Category: shoes

12 Nov

Run Shoes, Fun Shoes

I don’t like to take credit for a lot of things, but when I saw this article in today’s New York Times about the boom in neon running gear — particularly shoes — I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible.

The piece really pegs this as a trend that has exploded this year, and I’ll mostly agree with that. But as a longtime proponent of rocking brightly colored running shoes, and more importantly, as a veteran of the running shoe industry, I can tell you this did not pop up overnight.

One of the central questions the story explores is, will it last?

“Most analysts do not track shoe sales by color, but it is clear that the shoe business is booming. NPD Group, a retail analyst firm, said sales of retail goods in the running category were up $39 million, or 12 percent, this year from 2012. Some attribute that, at least in part, to the new palette.”

I began selling shoes in 1999 as an after-school job and worked for that company until 2005. During that entire era, running shoes came in a very narrow range of colors. Companies did not branch out much at all. For men, the shoes were typically white with navy blue, and an accent of either black or something in the gold/beige family. In fact, “typically” isn’t even a fair word. Your choice was which logo went on the side.

Women’s shoes were slightly more adventurous, but still consisted of either white or grey, with some sort of baby blue, purple or a rare appearance by pink. All muted tones, too.

I moved to another company in 2006 and 2007, and that’s when this neon trend really got its start. But it happened slowly. Shoe companies are quick to jump on trends, but they tread carefully when it comes to establishing what those trends will be. Remember when there were only two choices in the minimalist shoes that are everywhere today? It took a few years for that to really become a thing.

The same was true with bright colors. In 2006, I bought a pair of bright yellow New Balance running shoes:

Perhaps the finest news crew ever assembled

Before that purchase, I’m sure I didn’t sell one pair to a customer. They were intrigued, would pick up the shoes and think maybe they would be fun, but ultimately get self-conscious and decide to play it safe and get what they saw everyone else wearing.

After I bought them and wore them around in the store, though, I sold tons. People loved them, but most of all they loved seeing someone else wear them. That’s what broke down that last little bit that kept them from embracing the fun that running should be. I was never a pushy salesman on things like trying to get you to purchase a matching jacket, but I encouraged everyone I could to branch out and pick up the more colorful version of a shoe. The same pattern of suddenly skyrocketing sales played out again when I bought a pair of bright orange shoes there, ones that I’m proud to say I wore setting my best time in every single race distance:

I can’t tell you the number of compliments I have received on my bright shoes over the years, whether it’s from someone standing next to me at a start line, or the Instagram picture I post of the latest pair I just bought. What I can say is that nobody ever, ever, ever, ever, ever said one word about white shoes with navy blue accents.

As long as the manufacturers keep making them, I will always wear shoes like these:

My current lineup

And if you’re looking for an interesting section for my Wikipedia page, I’m proud to say I played a role in making other people feel cool about wearing them too.

By cjhannas running shoes Uncategorized
10 Dec

Oranges and Oranges

On Sunday, I was in exactly the same shape as I was on June 5, 2011.

On both days, I ran a 5K in 22:46, and did each race while wearing orange shoes. The only difference this time was that I was inaugurating a brand new pair or awesome race footwear:

This new pair has a long way to go to live up to the legacy of its predecessor. In 2009, the old pair was on my feet for five personal records — every single race I ran that year. That included lowering my half-marathon best twice (1:49:45 then 1:43:08), my 5K best twice (21:34 then 20:24) and establishing a record for a four-mile race.

Of course, that’s also the same year I ended up with a stress fracture in my foot, but I completely blame that on my training shoes. Who could be mad at these?

Now I just have to make sure I continue getting in better shape, unlike the months following June 5 last year. To say that I got lazy would be an incredible understatement.

I think I’m much more committed right now though. Tentative next race — February half-marathon in Jacksonville (though I won’t rule out a 5K before then).

