Mr Shoeshine

Now, I don't profess to know much about anything. But I do know that shoe-shining is a noble profession. My Daddy did it, and his Daddy did it, and his Daddy did it, and so on and so forth up the family tree.

In fact, now that I think about it, I don't think any man in the family wasn't shining shoes for a living. And we're pretty damn good at it, too, I'll tell you that.

People would come from miles away just to have their shoes shined by my old man. 'Mr Shoeshine' they called him. Best spit shine this side of the West Coast. Hell, best shoe shine anywhere. Period. And for good reason, too.

See, it's not about shining shoes. It's about creating an experience. You can't make a gent sit down for fifteen minutes and have nothing but a pair of shiny shoes to show for it. It'll be the shiniest pair of shoes they've ever seen, for sure, but that ain't good enough when you're already the best.

"Do you know what we do, boy?

"We shine shoes, Dad."

"What?! Hell, no, son! We don't shine shoes. Look at all these people dressed in they suits and they greased up hair. Each and everyone of 'em needs to wear they shoes. You don't earn the big bucks if you ain't got the proper shoes, see? Where they be at today, whether it be they a banker or a lawyer or all o' that, they owe it to us. 'Coz we make 'em look good. 'Coz we shine they shoes."

So when it came my turn to pick up the old brush and cloth, I'll tell you, I couldn't have been prouder. Imagine. Me. Son of Mr Shoeshine carrying on the family business. Sitting in the chair next to him with my kit, calling out to gents that pass by.

My Daddy he told me that sometimes you got to insult them a little bit, you know? Make them feel small because their shoes ain't as polished as the other gents'. Even if they don't stop right then, you know that you got it in their heads. And sooner or later they're going to figure it out. They're going to stop dead in their tracks and think to themselves, "Damn, I need to get my shoes shined."

They could be in their office drinking coffee or sitting in the middle of a meeting or in a cab or walking their dog. It don't matter. That gent you called out to three days ago because you were doing your job right the way I taught you, he's going to drop whatever it is that he was doing, and he's going to think about getting his shoes shined. Guaranteed.

"And who do you think they gonna come to, boy?"

"Why, Mr Shoeshine, of course!"

"Mr Shoeshine? Who that be? Don't be playin' wit your ol' man now, you hear?"

"That's you, Dad! Ain't no one shines a shoe like you do!"

And my old man, he'd look at me sideways from under his lucky hat, look up into the sky with his lower lip turned up, smile that half smile like he always do and say the words that made him sound like he owned the world, "Damn straight."

But that was thirty-five years ago. Dad's gone now and I sit here by myself in the corner with my polishing cloth slung over my shoulder, calling out to gents, just like he taught me.

These days though, people don't like to be sitting down waiting for you to shine their shoes. Gents now, they're rich. If their shoes get muddy or something they could just go out and buy a new pair. Heck, they could buy one everyday if they wanted. And those that ain't rich... well, I... I don't know how to shine sneakers.

People these days got places to go, people to meet. Ain't no time for stopping no more. Ain't no time for a little conversation.

It's a pity, too, because I've gotten pretty good at talking about anything and everything. Used to be you meet a lot of people at the corner. Paperboys calling out the headlines, guy at the news stand could spare a minute or two to tell you about stuff happening in the world. I think about it now and it was surprising how much information I got looking down at shoes all day.

"Keep yer eyes and ears open, son. Someday, someone is goin' to come up and tell you somethin' that'll make you rich."

But these days no one even looks at the shoe shine guy. It's like... It's like you doing me a favor if you sit down, you know? It's like novelty. Like a tourist attraction.

I think about how it is now and how it was then, and I think to myself, "Damn, Dad, things have changed so much."

Used to be we were shining shoes all day. Used to be we'd go home with our hands red and sore from all the brushing. Used to be we couldn't walk straight because our pants leg were always full of change.

These days, I just sit on my chair, twiddling my thumbs waiting for someone to think about how their shoes are gonna take 'em far. And hopefully they'll find me sitting in our corner, waiting for them to show up.

"Hey."

"Yes, sir? Need your shoes shined today, sir? Seems to me like you need it."

"'You Mr Shoeshine?"

"No, sir. That honor belongs to my dad. Best spit shine in the business."

"Really? My dad used to talk about a Mr Shoeshine who used to sit right here on this corner."

"If you don't mind me asking, sir. Did your dad have the shiniest shoes you've ever seen?"

And I saw this man stop for a moment. I saw him look down at my shoes and at the other shoes that passed by just that second. He looked at his own shoes last of all then out into the distance. He was thinking. And he cocked his head a little to the left, squinted and let his forehead wrinkle up as he nodded slightly.

"Why, yes. Yes, he did."

And I stood up, whipped off my cloth from my shoulder with a flourish and dusted my chair off for the gent to sit on.

"Damn straight."

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i've met and saw more interesting people in Las Vegas this past week than i have my whole life in Singapore. and to think i almost didn't want to go.