Why do people shoe shop with smelly feet?

I wanted to build on my last blog post about A Jack of All Trades and explore some of the odd jobs I had and maybe understand why and how all of those trades have contributed to the person I have become.

My very first job was at Arden Fair Mall. Before it became the big behemoth it is today, it was just a regular 80s mall, and I worked at a shoe store, Thom McAn. I don’t think they’re around anymore, another 80s relic.

A few things stick with me from that job. Customers would pick out a shoe, tell us a size, we’d go in the back and get that shoe they wanted and bring out one other style and an athletic pair, we were asked to upsell, I suppose I don’t think I ever was able to sell beyond what they asked for. This was the age of putting that stool thing where the customer rested their feet on and we helped them put the shoe on, no one does this anymore, I don’t know why.

Here's the thing about helping people try on shoes: most wore socks, or we had try-on socks—that's what we called them—in case they didn't have a pair on. We'd take out a shoe horn if needed and help them into the shoe. For the most part, people came prepared and it went well. Every so often, someone would come in and I swear they must've just come from a workout because their feet smelled sour. Of course, we had to stay professional — we worked on commission.

I recall also, we were always paid in cash. On payday we'd gather, get shown a ledger with our gross pay and what was taken out in taxes, get copies of everything, then handed our pay — in cash. It felt transparent, even if it meant a trip to the bank.

These days I set up direct deposit for our team at the Daly City bakery. Different system, same principle — people want to understand their pay, see the breakdown, know what's happening with their money. I remember what that felt like from the other side of the counter.

I didn't think about Thom McAn when I signed the papers to take over my aunt's bakery in Daly City. But the first time I worked the counter, watching customers come in, reading who wanted to chat and who just wanted their pastry, keeping things moving while making people feel welcome — I realized I'd done this before.

Retail is retail. Service is service. Whether you're helping someone find the right shoe or the right loaf of bread, you're reading people, making them comfortable, handling their money, their trust.

Turns out learning to kneel in front of strangers with smelly feet wasn't about photography at all. It was about learning to serve people without judgment. And a bakery? That's just service with better smells.