Home > Opinions > SHOES TO DIE FOR!

SHOES TO DIE FOR!

By Suzy Sweetly-Services

By Suzy Sweetly-Services

The tables were being draped in shades of pink for important guests that were soon to arrive. Soon, though, was more of estimate than an actual depiction of time. We all know that it isn’t fashionable to wear watches. There was a big debacle about whether or not to lay the knives “in” or “out.” I thought about just picking one up and slitting my throat but thought the better of it, as it would probably ruin the overall color scheme. Whatever.

I watched the door, standing at attention with my hands firmly pressed together behind my back. An old, bespectacled man, the embodiment of dust itself and melanin challenged, moseyed on over and up the stairs. Less aged versions of himself, dapper in business casual, followed suit. A supposedly “glamorous” woman with shoes that my co-workers would not shut up about walked by, confidently carrying her blazer over her shoulder with one hand. This also showcased her extensive gold bracelets on her bronzed wrists.

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The set table (take note of the lovely floral centerpiece).

“She’s from Bunkum-Gild City, ya know…” a fellow waiter said in a hushed tone.

“What a classy woman,” said another.

“Those shoes could pay for a month of my rent, lemme tell you…” commented somebody else.

From a financial standpoint, I wondered to myself if that were actually true. From a perception of style, I’d seen better. Again, whatever. The appetizers were passed around but no one was really biting, so to speak. Cluttered around the bar, these patrons knew where the good stuff was. The pre-meal was served without a hitch, water glasses were filled enough to make the ice clink a couple of times, and everybody got their entrees within seven minutes. We all stood in the corner and watched them eat and pretend to have a good time. After plates were cleared, it was time for the next and final course: dessert!

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The shoes that could pay for a month’s rent (file photo)

Somebody messed up the order and went to the wrong table first, totally passing by an annoyed President Pondicherry. I held back in horror, two bowls of strawberry soup stuff in either hand, awaiting instruction from a boss.

“Just go!” commanded a boss in utter despair.

Dessert was finally served and barely eaten. Much of it went to waste. Upon clearing the tables, the old dust cloud backed his chair into one of the waitstaff, causing her to trip over the wire hooked up to a nearby podium. Causing a domino effect, the strawberry soup stuff went flying all over the place. In a pre-emptive move that essentially was non-effective, the classy woman got up and broke her heel. Unsteady and not used to walking with the ground so close to her arches, she stumbled and ended up falling forehead first into her very own stiletto spike.

There was blood everywhere and everyone was running around with strawberry soup stuff all over their Pashminas. I went over and knelt down beside her to see if she was still alive when gasping for air, she grabbed my shirt collar and whispered what the actual retail price of her shoes were. Now I’d tell you but my break’s up and I’ve got to go clean out some toilets.

Mayonnaise and Mayhem,
Suzy

  1. June 1, 2015 at 9:32 am

    Reblogged this on SARAH SAMWAYS and commented:
    “There was blood everywhere and everyone was running around with strawberry soup stuff all over their Pashminas.”

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