Shutterstock | Anna Jurkovska
There’s one thing that absolutely drives me up a wall.
I don’t know about you guys, but I hate shoes that squeak. I recently spent more than a hundred bucks on a pair of nursing shoes and the best thing about them (aside from the fact that they lace up in such a way that my feet look like a cartoon character’s) is that they are totally silent when I walk. The only thing I agree with Florence Nightingale about is the necessity for silent clothes (no rustling crinolines, girls!) and shoes.
And I work with a person who has very, very squeaky shoes. No matter the pair she wears, she squeaks. You can hear her get off the elevator. In fact, you can hear her get off the elevator two floors down, if you’re standing in the right place. I hate it. So I wrote this little ditty to her:
An Ode to Squeaky Shoes (to the tune of “Greensleeves”)
I hear your shoes coming down the hall
The squeaks bouncing off every door and wall
The sound drives itself into my brain
And it threatens to make me quite insane
Oh, squeaky shoes! Aren’t you ever quiet
Squeaky shoes, will you not be still?
Squeaky shoes, you are wrecking my mood
And making my sick patients e’en more ill.
If Flossie Nightingale heard your shoes,
She’d hit every bar in a search for booze
To drown the noise that your sneakers make
And broadcast every stop and turn you take.
I guess there’s one thing I can embrace:
When I hear your shoes, I can quit the place
Without the warning they give, it’s true,
I would spend too much time on the floor with you!
Squeaky shoes, won’t you tell me where
My coworker is, so I won’t be there!
Squeaky shoes please don’t ever stop
So I’ll see all my patients where she is not!