By cjhannas running shoes Uncategorized
19 Jan

The Squeaky Shoe Gets Replaced

Walking down the polished floor at work earlier this week, a strange noise filled the hallway.

It was the faint sound of my footsteps — nothing more. That may seem like an obvious observation, but given that I was wearing a pair of brown leather shoes, the near silence was a relief.

I got a new pair shoes last weekend, and the quiet walk came during the first day I wore them. The pair they replaced were similar — a different brand and 12 years older, but from a short distance you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference by looking. But your ears would know.

This older pair, which served me valiantly through the years, had one major flaw. The soles would let off a high squeaking noise on any hard floor with the least bit of polish to it. Imagine submerging your shoes in a puddle and walking inside without wiping your feet. That’s what they sounded like at all times — wet or dry.

So it’s nice to now be able to walk without thinking people are judging me to be a delinquent who can’t wipe his feet and without making everyone start to wonder how it could be raining when the weather’s nice.

Out with the old, in with the new

Buying the new shoes was a fun experience. Since I’ve (still) spent more of my working life in the retail footwear industry than anything else, it’s odd to be on the other side of that experience. Little things like being allowed to actually sit down on the benches feel wrong. I even find myself tucking wayward laces into the display shoes and straightening them on the shelves as I walk by.

I wonder if anyone else in retail, or with that background, catches themselves doing those things without thinking, or is compelled to inform the sales associate of their connection to the business. Of course I found a perfectly normally place in our conversation to slip that in — because I’m smooth like that — and it actually set off a whole round of dorky shoe technology talk that I kind of miss from my selling days.

What I miss more is working just down the hall from a Cinnabon and a Taco Bell. Though for the sake of my health, maybe it’s a good thing I don’t work in that mall anymore.

By cjhannas Cinnabon mall shoes Uncategorized
18 Aug

Timber-Land

In journalism classes, we learned there are very rare occasions when you can start a story with a quote. I do not remember any guidance on starting with a picture, but in all fairness, that was long before the explosion of the blogosphere.

The picture is of one of the shoes I wore to work last night. That might not seem that consequential in itself, but they may be the oldest shoes in my vast footwear collection.

Back in roughly 2000, every male I knew had a pair of shoes like these — some sort of dull brown leather with black soles. They said, “Hey, I’m a little nicer than running shoes, but I’m also no dress shoe.” Apparently that was the message to send with your footwear at the time.

I got mine at Galyan’s, where I worked in the shoe department. With the Timberlands being on sale and an employee discount at my disposal, this has to be the best value in my collection as well. I don’t think I paid more than $30, and we are at 10 years and counting.

I remember at first being concerned about the little scuffs that developed on the front of the shoes. But then I realized I’m clumsy and accepted the scuffs as a fact of my footwear life.

By cjhannas fashion shoes Uncategorized
11 Aug

Get Two Beers and Jump

By now you have surely heard about the JetBlue flight attendant who had a run-in with a passenger, cursed out everyone on board and slid down the emergency slide to instant fame.

Of course he also grabbed two beers on his way out of the plane, leading to this touching tribute last night from Jimmy Fallon. His song “Get Two Beers and Jump” should definitely catch on as a way of describing any moment where you just say “@$#% it, I’m done with this.” (Also note that half of the crowd can’t clap on beat, some not even close).

Having spent a number of years in the service industry, I must say I don’t for a second fault this guy. It doesn’t matter how patient you are, there are days that the public seems united in a quest to frustrate you as much as possible.

When I worked for a certain shoe brand franchise, we had a program that allowed podiatrists to give us a “prescription” of a customer’s footwear needs. The customer got 10 percent off their purchase if they had one of the slips, and we got a clear idea of what they needed. The system was tremendously helpful since most people would come back from their doctor and only vaguely describe what they were supposed to be looking for.

One customer didn’t understand the system. We needed the slip to send back to the parent company in order to get reimbursed for the discount. He didn’t get that we needed one every time he bought shoes.

