The Shoes of Entitlement

At 29, I had developed a certain flair for managing life’s little annoyances—at least, that’s what I told myself. One day, I found myself in a situation that tested this self-proclaimed expertise.

It all started when I was out shopping for a new pair of shoes. I had my eye on a particular brand, and after much searching, I finally found the perfect pair. The problem? They were the last ones in my size, and another shopper had her eye on them too.

Now, any rational 29-year-old might have gracefully stepped aside, perhaps even striking up a friendly conversation about shared tastes in footwear. But at that moment, rationality took a backseat to my sense of entitlement. After all, I’d been 29 for nearly a whole year, and if that didn’t entitle me to the last pair of shoes in my size, what did?

So, with a polite smile that barely concealed my determination, I grabbed the shoes and made my way to the cashier. The other shopper, a woman around my age, looked taken aback, but I was too focused on my prize to notice.

As I reached the checkout, I started to feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe it was the way the cashier glanced at me, or perhaps it was the memory of countless shopping trips where I’d been on the losing end of similar situations. But did I turn back? Not a chance. I completed the purchase, shoes in hand, and walked out of the store with a sense of triumph—albeit one tinged with a slight unease.

The universe, however, has a way of keeping things in balance. Later that day, I decided to wear my new shoes out for a walk, proud of my acquisition. But as soon as I stepped outside, it started to rain. Not a light drizzle, mind you, but a full-on downpour. My new shoes, which were perfect for everything except wet weather, quickly became waterlogged and uncomfortable. By the time I got home, they were ruined.

The lesson? At 29, entitlement might get you what you want, but it doesn’t guarantee happiness—or dry feet. And while the consequences were soggy and squishy, they served as a reminder that sometimes, it’s better to share life’s little pleasures—or at least consider the forecast before stepping outside in brand-new shoes.