F*ck-Me Hard Boots

Beyonce` and I are pretty tight. You may or may not know this, but it’s true. Chris V. was a friend of mine back in my Beyonce` VIP clubbing days. We were both in sales at the same company. She was likeable, direct, and to the point. Always. She was kind of a tomboy too. But she was very pretty, even without makeup. Chris was about 5’6” with dishwater blonde hair. Her signature style was to wear knee high leather boots - even on sales appointments. 

They weren’t riding boots.

 Not Go-Go boots either.

Keep in mind, this was over 10 years ago. NO one in sales wore boots like these. Most of my female sales team dressed more conservatively, maybe a suit jacket, skirt and heels. So they would always tease her behind her back about the boots. They called them…

“f*ck-me hard boots.”

Anyway, that was a long time ago. And now, “f*ck-me hard” boots are totally in style. Apparently, she was ahead of her time. Everyone has a pair or ten. Even me.

Only I think they should come with a warning label. 

I learned this the hard way after Christmas Party festivities that included expensive wine and a 5 course dinner downtown.

I’m not as highly trained as Chris was, apparently. Walking in them is like having the Leaning Tower of Pisa for heels. My sprained and blackened ankle is finally almost healed 2 months after I fell down the stairs. I blamed the carpet, but I think we all know the truth. Stupid boots. Stupid wine.

I’ve lost track of Chris in the years that have passed. I can’t find her on Face book or LinkedIn or anywhere. Way back when, I was inside sales, she was outside sales. Inside sales is kind of like having to massage the clients you already have. Outside sales (Chris) is all about hooking up with new clients. I always wondered why she outsold me. Maybe it was the boots? On the other hand, those boots may explain why I can’t find her. Maybe she tripped and fell off the planet.

At any rate, there is a lesson to be learned about “f*ck-me hard” boots.

If you’ve got a pair and are well-trained, you’re good to go. You can sell the shit out of anything.  If, on the other hand you are less experienced at walking on glorified stilts the height of The Empire State Building…skip the wine and steer clear of all stairs. Your ankle with thank you for it.

Love Ya! Merrilyn