I did not like this man (call him Will), but fortunately he usually dealt with one of the other managers. That is, until the other manager — also named Chris — left the company. That meant that every time this guy called and asked for Chris, I had to help him.

The first time, I think I spent at least half an hour on the phone trying to explain the system and why I couldn’t just give him the discount. It’s not like I didn’t want to help people, but if you make my life difficult you are much less likely to get a hand.

Those who have worked in retail, especially in management, know that there are thousands of ways you can give people discounts. College student who could get a more expensive shoe if you give them a break? Senior citizen discount! Fifty-year-old who served in the Army 20 years ago? Active duty discount! A really nice customer right after someone who demanded the world? Well imagine that, a coupon from the health fair we went to last weekend!

Will went for more of the entitlement route, expecting us to just give him the discount because he felt he deserved it. At the end of that loooong first call, he demanded to speak to our corporate office in D.C. One problem — the corporate office was in Delaware, and if you know me at all you understand that this led to another 10 minute conversation about that very fact. In the end, he got the number to one of our stores in D.C., and I later got a call from the manager of that store wondering why I had unleashed that hell on his day.

I last worked at that store in July of 2007, and if you want to read some blogs written out of pure frustration I recommend the period beginning around the fall of 2005.

A few choice entries:

Listen Up

Um, Do I Know You?

Depository Please Receptacle of Man

Now That’s a Good Question

Please Make it Stop

Oh For the Love of Pete

Enjoy.

By cjhannas shoes Uncategorized
30 Jun

Six Years Ago Today

Today is a pretty big day for me. It is my 30th consecutive day of blogging, the last day at my part-time video job and the sixth anniversary of a great relationship with Altima.

Of course, Altima is my car, which I bought on this day in 2004. When I rolled off the lot, the car had a whopping nine miles on the odometer, most of which came during my test drive. I remember the instant peace of mind that came from trading in my dying 1993 Pontiac Grand Am for the gleaming Nissan goodness.

Here’s what I looked like that day in my family’s standard driveway car picture:

Note the tucked-in blue polo and khaki shorts, which indicate that I was either on my way to or from a shift selling shoes at Galyan’s. My brother’s red SUV with 18 bajillion miles on it is down at the street.

Strangely enough, all of my life journeys since that day six years ago have covered exactly 49,994 miles. I was doing a lot of math on my way to work yesterday trying to see if there was any chance I would get home today at the 50,000 mark. I think this is pretty close (remember I started at 00009):

During the past six years I moved six times, lived in four states (Pennsylvania, Virginia, Maryland, Florida), had six employers, was called a nerd on live TV (for my Rubik’s skillz, thanks Rebecca!), ran a marathon and three half marathons, owned two different cell phones and two different laptops, attended five family weddings (cousin, aunt, brother, sister, cousin), and ate countless meals at Taco Bell.

Altima also acquired two bees in that span of time. They are both located in the bottom left corner of the back window, just an inch or so apart. Strangely though, one of them has been there since the first week I owned the car and the other just appeared sometime last year.

You can’t quite see them here, but they are just below the stickers:

A closer look at the peacefully resting bees:

I tried several times to get the first one (left) out with a vacuum and other implements, but to no avail. At this point, they are really a part of the car’s ambiance. I mean, if things get lonely on a road trip I can always talk to the bees.

That brings the June Blogoganza to a close. Hopefully someone enjoyed me posting that much, though I apologize for the days I clearly had nothing to write about (and wanted dearly to skip). Definitely not writing anything tomorrow, so you’ll just have to occupy yourself with the archives. Hasta luego.

By cjhannas car family home nostalgia shoes Uncategorized
26 Mar

Seeing the Past

The first register was open. Well, almost open; an older woman was swiping her credit card as the cashier bagged her last item.

I walked over and put my items on the belt–some dishwasher detergent, toilet paper and some picture frames. It was a pretty ordinary trip to Target. As the cashier handed the receipt to the woman, I saw his face and was instantly taken back to the year 2000. Back then this Target hadn’t been built yet, but I worked just down the street at a sporting goods store.

