A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Root Canal

Some years ago I had a bit of time to kill before a dental appointment so I went window-shopping.

I called into a little boutique shoe store. I was their only customer that morning and got chatting to the sales assistant, who I’ll call Ruth.

There were random shoes and shoe boxes piled high and covering just about every inch of floor space. Ruth excitedly explained that they had just taken delivery of the new season’s stock.

With great animation she began to tell me all about the latest trends, suggesting this and that.

I felt it only fair at this point to let her know that I was only browsing before heading to the dentist for root canal and I wasn’t planning on buying anything.

‘No problem,’ she said. She really just wanted to see what the new styles looked like on a real live person and insisted I try on literally dozens of pairs.

She seemed so thrilled by it all, how could I possibly refuse?

Besides, Ruth was just so nice.

The time came when we had to say our farewells.

I wished her luck with her shoes.

She wished me luck with my root canal.

A little while later, I lay back in the dental chair waiting for whatever it was they jabbed into me to work it’s magic and take me to a happy place. It was circa 1988 at the time and I’m pretty sure dentists only used horse needles back then.

The dental nurse came in and tapped me on the shoulder.

She was really sorry to do this, she really didn’t feel comfortable about it at all but it was going to be necessary to search my bag for a stolen item.

WTF?

As far as I can remember we didn’t actually use this term in the 1980’s but WTF?

Ruth had obviously lost one of the shoes in the pile of crap she was surrounded by and decided I was the most likely suspect.

She must have then put out an APB or at the very least called around a few local dentists until she found me. Haven’t our privacy laws come a long way?

I remember going blood red with the humiliation of it all. I let the dental nurse search my bag and relay the news to Ruth (who was still on hold) that ‘no, she doesn’t have the stolen shoe.’

Naturally I told the story to one of my best friends who in turn told her mother.

Enter Tutti Mavis Alice Myrtle Mary.

Tutti was an unusual character to say the least.

We called her Tutti Frutti Wanna Rooti behind her back.

She was what I would call a real tough nut but she looked out for us all like we were her own daughters.

She wasn’t going to stand for me being treated this way and hauled me straight down to a solicitor’s office with clear instructions to sniffle and cry in the hope that I might be able to sue the shoe store for defamation.

Tutti also started to regularly go into the store and harass Ruth, especially if there was an audience.

One time she walked in and in one foul swoop she knocked all the shoes off the shelves and quietly walked out again. Pure Tutti. Pure Gold.

The most ridiculous thing about all this was that I was never accused of stealing a pair of shoes. It was only ever one shoe.

For months afterwards I had to put up with friends winding me up by hobbling past me, wearing only one shoe.