finest, most shoe-educated salesforce in the business.”
I nodded, remembering my one-week training course where I had to remember everything that could possibly go wrong with a shoe fitting. I learned how many bones there were in the human foot (twenty-six) including nineteen muscles, thirty-three joints, and one hundred seven ligaments. I learned that bones of the feet make up approximately one fourth of all the bones in the body, that the feet are one of the most frequently injured parts of the body. I understood that the average individual will walk about 115,000 miles in their lifetime, which is more than four times the earth’s circumference, and came to the rapid conclusion that selling well-made comfortable shoes is a noble profession, providing immeasurablebenefit for people the world over. Then I got my own personal shoehorn, and after my one-year anniversary, I got a shoehorn with my initials.
“Elden has cancelled the training courses for new employees,” she said. “He just fired two of my top store managers who refused to sell his shoddy merchandise. One of them ran the Peoria store.” Her lips went tight.
I got nervous for Murray. “Can he do that?”
“He has done it.”
“But why?”
Mrs. Gladstone was staring at my shoe like it was a dead pet. “I don’t think I want to be around to witness what Elden will do to my business.”
“Boy, Mrs. Gladstone, that’s pretty rough.”
“It’s a sad day, Jenna, when profits and greed alone influence quality. It’s an even sadder day when honor in business is close to becoming a thing of the past.”
The Cadillac purred across the highway, which is what you expect from a 32-valve, 300-horsepower V8 engine. Mrs. Gladstone was stirring around in the back, rattling papers, keeping busy to manage the hurt. She seemed to trust I’d get her to Springfield, and I would. Good, loyal Jenna. Loyal like a dog. A person you can count on. Just give her a Milk Bone and she’ll go out of her way to help. I turned south onto 55. In an hour we’d be in Springfield.
I was getting the hang of maneuvering this big white moose after 184 miles. There’s something about holding ontoa steering wheel and feeling the miles drift away from you as you push farther and farther away from what you once knew.
One of the last things Mom said to me before we left the house was that even though I’d be driving a long way from home, I wouldn’t be driving away from my problems. I knew this was true the way I knew that clouds weren’t made of cotton, but sometimes those white clumpy clouds hanging in a gray blue sky made me wonder if God hadn’t stuck some cotton balls up there when the scientists weren’t looking.
I knew one thing for sure: I was glad to be away from the mess with Dad.
I didn’t miss it one bit.
I let a hot red Mustang convertible pass me, catching the license plate as the car whizzed by: ITSORED .
I sighed.
Someday.
There was good news and bad news in Springfield, Illinois.
The good news was that we got there.
The bad news was that the hotel was overbooked with the Markoy Electronics annual sales meeting and we had to share a room.
“This,” said Mrs. Gladstone to the bellman, “is not a room, it is a closet.”
The bellman, who was old and deaf, said he was glad we liked it and hoped we had a nice stay. He tottered out, waving happily. I checked out the room. One twin bed; one rollawaybed approximately five feet in length for all five feet eleven inches of me.
Mrs. Gladstone lowered herself slowly onto the real bed.
“Gee, Mrs. Gladstone, it isn’t so bad. You should have seen the room my mother and sister and I shared last summer in the Dells. Bugs in the mattress, seedy furniture. We’re talking
Les Miserables.
But you know, we had an okay time.”
Mrs. Gladstone glared at the Springfield, Illinois, Visitor’s Guide:
The City Lincoln Loved,
and said absolutely nothing.
The hotel restaurant, El Pollo Loco, was packed with
I nodded, remembering my one-week training course where I had to remember everything that could possibly go wrong with a shoe fitting. I learned how many bones there were in the human foot (twenty-six) including nineteen muscles, thirty-three joints, and one hundred seven ligaments. I learned that bones of the feet make up approximately one fourth of all the bones in the body, that the feet are one of the most frequently injured parts of the body. I understood that the average individual will walk about 115,000 miles in their lifetime, which is more than four times the earth’s circumference, and came to the rapid conclusion that selling well-made comfortable shoes is a noble profession, providing immeasurablebenefit for people the world over. Then I got my own personal shoehorn, and after my one-year anniversary, I got a shoehorn with my initials.
“Elden has cancelled the training courses for new employees,” she said. “He just fired two of my top store managers who refused to sell his shoddy merchandise. One of them ran the Peoria store.” Her lips went tight.
I got nervous for Murray. “Can he do that?”
“He has done it.”
“But why?”
Mrs. Gladstone was staring at my shoe like it was a dead pet. “I don’t think I want to be around to witness what Elden will do to my business.”
“Boy, Mrs. Gladstone, that’s pretty rough.”
“It’s a sad day, Jenna, when profits and greed alone influence quality. It’s an even sadder day when honor in business is close to becoming a thing of the past.”
The Cadillac purred across the highway, which is what you expect from a 32-valve, 300-horsepower V8 engine. Mrs. Gladstone was stirring around in the back, rattling papers, keeping busy to manage the hurt. She seemed to trust I’d get her to Springfield, and I would. Good, loyal Jenna. Loyal like a dog. A person you can count on. Just give her a Milk Bone and she’ll go out of her way to help. I turned south onto 55. In an hour we’d be in Springfield.
I was getting the hang of maneuvering this big white moose after 184 miles. There’s something about holding ontoa steering wheel and feeling the miles drift away from you as you push farther and farther away from what you once knew.
One of the last things Mom said to me before we left the house was that even though I’d be driving a long way from home, I wouldn’t be driving away from my problems. I knew this was true the way I knew that clouds weren’t made of cotton, but sometimes those white clumpy clouds hanging in a gray blue sky made me wonder if God hadn’t stuck some cotton balls up there when the scientists weren’t looking.
I knew one thing for sure: I was glad to be away from the mess with Dad.
I didn’t miss it one bit.
I let a hot red Mustang convertible pass me, catching the license plate as the car whizzed by: ITSORED .
I sighed.
Someday.
There was good news and bad news in Springfield, Illinois.
The good news was that we got there.
The bad news was that the hotel was overbooked with the Markoy Electronics annual sales meeting and we had to share a room.
“This,” said Mrs. Gladstone to the bellman, “is not a room, it is a closet.”
The bellman, who was old and deaf, said he was glad we liked it and hoped we had a nice stay. He tottered out, waving happily. I checked out the room. One twin bed; one rollawaybed approximately five feet in length for all five feet eleven inches of me.
Mrs. Gladstone lowered herself slowly onto the real bed.
“Gee, Mrs. Gladstone, it isn’t so bad. You should have seen the room my mother and sister and I shared last summer in the Dells. Bugs in the mattress, seedy furniture. We’re talking
Les Miserables.
But you know, we had an okay time.”
Mrs. Gladstone glared at the Springfield, Illinois, Visitor’s Guide:
The City Lincoln Loved,
and said absolutely nothing.
The hotel restaurant, El Pollo Loco, was packed with
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