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  • I've never been a fan of pointy shoes. You know the ones? Penis shoes, we call them, my wife and I. But today I think they might have just got me a job.

    That and the suit, it was blue and had a silver bug on the lapel. Stephanie the shop assistant who'd studied fashion at college and was aiming to lecture when she went back to Ireland, said I looked great. Confident. She almost up-sold me the shoes but I resisted. "I'm just not ready for pointy shoes," I explained. My whole identity is defined in opposition to those shoes. Who would I be? But that night I couldn't stop thinking about them. I kept feeling like I needed them so with I came back the next day and bought them - for 20% off. Stephanie had signed me up as a VIP and I'd gotten an email overnight, with a voucher in it. Winning!

    Pointy penis shoes protrude into the world, they assert you, they say 'I am here.' In fact they say, 'I'm not just here, I'm actually several inches in front of myself and yes I walk like a medieval court jester but that is the price of fashion and being uber confident. Whammo.' Look at my old shoes, sure they're Campers, sure they're incredibly comfortable, sure they're $300, but they're round. Passive. Unassertive. No wonder I bombed my last interview, no wonder I mumbled and ummed. I had the wrong shoes. Round shoes get you walked all over. Pointy penis shoes in the shade of tan, on the other hand, go perfectly with my blue suit with the bug and damn I look good on my Vespa zooming down the motorway.

    But in the heat of the day the wind gets up and then on the open motorway at 90kph my Vespa is like a kite, blowing this way and that. I hang on for dear life as trucks rumble up my backside and overtake with a roar that's loud even in my helmet, throwing their slipstreams that blow me left then suck me right. The pointy shoes aren't helping. They're catching the wind almost as badly as my Vespa's legshield. Did the Italians invent pointy shoes as well as Vespas? I bet they bloody did. I slow to 80, hunch against the buffeting and think at least this near death experience is taking my mind off the job interview.

    Long story short, I walked awkwardly out of that interview and back to the Vespa feeling like I'd got the job. Clothes really do make the man and suiting up really does help. But special thanks must go to the pointy penis shoes.

    I know, I'm getting ahead of myself.
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