I worked there long enough to have dozens of coworkers, most of whom I would never expect to see again. I probably can’t even remember a lot of their names. The Target cashier today was wearing a name tag, but I didn’t need to look at it. I would remember Jim (not his actual name) 20 years from now. There was no reminiscing about our old days, however brief they were, and I am fairly certain he didn’t recognize me.

I can imagine that a lot of people would find it odd to not mention that we used to work together, but the dynamic of our past really says otherwise. At the time I was a 17-year-old kid selling shoes for a little pocket money and to fill some hours of my week. I didn’t necessarily need a job, but it seemed like a good way to spend 20 hours a week. There were other kids there too, some from my high school and a bunch of others who went to other schools around the area. The managers were older, a few of them in college and the rest from the older set who had chosen retail as their long-term career.

And then there were the adults who worked alongside the kids on the sales floor. This wasn’t exactly a novel situation in our store, but rather one you can pick out in just about any retail situation. Everyone has a different reason for being there.

The younger set seems like they are always ascending to something else, usually working their way through school and counting down the days until their retail life is over. The job is a stepping stone, a blip on their career radar.

Those just out of college are there as a stop-gap, a temporary gig to pay the bills while they figure out what to do with the rest of their life. It’s not an ideal situation, but what are you going to do? They are still young enough to totally fit in with their younger coworkers, and can even turn into sage advice-givers for those about to dive into the college world.

Then there’s a huge gap to the next set–those who are at least in their mid 30s (though I have worked with several guys in their 60s). The ones in their 30s are in the toughest spot of all. Their story is always a bit sad, you can see it in their eyes as they give you the quick break-the-ice version the first day. A layoff, a couple of kids, just needed some money to get by for a while. You almost feel bad telling them about what you’re doing in school and which college you plan on attending. You know they understand fullwell that they are doing the same job as a high school kid.

That is how I met Jim.

He looks like a cross between actors Stephen Root and Rainn Wilson. My friend Ryan and I used to work in the women’s shoe department with Jim. Ryan and I felt like we sort of ran the show since we spent two years there and usually dominated the sales. We were hustlers (not in a scammer sort of way) who understood a certain system of getting to as many customers as possible while keeping our section clean. That last part was key to going home at a decent hour.

It was clear early on that we were going to have a problem with Jim. Watching him approach customers was always an adventure. He would quietly sidle up to a woman holding a shoe, head tilted down, eyes aimed at the ground like he wanted no part of the interaction. His standard line was, “You want help with that?” in a tone that lacked any semblance of sincerity. It’s hard to imagine anyone was ever extremely confident they were going to get good service.

Miraculously though, he did help a lot of customers. The byproduct of getting to so many people is that you inevitably have a lot of shoe boxes to put away. We called them “drags,” though I have no idea where that term came from. You bring out a shoe and the customer doesn’t want it, it’s your responsibility to put it back. Ryan and I had handled that volume so many times that we instinctively just put away a few shoes everytime we went to get a new one. That customer had to wait an extra minute, but it meant that we weren’t left with a big stack at the end of the day.

Jim didn’t work that way. He used more of a pile system. He would usually get his customers onto adjacent benches and perform a day-long dance that would look to an outsider like he was trying to build a shoe fort. Every eschewed pair of shoes would go back in its box, and then get stacked on all the others. If we said something to Jim the piles would disappear from the sales floor…only to reappear in the stockroom. By the end of the day there might be 100 boxes that needed to be put away. Each one had Jim’s sales sticker on it. Since we had some sort of teamwork concept, we all had to stay and help put the shoes away. It didn’t matter how many department meetings we had, or private exhortations about the stacks, the same thing happened day after day.

