I mean, really, how often do you look at a man's shoes?
That famous movie line from that famous voice reverberated inside my skull when the latest passenger started to sing. I looked down, her kicks were simple, black leather with a dirty white orthotic curling up the right ankle, clearly out of step. I'd argue with Stephen King and say that we do check out a human's shoes to learn about the animal in their soul. At least that is how I navigate my time riding the local line. We are a motley crew in the a.m. - the guy with the blond slicked back undercut in brown tweed and tan leather wingtips, whereas the guy with thick dreads hanging down his black trench wears non-descript black soles and taps the beats with eight fingers sporting heavy silver rings. We all seem to honor our driver with hello and good day. It took me two rides but today I think heard a reply. My biking days hang in limbo as Canada shifts our midwest airstream. The bus becomes a lot like any community - it reflects our common goal. We all got a destination. Wingtip dings at the courthouse. Ring man hits the road by human services campus. As for me, if anyone looked, they'd note that the black ankle boots are an aging model and forever scuffed. Thankfully some soul remains as I head up the hill to the golden dome.
If doing an interview I always look at the man’s shoes, Things like scuffed unpolished shoes or no belt or dandruff on his jacket shoulders represent a carelessness and inattention to appearance that spells poor craftsmanship toward work as well. Those 3 things end the interview early.