A road paved in burning stones

On my way to work today, I left with plenty of time to wait for an MTA train that will not come on time but not enough so that it would be making local stops. It all translated into me being late –no, I’m not kidding –two minutes late. Lately, improvements are based on a daily basis, and I think some people are starting to notice already. So, instead of praises, they look for loopholes in a seemingly solid structure. Of course, there are many. I intend to bury them in time and walk in here as if the Hand of God had just polished my genuine leather shoes.
Ah, yes. That was another dilemma.
Three days ago, I walked into an Aldo store and bought a really nice pair of shoes with the money I was supposed to pay my cellular-phone bill. That could have been seen as the starting point of a chain of events that left me all worn out questioning the veracity of my judgments. I decided to be bolder and still stricter on my approach. But before I go on to say the implementations taken, let me just give say that after wearing the shoes, I decided that I didn’t want them because they were uncomfortable. The truth is, a day after I bought them, I saw this superior pair of shoes downtown in Century 21 shoe store. So, I thought, with the money I spent on these shoes, I should be able to buy that other pair and still have some money left. My plan didn’t come to fruition. The manager at Aldo’s would not let me have my way but went out of his to offer me the opportunity to select a new pair. He refused to give me a refund. In the course of a civilized but testosterone-oriented deliberation, I countered his arguments. Irrefutably, however, he had the upper-hand. Therefore, I did what any normal human being under those dire circumstances would have done: I defiantly walked out of the store and told him to keep the shoes. He insisted he couldn’t keep them. But I was already on my way out.
I felt so good, I remember. It was that hard-ass feeling people used to have it their way have when they are beat and still manage to make a stance. Even if it meant having seventy-something dollars worth of merchandise, logistically I knew they would not throw the shoes in the garbage. Although they could have, argued a desperate but weak voice of reason on my behalf. I said to myself, oh screw it! It is worth the feeling. So, there you have it. It felt good to misbehave because all I do day in and out is to behave. And certainly when it comes to me being the boss, as in the situation of the costumer, I wasn’t about to give up my god-likeliness. That night I slept torn inside, divided between guilt and guilty pleasure, with sporadic delusions of grandeur and astounding fear. Now, fear is something that anyone, even a newborn asshole is not exempted from. But the difference is, when others choose the path of tranquility of mind, and give in, they walk on a road paved in burning rocks and levitate in an ash-like state if necessary. Sort of like the great Mexican revolutionary would have said: “It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.”
Of course, the next day I went back to the store. But that is another story I shall tell you in a little while from now. As I am at work right now, I will do what I must first and then, if time and leisure allow, narrate later.