Jim wasn’t a bad guy, he just didn’t get the system. But then again, he had a lot going on in his life. I remember that he also had a part-time job with the county as a snowplow driver whenever we happened to get any snow. There were a few kids in the picture and a wife who seemed to call his cell phone 20 times a day. He wasn’t exactly integrated into the group of kids who went out for a slice of pizza after work.

That was 10 years ago. Just as the kids are always talking about their next move, the guys like Jim have other plans. They seem to know a guy who is going to get them a job doing something in their former field, or at least something better. And so I would have hoped for nothing else for Jim. Even being a retail manager after college wasn’t exactly the highlight of my life, so I can’t imagine having to be an hourly salesman at his stage in life.

That look in their eyes doesn’t disappear with time–it gets deeper. With each day, each month, there’s an increasing feeling of despair you can feel. There’s nothing you can do as the kid to make it go away.

So there I was at Target today, with Jim ringing up my items. He had the look. As much as I would like to know what happened between our sales floor and the Target register, Jim wouldn’t want to tell me. There’s nothing the least bit wrong with any of those jobs, and having been there myself I have the utmost respect. But the look says it’s not what you want, not what you hoped for. Some of the fight is gone from you.

Jim lived through the last 10 years–he doesn’t need to do it again to make small talk with one of the kids.

By cjhannas shoes Uncategorized
05 Nov

Remember Remember My Former Employer

I have worked for seven different companies in my life (not counting internships for which I was not paid).

Today I learned that yet another of my former employers has apparently closed, making it the third to do so.

My first job was as a house painter, working for my uncle during the summer before my junior year of high school. He moved onto other things shortly thereafter.

Once the school year started I began selling shoes at Galyan’s, a sporting goods store that was bought out by Dick’s in 2005. I worked there until the very end, though at that point I was only working during college breaks.

When I was at school, I started working for UWIRE, which apparently shut down last month. It was a college newspaper wire service that served as probably the greatest job I have ever had.

I began there as a story enterer — basically working 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. each morning copying and pasting articles from college newspaper websites into our newswire system. I’d assign them to different categories depending on their content, though I mainly handled sports for my first semester.

Even with the hours, it was awesome. I would make a half-awake walk from my dorm, across the railroad tracks, and through a completely deserted campus center to the 24-hour computer lab on the lower level. The only people I saw were those who had tried to cram in a paper at 4 a.m. and had fallen asleep in the lab, and the custodial staff who took that opportunity to vacuum the carpet.

Being in such a quiet environment so early in the day even led me to buy my iPod to help stay awake. I’m proud to report I still have it.

The next semester I moved up to an editor position. That meant taking the stories entered by folks in my former position, conforming the text to our style and giving each story an appropriate headline. Then I would send the story off into the world.

That was the truly great job. It meant working for 4-5 hours a day from my dorm room, which included easy access to the TV next to my monitor and the mini fridge a few feet away. My roommate, Jon, worked there too. We even had a sign on our door proclaiming our room as the UWIRE Selinsgrove Bureau.

I’m not sure our boss was aware that Jon and I knew each other, let alone worked four feet away. I think there were only four or five student editors, so it should have seemed odd that two of them were from the same tiny school in Pennsylvania.

But then again, our boss did live and work in California. Our only contact was through emails (that’s how we clocked in and out) or the occasional IM (for more pressing questions). She was also known to use the word “rad” a lot, which is always a great quality in a boss.

The other advantage of not working in an actual office — being able to spring from your desk to check out the amazing play in NHL2K2 out in the lounge that has the rest of your suitemates screaming.

There was also an arts section, whose editor frequently sent out opportunities to write original stories — mostly reviews of books or music. I wrote a review about a book by filmmaker Joe Berlinger, which recounted his experience making a documentary about Metallica. It was during this time I was making my own documentary about our college newspaper, and oddly picked up some perfectly timed insight about my own project.

When I went on to graduate school, I went back to being an enterer. After the fall semester I wasn’t able to fit it into my schedule anymore and had to bid farewell to UWIRE.

