In the late ’80’s I gave a series of speaking seminars to bankers in Victoria, Texas. That’s south of Houston – waaay south of Houston. In those days, South Texas had so much oil and gas money, they didn’t know what to do with it – so they hired me. They wanted to learn presentations from a “fast-talking, New York Jew boy” (to them, EVERYONE in New York was fast-talking and Jewish) because they were invited to talk to Wall Street financers and didn’t want to seem like hicks.
I liked these guys and they liked me. In those days, I was making stupid money and spending it stupidly – so I told them before I left Texas, I wanted to buy some real cowboy boots.
“Lucchese!” they just about said in unison, “They’ll measure you up, help you choose the leather, and ship your custom-made boots in a few weeks.”
OK, then! I went to Lucchese, skipped by the snake, ostrich, eel, and turtle leathers – slipped by the color patches of leather and embroidered patterns and settled on your basic black, cowhide, custom-fitted model. The “booter” looked bored. We ambled on back to the measuring room and then I remembered to ask him the price of this fashion statement.
“Three thousand dollars,” he said and continued ambling. I stopped.
“Pardon me – what did you say?”
“Three thousand dollars – including fitting and shipping.” Seeing the stunned look on my face, he said, “But these are Lucchese boots. They’ll last almost a lifetime.”
I remembered my first car cost $600 and lasted 2-years. I could have bought five of the damn things and driven barefoot for the same price for a decade! Then I thought of Rochester winters.
“They might last a lifetime in the dust – but do you know what salt slush can do to them for five months out of a year?”
“Nope,” he said. Now we were both embarrassed – for me.
“I’ll have to think about this,” I said trying to slip him a ten spot for his trouble.
He looked at me like I grew an ostrich head before his eyes.
“Cain’t take that,” he said, amazed.
I quickly left the store.
