starbucks
A glutton for punishment and a slave to fashion, I stock my closet with a large variety of fashionable torture instruments, commonly referred to as shoes. My favorite pair (of the month) is a pair of black platform round toe patent leather stilettos with a hardwood sole and heel. They make me feel tall. I now have a reason to wear these shoes on a regular basis; previously I refrained from wearing them only because they gave the appearance of me being taller than the man. Paired with my volumous hair, the appearance was quite convincing.
I now work in a fancy high-rise right in the middle of downtown. In the 44 floors and 8 below-ground parking levels, there are 4 Starbucks; 2 on lobby level, two on level 2. A variety, which I assume us office workers need. After considering each possibility, I travel to the one farthest away. Negotiating wall to wall marble flooring, not a great idea. I am learning that the low co-efficient of friction combination of marble floors and smooth polished hardwood soled heels are not the best combination. Unless the surface is completely level, I have trouble walking confidently. With great trepidation, I hustle towards my store of choice and low and behold, to access the Starbucks I have chosen to be my provider of coffee delights, I must walk down a mild slope of high gloss marble. Grasping the handle rail with a fervor reserved for squeezing a dollar out of fifteen cents, I maneuver my way into the Starbucks, java euphoria imminent.
With images of my shoes being unable to provide enough traction on the upslope I need to overcome, I exit. I imagine not being able to make it up the slight grade, my heels constantly slipping, the ramp now attaining ice-like qualities. Suddenly my triple grande americano with sugar free cinnamon dolce and a hand full of ice does not seem so important. And, I believe I will invest in some rubber soled comfort walkers. Or use my feminine wiles to convince one of the guy baristas deliver coffee to the 20th floor for me. Either way, fashion is not worth embarrassment.
I now work in a fancy high-rise right in the middle of downtown. In the 44 floors and 8 below-ground parking levels, there are 4 Starbucks; 2 on lobby level, two on level 2. A variety, which I assume us office workers need. After considering each possibility, I travel to the one farthest away. Negotiating wall to wall marble flooring, not a great idea. I am learning that the low co-efficient of friction combination of marble floors and smooth polished hardwood soled heels are not the best combination. Unless the surface is completely level, I have trouble walking confidently. With great trepidation, I hustle towards my store of choice and low and behold, to access the Starbucks I have chosen to be my provider of coffee delights, I must walk down a mild slope of high gloss marble. Grasping the handle rail with a fervor reserved for squeezing a dollar out of fifteen cents, I maneuver my way into the Starbucks, java euphoria imminent.
With images of my shoes being unable to provide enough traction on the upslope I need to overcome, I exit. I imagine not being able to make it up the slight grade, my heels constantly slipping, the ramp now attaining ice-like qualities. Suddenly my triple grande americano with sugar free cinnamon dolce and a hand full of ice does not seem so important. And, I believe I will invest in some rubber soled comfort walkers. Or use my feminine wiles to convince one of the guy baristas deliver coffee to the 20th floor for me. Either way, fashion is not worth embarrassment.
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