“I’m putting you in the hosiery section tomorrow for a few weeks, Andrew.”
Andrew had worked selling shoes in Barrington’s for seven years. A large department store, Barrington’s had a bit of everything. He liked his job. The pay wasn’t great, but his colleagues were friendly and the customers were generally decent.
Cleaning up one Thursday after the last customers had left, the floor manager, Ella, approached him.
“Lisa has to take some time off, so I need you to cover for her” she told Andrew.
“Okay” he replied, his heart beating faster.
She thanked him before leaving him to finish tidying up. “Hosiery!” Andrew thought to himself. Lisa helped curate the hosiery department and nothing excited Andrew more than the thought of immersing himself in that corner of the store. Andrew had often dreamed of asking for a transfer to hosiery, but was worried that it would seem odd to ask. It wasn’t that he disliked selling shoes, he didn’t. But soon after he began working at Barrington’s, he realised something. He loved to see a woman wearing tights or stockings. As he crouched down to help customers try on the shoes, he couldn’t help looking at their legs. It became disappointing to him when they wore jeans or trousers.
Andrew often thought that some might consider him a pervert. He liked to see himself as a connoisseur. There was something truly elegant about a leg clad in tights or stockings. He viewed himself as old-fashioned in that regard. He loved the shine of the hosiery. The smooth look and how the tights clung to the leg. He’d even tried wearing them himself, but it wasn’t the same as seeing them on someone else.
The excitement made it difficult to sleep. He couldn’t wait to start his day in hosiery. The morning finally came and he hurried to work, bright and early. Janet, the supervisor in hosiery, greeted him before asking him to go up to the stockroom to fetch a delivery. Andrew was only happy to oblige. The stockroom was dark, making it difficult to see the contents of the boxes. He excitedly fished around, acquired the delivery boxes and returned to the floor. He set about removing each packet and placing it carefully, almost reverently, on the rack.
Since it was nearly winter, there was a steady stream of customers buying new tights. Andrew was in his element, advising women on the best tights for their needs. He was pleased to see quite a few opting for Wolford’s. He told customers they might be expensive, but they were made to last.
At the end of the first day, Andrew had a sense of satisfaction that selling shoes never gave him. He wondered if there was a way of asking for a transfer that wouldn’t seem odd. He couldn’t give this up. At last, he felt he was where he belonged. He’d found his calling.