I think Toms are cool.
And i want to be cool.
So, I have looked at buying a pair of Toms.
Here is the issue:
I go to the Toms website,
I click the pair that i want (the same pair every time),
I pick size 12,
I proceed to checkout,
I enter my billing information,
I enter my shipping information,
I proceed to the final stage.
And then, I check my Facebook.
I just can't bring myself to buy them.
Yeah, its cool and responsible to support little kids in Africa by sending them a pair of shoes while you buy yours.
But, i think it's more responsible to not buy into American consumerism, explaining it away with a "good deed" excuse.
Don't get me wrong, Toms are great. But, Consumerism is not.
And the majority of the people who buy Toms, buy them as an excess pair of shoes.
So here's what the picture looks like:
American gets pair of shoes #10 and African Orphan gets pair of shoes #1
So, while everyone else is being stylish with their Toms and feeling good about themselves for helping orphans in Africa by buying new shoes, i feel good about myself because i wear shoes that i have had for 2 years because i don't need new shoes.
Here's an idea: If you want African Orphans to get a pair of shoes, but don't want to engage in American Consumerism, then you need to click this link. It will direct you to the contact page for TOMS Shoes. Send them an email asking them to add a donation section to their website. Mention my name and give your location so that they recognize our united efforts.
TOMS Shoes are good, but they could be better.
I have written about work before.
I remember making the statement "If you are going to come in near closing time, you should at least talk about something interesting as i clean around you.
The other day, someone did.
It was about 2:30 and i was gathering dishes from above the trash can.
I noticed a peculiar couple sitting at a table for two next to the pile of dirty dishes.
By "peculiar couple," i don't mean a married couple, or even a dating couple.
Rather, it was a couple of gentlemen --one Old and one Young.
They were not father and son.
I could tell by the conversation.
Not only that, but the stark difference in their appearance.
The Young man was in his mid to late 20s. Although he had a receding hair line, as he spoke you could hear disparity in his voice. His sandwich went untouched for several minutes, causing me to linger in gathering in the plates.
The Old man was worn. He had a long beard. Not the kind of beard that resembled Santa Claus, but rather that of a Z Z Top band member, or a sun-baked biker. His teeth were that of an Englishman and his clothes were that of a homeless man. He was the kind of man that you knew had experienced life, and could be seen in the wrinkles on his face.
I half expected this to be an act of pity from a well-to-do twenty something to an aged down-and-outer. Or maybe even a meeting in homeless ministry. But, this was not the case. Instead, the young man began to reveal his heart to the experienced elder, illuminating the issues in his life revolving around a woman.
This woman clearly owned the young man's heart because of the quiver in his voice as he vented to the apparently wise, Old man. The young man complained that the woman did not value his time. That no matter how much time he devoted to her, she was impossible to please. She always wanted more.
The Old man just sat and listened.
The young man continued and continued as i tried not to make my eaves dropping obvious.
The Old man continued to just sit and listen.
I had lingered long enough and had to return to my dish washing post.
When i returned for another sink full, the couple was gone.
