In Cahoots with the Boots.

Superstore was crazy busy today.

I didn't have many items, and had I known how long the lineups were I wouldn't even have stopped.

I took my items to the "16 items or less" express checkout and stopped in my tracks. The line-up was about 1/3 of the way down one of the aisles. I momentarily contemplated brushing off my convictions and actually going to a selfcheckout. But nope. I just couldn't do it. (Probably more out of stubborness than anything, but I refuse to participate in this utter lack of customer service.)

I scanned all the 'also long' regular lineups and factored in who the cashiers were (I can be rather judgemental like that, but I've become fairly adept at choosing who is gonna move their line quickly and who is gonna have to call for a manager or price check for every second customer.) I took my half dozen items to till 7 with the middle-aged woman with red hair and stepped into the long, but shorter than express, lineup behind a couple also carrying a basket with just a few items.

As we were waiting in line I checked out her footwear. Which is something I almost always do in a lineup or a waiting room. I read once that (while people-watching) you can tell more about a person by their footwear than just about anything else. At the time I sort of scoffed at the notion, but have never forgotten it. And over the years, I've come to think it's rather true.

This woman had on a spectacular pair of blue boots. I'd never seen them before.

"I wonder if they are Riekers?" I thought. And instead of just complimenting her on her boots and asking her, I then proceded to carry on a full conversation in my head.

"Maybe they aren't $200 Riekers, maybe they are $400 AS98's."

"Y'know they could be some sort of $89 Walmart knock-offs."

So I proceded to judge her clothing by brand name and check out her husband's shoes (which were Merrells) and decide they were probably Riekers.

"Yes!" I thought.

I got a rather sizable GC to Walk Rite Shoes from my hubby for Christmas. "I think tomorrow while JimE is playing hockey I'll go on a shoe date with myself and see what they have in stock for boots. Maybe they will even be on sale."

And with that decision, my mood brightened and waiting in line didn't seem so bad.

I got home and put my groceries away, got supper started and decided to sit down and catch up on social media on my phone.

I opened Facebook read a couple of posts before the first "sponsored" ad scrolled across my feed:

What the ??!?!!... "No!" I exclaimed. "Just No!"

Which got my husband's attention. "What?"

"Look at this ad on my Facebook feed!!" (I can promise you I have never seen it before. Trust me, I'd remember.)

I proceded to tell him my Superstore experience.

"Did you talk to her about her boots?" he asked. We've both become a little suspect of our devices listening to us to produce their algorithms in recent years.

"No. I did not say anything out loud. The entire conversations took place in my head. I didn't even sneakily snap a photo." (Which I've been known to do.)

Weird.

But I'm pretty stoked that I was able to call them out as Riekers.