The Boots We Wear

It was time to order new boots. My old pair, a very comfortable pair of Galls Atheltic style boots, was cracking at the heels and the sole was separating from the boot. I did some shopping around, specifically looking for a pair of leather, waterproof, zippered boots under $150. I settled on a pair of Bates Durashock boots; leather, zippered, and water resistant.

These boots were comfortable out of the box, but still needed a couple of days to get broken in well. They looked new from the factory, unscuffed of course, but also a little dull. So I bought a tin of boot polish and started to shine ‘em up. For the last three weeks, I’ve spent at least an hour every shift polishing my boots to a glossy shine.

*****

I believe that you can tell a lot about an EMT or a medic by the boots that they wear. I take the time to polish my boots, to put forth a professional image from head to toe. I like to think that I’m precise and polished in my skills—not perfect, mind you—but polished.

Other medics show to work with ugly boots, never once shined from the moment they left the box, or worse, shined with those awful all-in-one sponges. Their uniform shirts are wrinkled, often with more than a couple of old coffee stains. Similarly, their skills are rough and they lack that personal touch, but they’re still passable as medics.

My company SOGs state that footware shall be “black and polishable.” Note that it doesn’t state “boot” specifically, but “footware.” Many of our employees have come to exploit this as well.

While black romeos aren’t specifically against company policy, they are a poor idea. They offer very little traction and no ankle support. They are not made for hiking a trail to rescue hiker or wade into a flooded ditch. And those EMTs in my company that choose to wear the romeo would not make the effort to climb that mountain, or they’d send a fireman into the ditch for their patient. They’re lazy, unwilling to do the work of lacing up a pair of boots and unwilling to do the work of polished EMT.

I’ve seen a medic come to work in black loafers. Old man shoes (if you’ll excuse the expression, but he is an old man.) His shoes also keep him from hiking hills or crawling into ditches, but they do convey a sense of professionalism and formality. We won’t see these loafers rappelling down a cliff, but we will see them standing next to Mr. Jones and his loafers as we help him up from the floor. The loafers, and the medic they’re attached to, has a way of interacting with the elderly population and putting them at ease that isn’t reproduceable by the medics my age.

A new hire EMT is working in a pair of black danskos, a wonderful nursing clog, but a shoe for the field it is not. Her attitude is great, with a perky smile, and a cute little pony tail. Her footware betrays her inexperience. She hasn’t had to hike a mountain or crawl into a ditch yet. Likewise, she hasn’t yet rolled her ankle stepping out of the ambulance, or worse, carrying a patient down a flight of stairs. Her skills lack polish and experience, just like her clogs.

*****

The last time I was at my parent’s place, I asked my mother if she still had her dad’s shoe shine kit. It was a worn, wooden box with a shoe stand on the lid. The hinges and latch were tarnished brass. Inside, I remember he had all kinds of brushes, polishes, and rags. Mom still had the box, which she was happy to pass over to me. Inside were all of grandpa’s old horsehair brushes, used so many times they’re down soft. Old tins of Kiwi polish caked and dried, and old, oil stained rags that smell like wood and polish. The care that went into my grandfather’s old cowboy boots (and a cowboy he was) now are going into my work boots.

My boots are something I can feel proud of. I think they make me stand out a little from my coworkers, even if I’m the only one who notices how nice they look. The work that I put into them, in a very strange way, makes me feel like a better Paramedic.