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I had occasion to go the bank yesterday. We got off work a little bit early, and I decided I needed to move some money around. This time, I made sure I was cleaned up, looking halfway presentable, and wearing heels. I chose burgundy colored pants to go with burgundy Carressa mary janes. I considered wearing some super stiletto-y Steve Madden pumps, but thought the mary janes were a better choice for what I was trying to accomplish, which was to talk to the bank lady about heels. I entered the bank with my paperwork in hand, looked around for an open teller (and the high heeled bank lady), and soon a teller called me across the lobby to her counter. No sign of the bank lady. Figures. I went on about my business with the teller, and the next thing I knew, there was this person standing right next to me, which just goes to show that you can't always be situationally aware unless you make a constant effort to be. The person who sneaked up on me was the bank lady, and she said, "I don't mean to bother you, but your shoes are incredibly cute. I heard someone walking across the lobby who sounded just like me, and I had to see who it was. I'm glad it wasn't just somebody wearing cowboy boots, and WHERE DID YOU GET THOSE SHOES?" Whoa! That was not at all how I figured this was going to go down. You would think that after what, 12 or 13 years of this that I'd be perfectly comfortable with this sort of encounter. I did manage to get out my line that it was indeed heartwarming to see someone out there who still wears heels besides me. Mind you, this is all right up there at the counter in front of the teller who was helping me. So as it turns out, bank lady wears heels every single day and loves wearing them, and the rest of the people at the bank think she's crazy. I think she was glad to have someone else tell her coworkers that heels don't necessarily have to hurt at all. I don't think we gained much traction on that assertion. After the transaction was over, I went over to the bank lady's desk (I still don't know her name), and we talked about shoes for another five minutes or so. Her boots on this day were nothing very special, they were plain black with slim (not stiletto) 4 inch heels. She said she had most of her extensive shoe collection already packed away for the move. Move? Now for the bad news. This interaction will never happen again. Evidently, today (Wednesday) is her last day at the bank. I asked her where she was going to, and she said that her husband had gotten a new job in a town about 75 miles away, and that they would be moving there. I know the town reasonably well, and we talked about her impending move. I wished her well and departed. It's not really a big deal, but that's exactly my luck. I'm going to be the only one again. Sigh. At least you won't have to read any more stories about the bank lady, and I know for sure she doesn't think I'm a creep for liking her shoes.