As the warm weather (slowly) rolls in, the Birkenstocks are popping up like the fresh spring flowers. Everyone is pulling out their favorite cork soles for the first time since the fall, including myself, and I was recently reminded of my customer experience buying my favorite pair of sandals for the first time.
Last summer, my little sister decided she wanted a pair of plastic Birks to wear on her way to and from dance practice with her tights. I promised her and her best friend that I would take them to the mall after dinner. Once I realized I had just gotten my first paycheck from my summer job, I decided it was time for me to invest in my first pair of this cult favorite shoe.
We made our way to Journeys an hour before it closed for the night, both of us already committed to buying shoes. We walked in and bee-lined for the Birks. The salesman remained coolly behind the counter, likely listening to see what our intentions were for being in the store. We began debating over styles for me and colors for my sister. Then the salesman came over and asked about our sizes. He became very personable with us, getting us as many styles and colors as we wished. My sister made a quick decision on black because they were neutrals and would not get noticeably dirty.
I, on the other hand, needed to make sure that the shoes I was dropping $100 on were the ones I would wear most often. I tried on the classic Arizona two strapped, the more girly ones with the toe hole, and even a pair of plastic ones. I was still a bit iffy as to whether or not they would go with my summer wardrobe the best. The salesman, who himself had every style of Birks in every color, regular cork and plastic (“for when it rains, duh!”), began asking about my outfits. When I told him I wore mostly dresses, he got very excited. He ran to the back and pulled out these beauties:
He told me how this style was on the newer side and not many people had them. I agreed that they would look the best with dresses because they could be pressed up or dressed down because of the wraparound strap on the ankle. I put them on and looked in the mirror. I liked them a lot, but I had one dumb concern to ask the salesman…
“I have really small ankles, does the strap accentuate the fact that they’re tiny?”
Yep. I really asked that. But, I felt like I could and it wouldn’t be weird because the salesman had already gained my trust through humor and making sure I was getting the best style for me.
He leaned over to me and said, “Honestly, I wouldn’t normally say this to a customer, but I think the strap makes people’s ankles look bigger anyways, so it balances you out more with your calves.”
My sister and her friend agreed, and I was sold.
The best part of this experience for me was that he was so real. He already knew from the way we came into the store that we were going to buy the shoes, so he was able to simply help us with the fun part. He was so real and funny that it felt like I was just shopping with a friend (who happened to be the owner of the store). It made for a truly fun experience where I felt no buyer’s remorse, even after spending $100 on sandals, because I enjoyed the buying experience and was able to find the perfect shoe for me.
This summer, I plan to buy another pair in a different style, and I know exactly where I will be going to purchase them.
well ,Aby I don’t think you have small ankles, and it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that you asked the sales person about your ankles. I do agree that if a sales person is more personable than I feel more comfortable asking questions which makes me feel better about my purchase. I think this also reduces buyers remorse.