This morning I took my ancient Greek sandals to a shoe repair place. By "ancient Greek" I mean, I got them in Athens in 1998. Last year I wore through the stitching that holds the sole together, and this week I finally decided to do something about it. I took them to a shop I've walked by many, many times, next to the Silver Spring metro. It turns out the owner is from El Salvador and knows how to say "How are you?" in Greek. (I was like, uh, I don't speak Greek. I was there on vacation.)
So I ask him how much it's going to cost to stitch up the one sandal, clean the leather, and fix the worn heels. And he turns the sandals over in his hands, hmmms, haws, and says 20 bucks. And I say, come on, the shoes only *cost* 20 bucks. And he says ten. And I say fine. And he says, no, you know what, I'll do it for free.
So tomorrow I will pick up my repaired sandals. I guess now I have to be a loyal customer of this shoe guy. He'd better do a good job.
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3 comments:
He's a tough negotiator!
There's a small shoe repair shop that I used to ride by when I lived at a place that isn't the place I live at now. It's sad to see outdated businesses clinging on to keep their doors open.
Whoa, you run the hard bargain. Remind me to take you next time I buy a car.
I want to go to Greece.
I'm wearing the sandals now, and I must say I've seen better shoe work. But I can't complain about the price.
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