 100 students who pass through your classroom each day should glide in and out on gossamer feet, and stand behind their desks rather than pull out the chair to sit down, scoot it up to work, push it back to turn in the assignment, scoot it up to not appear a wacko who won't scoot his chair up, push it back to leave when the bell rings, and push it in to avoid Mrs. Val Thevictorian's wrath.

    Anybody in-the-know knows that the purpose of schools is not to educate the masses, but to act as showcases for the mad cleaning skillz of the custodians, who break their backs to make sure we have nice things, only to have their works destroyed by inconsiderate children during the school day. We applaud their Sisyphean efforts, but are helpless to cordon off their gallery.

    I think that should quench your thirst for knowledge on this topic. I'm always happy to reveal insider information for those outside the trenches. I'm sure Sioux will give me a "HECK, YEAH!" on this one.

    1. Yes, the custodians don't worry about the inch-thick layer of dust on the window sills, but the floors have to be buffed regularly and waxed twice-annually.

      They're hoarders of trashbags and paper towels, and are only seen early in the morning, and then at lunch in the cafeteria. The rest of the day, they are whittling small, whimsical creatures out of wood, to ensure they have plenty of wood shavings to toss onto puddles of vomit.

  5. Val, all I have to say is that since you use such fancy words, I had to look up the definition of "fortnight" so I'd have an inkling as to when your birthday is! Geeez, couldn't ya just say within the next two weeks??!!
    All kidding aside, you're an awesome writer and I know you will receive many gifts this year: your writing will be published!! :)