It was Nicole Lund, the same person who got me wearing capes. I pretended not to hear and continued on. I didn’t want her to see the large trash bag I’d filled with free donut holes and frosted animal cookies from the Franz Bakery booth.
“Come on, Jim,” she said again. “You’ll love the Newtons. Set your animal cookies and donut holes in the corner.”
As she laced up the shoes, I asked if Newtons are named after that Las Vegas singer, Wayne Newton. Nicole said they’re named after him, Sir Isaac Newton, and those delicious treats, Fig Newtons.
“How can they be named after three completely different things? Is that really true?”
“Yes, google it. Now give those a try.”
I ran down the corridor. Three people took pictures of me. When I ran back, three more camera flashes went off. I liked the bright color of the Newtons, and I thought they looked really good on me, but I had no idea that six people would be so struck that they’d snap photos of me doing a test run. When I told Nicole, she smiled and patted me on the shoulder. “Jim, you are so hot in those shoes, but you set off the security cameras.”
Nicole introduced me to Jack McPheron, the Newton sales rep. I asked if Newton would sponsor me at Bloomsday. Jack commented that I looked like a fast runner, but said that shoe companies tend to sponsor elite runners. When I pointed out that I could generate huge sales because my charisma more than makes up for not being an elite runner, Nicole supported me. She mentioned the time I told a joke that made some people laugh.
Jack thanked me for trying out the Newtons, and as I left the convention center, my trash bag of donut holes and cookies slung over my shoulder, I saw a billboard across the street. If Newton decided to send me a contract, I figured I’d soon be on it.