What a rad time.

By cjhannas shoes Uncategorized writing
05 Nov

Orange You Glad

It’s always nice to achieve long-term goals.

In March, I ran a half-marathon in Washington, D.C., in a time of 1:49:45. That was 15 seconds better than my goal, and I was happy.

I planned to focus on shorter distances for the summer, try to set a new 5K personal best, and see if I could make a run at a 1:45 half-marathon in November.

The 5K record fell in my first attempt in June, followed by a blazing new 4-miler record in July.

I woke up on Sunday in rainy, windy Raleigh thinking I might be able to get close to 1:45, but would at least beat my time from March. I ran with my sister-in-law, Bethany, for the first seven miles (we had the same goal time). Through 7, we were about 25 seconds behind that pace.

As the rain fell even harder, I broke away, finishing with miles of 7:46, 7:44, 7:51, 7:42, 7:18(!) and 7:40. Add that all up (plus the 34 seconds to cover the final .1 miles) and I came in at 1:43:08.

Needless to say, I was pretty happy with that outcome as evidenced by one of the photos here. Note that I look somewhat miserable during the others, and one is clearly not me.

Of course I need to give credit where it’s due — to my awesome orange shoes. So far this year they have been on my feet for four races, all of which were new personal records.

Next up, a Turkey Trot 5K on November 21. Can the orange shoes go 5-for-5 in 2009?

By cjhannas running shoes Uncategorized
20 Jul

Party Like It’s 1999

What have you done for the past 10 years? I don’t mean cumulatively, but rather some action you have done at least once a year since 1999.

Eating doesn’t count. Nor does breathing or buying socks. Well, if you have some sort of ritual wherein you buy a new pair of socks each March 27, I’ll count that.

For me, it has been selling shoes. Each year since from 1999 to 2008 I sold at least one pair of shoes to another individual while working at a retail store. That string looks incredibly long now that I write it, but I assure you it feels even longer.

But 2009 should be the end of the road. I stopped working at my last retail gig back in July 2007, but ended up working one day last year in sort of a freelance capacity. Due to my incredible skill–not to mention charm–I couldn’t help but make the most of that one day and make a sale.

We’re a long way from August of ’99, when as a kid about to enter his junior year of high school I signed on to peddle athletic and rugged footwear at an awesome store called Galyan’s. Those of you familiar with Dick’s Sporting Goods will know sort of what the store looked like (Dick’s bought Galyan’s in 2004). But Galyan’s was a much higher-quality store and gave me what ended up being a pretty easy way to extort a lot of money from a lot of people in the Northern Virginia area. I mean, um, to help lots of people by identifying their needs and matching one of our products to fit their budget as well. Yeah.

Then in 2005 it was off to New Balance where the real fun began. And by fun I mean utilizing my master’s degree by selling shoes and finding ways to pass boredom-filled hours in Tysons Corner Center. You’ll have to consult the archives for the real flavor of this time in my life. Stories about or related to my time there definitely dominate the 2006-07 portion of my writing. From a purely content perspective, I should still be working there.

But I digress.

It was upon leaving that job for a TV producing gig in Florida that the following year (2008 for those of you scoring at home) was declared to be “totally SHOE-FREE.” At least, that was according to a Christmas card from one of my friends:

Unfortunately, while visiting my brother in Raleigh, N.C., I got pressed into helping out at a wonderful little store called Raleigh Running Outfitters. It was there that 2008 lost its “SHOE-FREE” status, never to be regained again.

In 2009, I have remained strong. While I have worn many shoes, I have not tried to measure anyone’s feet, lace up their shoes or even offer much footwear-related advice. It’s tough not being intimitely involved in the feet of complete strangers. Or maybe it’s glorious, hard to say really.

Here’s to lasting a few more months without a nametag around my neck or a shoebox in my hand, and finding something more productive to do for the next 10 years.

By cjhannas shoes Uncategorized