You Heel!

In response to a recent rant of mine that “The Rent is too Damn High” a commenter responded that “Many customers have no idea what makes up [contractor] prices.” I had to respect this guy, as not too many civilians side with the contractor.

After a recent interaction with a cobbler, who humbly calls himself “The Shoe Master,” I’ve now realize that most business owners don’t provide pricing details as they have no idea how they came up with the price in the first place.

In November 2024, through the judicious use of a Capital One shopping provided discount code and some sort of free shipping offer, I purchased a pair of Rockport bucks for only $45. Quite simply they have become part of the AfterActionReport.info brand, much like punctuality, bourbon and cynicism.

Now Rockport is also a brand, that emphasizes the economic requirements of whoever just purchased it out of Chapter 11 bankruptcy. Which in 2023 (again) was the very inauthentic sounding “Authentic Brands Group,” an American sports, media and lifestyle platform headquartered in NYC.

Now normally my Rockports, no matter the platform nor the Chinese guy who made them, were constructed in such a way that after a year’s wear were so evenly worn that the upper and the lowers disintegrated simultaneously. Not my current kicks though as the uppers remained quite pristine while the heel top lift (that thin piece of rubber that separates your shoe from the ground) was worn almost to the heal base (the stack of the heel that gives it height).

I should have just discarded them, but I couldn’t help myself. When I dropped my Rockports off at the aforementioned Shoe Master, I had my doubts. The Master was not in, and in his stead was his apprentice brother whose pedagogical knowledge was limited. The Shoe Apprentice then called the owner on the phone. Together we asked the Master if he could do anything to extend the life of the heel lift as I had already gone though one set already. He mentioned the option of steel taps; basically, small metal plates attached to the heel lift to prevent premature wear.

Now while I always appreciate options, I was just replacing the heel lifts on a pair of Rockports and not repairing shoes that I would wear to guard the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. I declined and he mentioned the new heel lifts would cost $22.

Well, a week later after numerous phone calls, the Shoe Master informed me that the price he quoted was for woman’s heel lifts and that the new price was $55. I confirmed he was installing new rubber heel lifts and not golden ones.

I then asked for a refund, as paying $55 for new heels for shoes that only cost me $45 made no shoe sense at all. Also, I didn’t like the ethics of it all. I used to be involved with the worldwide shipping of crude oil and if you tried to renegotiate the price after you had an agreement, it was called back trading. It was always a hypothetical as no one did it, otherwise no one would do business with you again.

He agreed (to the refund and not my hypothesis), oddly stating “I really appreciate your business.”  I mentioned I’d pick them up the following day.

As soon as I walked in the door I knew I would not get satisfaction as The Shoe Apprentice was manning the workbench. He profusely apologized, stating that “My brother ripped me a new one.”[1] I then asked that when I spoke with his brother a week earlier, “Did he really think I was a woman?” The Shoe Apprentice assured me he most definitely did not, like he didn’t dare doubt my masculinity. I then left with my shoes and a refund.

I subsequently noticed that the owner also repairs lamps and also goes by “The Lamp Master.” Obviously he does not claim to be “The Price Master.”

Note: This prose would have been that much better if not limited to 700 words.

[1] When I told my wife about this, she asked, “Did he really say, ‘ripped me a new one?!’”