Wingtips of a Dead Man

Guest Blogger…NATHAN EKLUUUUUND! The following is a story that Nathan told me last week, he was kind enough to write about it. Enjoy!

“What size shoe do you wear?”

“10.5”

“Do you want to try on my dead dad’s shoes?”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

Mary asked if I would be interested in trying on her dad’s shoes that they had purchased a month or two before he died. Frugal like Tom himself, I espoused the “if the shoe fits, wear ‘em” mantra and I went ahead and accepted. I mean who doesn’t want some free Rockport red/brown arminian chili colored wingtips?

To be frank, the shoes aren’t actually really my style, assuming I have a style. But I love Mary, I loved her dad, I love free stuff, and I figured I’d find some occasion to wear them. And I was right.

Last week I went with a co-worker to make a pitch to a potential large client. Please note: I don’t really “make pitches” to “clients” with “co-workers.” Not really my normal gig. But the morning came and when it was time to get dressed, I figured I should dress the part. I knew my co-worker would be the black suit sort of guy. So I decided to play a little good cop/bad cop and I went the more dressed down route. A pair of khakis. A blue dress shirt. A brown sport coat. Pretty plain. A little cute.

But then it was time to pick shoes. It was a clear loafer outfit. But looking in the closet, there were the shoes. Calling to me. And I realized why. Tom made a career of selling stuff. And I bet he was really good at it. So, despite that fact that they were the wrong shoes for the outfit, I slid them on. Did they look good? No. Not really. But were they the right choice? Absolutely.

As we pulled into the client’s office, a black cat passed in front of our car. No kidding. My colleague was sort of jokingly shaken by it. Regardless of your personal view of superstition, I suppose a black cat passing in front of you isn’t necessarily a good omen.

As we were sitting in the lobby waiting for the meeting to start, Phil reiterated that the black cat was sort of unnerving. I crossed my legs and pointed at my shoes.

“See these shoes Phil? These are the wingtips of a dead man. We’re okay.”

An hour later we left the meeting. We had crushed it. It could not have gone better. The shoes were clearly more powerful than the cat. From here on, I’m dedicated to wearing these shoes each time I’m in a sales situation. They might not look good on me. They might not be right for the event. But damned if they don’t work.

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