New heels: One girl's sole-searching story

Dan I spent close to nine hours yesterday afternoon going through bills, organizing our finances, making a budget, and avoiding divorce by the skin of our teeth. We spread everything out on the kitchen table, armed ourselves with calculators and three-hole punchers and had at it. Three years from now---barring the purchase of a house, car or any unforeseen circumstances (which means the inevitable)---we intend to be debt-free. I have to say, I do appreciate the display tables the credit cards companies are legally obligated to print on your bill now that show that if you send only the minimum payment every month, your credit card debt will follow you to the grave and ultimately cost you double. They also show you what amount you need to pay (and how much less you will end up doling out) if you want to take care of the debt in three years. Holla atcha Federal Reserve. So while Sunday was not a funday (we even watched an Oprah debt-diet episode during our food break in order to stay focused) we got 'er done. We've been paying pretty aggressively for a while but it helps to have a plan. Plus, we were paying so aggressively that we weren't leaving ourselves much room to engage in the kind of careless, childless semi-newlywed frivolity that we hope to look back on fondly someday when we resent each other and are drowning in responsibility. In short, we wanted to have a little more fun now even if it means paying things off in three years versus two. (Oh, Suze Orman, forgive me!)

This particular month (July) is still going to be tight so I'm reining it in. In fact, we're heading to Cape Cod later this week to log some beach time with my siblings at a house Bec and Jeff rented (nice of them to invite us to their vacation, eh?) and I'm not getting a spray tan before we go. (If we weren't sure we were in a depression before....) Despite the fact that a spa nearby is running a killer deal in which they're offering five sessions for $100 (you never see a $20 full-body spray anymore and it feels almost wasteful to not take advantage of it), I will not be participating. I've got my $8 tube of Jergens Natural Glow and it's gonna have to hold me.

Impressed with my restraint, aren't you?

So, you'll understand when I tell you that after yesterday's death march through our finances and our declarations that we would stick to the necessities this month, I woke up this morning and ordered a new pair of shoes.

Okay, hear me out. I should (and do) feel guilt for making this purchase but not for the reason you're thinking. Let me preface this by saying, I am not a big shopper. I usually do some staple shopping about twice a year with gift certificates my siblings give me for my birthday or at Christmas and when I go I still feel the awful thirst and tiredness that I remember feeling as a kid during back-to-school shopping. An avid shopper of the mall variety, I am not. I am, however, a hunter. I stalk the items I long to covet. I wait and watch for their prices to drop before pouncing and victoriously dragging my purchases back to my den. This, I enjoy. If I didn't like wearing 'em so much, I'd be tempted to mount the Frye boots I bought last summer on my wall.

Recently these shoes (in black and white...though I wish I had the sack for the pink and black) got away from me and I've been hungry ever since. I hesitated and my size got away. (Never hesitate!) So I knew I was going to snag something when I saw that Sofft shoes were being sold on a website I often visit which features great sales of reputable brands but for a limited time and with limited inventory. Some background on Sofft: They're call Sofft, do I really need to explain? Sofft is the brand that taught me that I could wear high heels without contemplating a sex change at the end of the night. I don't support high heel culture and wore a $30 wedge on my wedding day but Sofft taught me that things could be different for me. I can't explain it, and this may be the closest thing to a miracle that I've ever experienced, but Sofft high heels are a goddamned treat. There's cushion and breathing room but not at the expense of sass. (I'm pretty sure the same engineers who created Sofft must be first cousins with the minds behind Hanky Panky, an underwear brand which features---and I can't believe I'm writing this---a comfortable thong.) iPad schmypad, comfy heels are the real feat. It's a division of NASA working on all of this, I'm sure.

So, my inner lioness is delighted to have landed the above shoe, regularly priced at $100, for an out-of-pocket expense of $18.95. But, while they came cheap, they did not come free of cost where my conscience is concerned. The website where I bought the shoes is fab. (It used to be that you could only access the site by invitation from someone who was already a member---which I know sounds ridiculous---but I don't know if that's the case anymore. If you want in, say the word and I'll shoot you an invite.) They let you know in advance what brands will be on sale which include everything everything from Le Creuset cookware to BCBG clothing to expensive jewelry and home furnishing lines to vacation packages at fancy hotels. The sales are only around for a finite time regardless of inventory but you usually see many items run out before the sale is even over.

It's a great site. I'm hesitating to tell you the name of it for reasons you will soon understand.

About two months ago I ordered a Michael Kors shirt and dress (dropping a lot of brand names for a girl who doesn't shop a lot, aren't I?) from this site and days later received only the shirt, though the tracking service said both items had been shipped together and had been delivered. So I called the company (isn't it weird to call a website?) and explained the situation and the lovely girl on the phone apologized and said that she would credit the cost of the dress to my account because this particular "boutique," was now closed (the sale had passed) and they could no longer send the dress. I'm not sure if they ever have actual possession of the merchandise or how it works exactly but I was a little bummed because I was into the dress. Shit happens, though, and I'm easy on that front always, so I was fine with just having the credit issued.

Then, days after that, the dress arrived in a separate package. Now, for weeks following this I kept an eye on my store account and when the credit didn't show up, I figured that they had realized what had happened and worked things out on their end. The issue was resolved as far as I was concerned. I had my dress (which, so we're very clear, I don't love on, haven't worn once and should have returned but didn't) and had rightfully not been issued a credit.

Then...last week I checked out the website and realized I had a $40 credit on there. (The dress was only $29 so I don't even know where they came up with $40.) I found myself faced with a moral dilemma. Was I supposed to use the credit or call to tell them the credit was a mistake? Because, yeah, that's what I need, to make another phone call to a company that answers my call with an automated machine, puts me on hold, transfers me and makes me explain myself 17 times to every representative to whom I get tossed around. (Though, I have to admit, I specifically remember getting off the phone when I called initially about the dress and thinking, "That was easy. Finally a company where you can talk to the person who picks up the phone and be done with it.) Still, even now I have phone calls I need to make to the Apple Care Center and a credit card company plus I have clothes at the dry cleaner's that have been there for over a month. I don't need another task on my ever-growing to-do list.

Am I rationalizing here?

By now, I think you've figured out the choice I made. (See why I can't tell you the website? What if one of you tell? What if a fraction of my rabid fanbase is comprised of employees of this particular website? What if the prosecutor uses this entry as evidence and wants to call one of you as a witness? I've watched enough Law and Order to know that I don't want to burden you with the truth. They won't even be able to beat it out of you if they try.) (Your welcome.)

So, I guess my question is---and I really want the truth---what would you have done? Would you have called? Am I a thief? Is this why the terrorists hate us? Is this an example of our corrupt western values? (Or just mine?) Really, I want to know:

Would you have made a different choice? Why or why not? (Please double-space and leave one-inch margins.)

I'm still not sure of my decision. I'm still not sure if I will be able to sleep tonight with this on my conscience (or, if the fact that I can sleep with this on my conscience will be the thing that will keep me up).

I do know one thing for certain though. In fact, I know this to my very core. I will undoubtedly take a gigantic, nasty, knee-skinning digger while wearing these shoes as karmic retribution. In fact, I'll probably be debuting the dress at the time and it will flip up revealing my ass (and my very comfortable thong) to the world. Hopefully, Dan and I will be having fun with all our extra money when it happens.