Read Online Best Foot Forward by Joan Bauer - Free Book Online

Baby were talking in muffled tones. Murray stuck out his chicken neck, which meant I could take my break. Tried and true Jenna. No life beyond these walls, which was why I got so much done.
    I went upstairs.
    An e-mail message had come from Ken Woldman, CEO, to Mrs. Gladstone about her quality control report.
    Â 
    Madeline—
Great stuff. Lots to discuss on developing our
common language of quality.
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    A package had arrived from Mergers R Hell. It had a note from Elden M. Gladstone, SI (Shoe Insect).
    ALL GLADSTONE SHOE STORE PERSONNEL, REGARDLESS OF LENGTH OF SERVICE, ARE EXPECTED TO VIEW THE ENCLOSED SHOE WAREHOUSE CD, “HOW TO SELL A PAIR OF SHOES.” IT WILL HELP US ALL FIND THE COMMON LANGUAGE TO MAKE THIS MERGER THE BEST IN THE BUSINESS.
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    â€œI got a bucket in case anybody needs to throw up.” Murray joined me, Mrs. Gladstone, and Tanner after we closed the store. I put the CD into my computer.
    Dumb music played.
    A man and a woman on the screen, wearing matching Shoe Warehouse shirts. The woman said stiffly, “How do I sell a pair of shoes, Don? This is my first day.” She looked pretty excited about it.
    Murray gripped my chair.
    â€œDon’t worry, Suzie,” said Don. “Selling shoes is as easy as one, two, three.”
    Tanner snorted. Mrs. Gladstone sat down. I was already sitting.
    â€œYou see, Suzie, people just want to see a friendly face when they come into a shoe store. That’s the first thing you’ve got to remember.”
    Suzie nodded. “Okay, Don, I think I can remember that. ”
    â€œAnd the second thing you’ve got to remember is that every foot is a little different.” He held up a foot measurer. “That’s why we have this !”
    Tanner was laughing big time; Murray was praying, “Oh, God . . . oh, God . . .”
    It went on to show Don measuring Suzie’s foot and Suzie getting happier and happier as she saw that any brain-dead moron could sell shoes. You didn’t have to know anything about the brands. You didn’t even have to be breathing—you could be animatronic, like Don.
    Tedious twerp music played as Don walked Suzie through the shoe store, finishing up with point number three. “To find the right fit, check the toe.”
    â€œWhat about the width?” Murray screamed. “What about heel placement?”
    But Don didn’t care about that. He shook Suzie’s hand and told her she was ready to begin her exciting new career selling shoes. The CD ended.
    Mrs. Gladstone went into her office and shut the door.
    Murray went into the bathroom.
    Tanner said, “So when am I gonna sell shoes? I can do that. ”
    I glared at him until he went downstairs.
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    In my own defense, I would like to say that I did not see that stupid guy who was pulling out of the parking lot much too fast, and when I heard the sickening crack of his bumper connecting with my passenger door, I slammed on the brake and jumped out of the car.
    â€œOkay,” he said, examining my door, “it’s just a scratch.”
    â€œI just got this car!”
    â€œYou should have been looking!”
    â€œGive me a break!”
    He was pretty tall and had a long face. He tried to use height over me, but I stood him toe to toe. He checked the front bumper of his van. “I’m not sure I had this dent before.”
    I looked at all the other dents on his van. “How could you tell?”
    He bent down and looked at my door. “It scratched the paint. That’s all.”
    I sputtered, “I think we should call the police.” That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re in an accident.
    â€œFor this?” He looked at me like I was an overly emotional female, wrote out his name and number on a card, and handed it to me.
    CHARLIE DURAN
Home: 555-1744
Work: 555-1600
    The card was from Duran’s Doughnuts. Believe me, doughnuts were the only thing this guy had