The sound of one foot stomping

7/17/10 One Croc sandal, trashed

I'll kick off tonight's downsize from two angles:

1) The Mystery

A few years ago, under intense pressure from my wife, I bought a pair of Crocs. If you have not received your updated membership to the sheeple club, let me remind you that crocs, thanks either to Mario Batali or little kids everywhere, are now the preferred footwear for every occasion.

The crocs were functional and I've certainly gotten my use out of them. In fact, I chose to hold them out as one of only four pairs of shoes I didn't downsize or pack in the POD before leaving Maine.

Here's the crazy part: while we were in Ohio, I slid the crocs on as I went to get something out of the car. And one croc felt strangely snug. Upon examination, it was very clear that one sandal was noticeably smaller than the other. It was almost as if it had shrunk twenty percent.

Long story short: the only possible explanation was that I had somehow switched right shoes with someone who had an identical, yet smaller size, sandal. The only place I figured that could have happened was at my parents' house, where possibly my mother or my sister had similar shoes.

Unfortunately, my mother, who was with us at the time, couldn't seem to recall if she owned black crocs.

"Maybe," she said, tentatively. That was good enough for me, and when she flew back to Maine after escorting us safely to Denver, I sent the mini-shoe with her.

Are you surprised, Dear Readers, to hear that neither Mom nor Katie had the missing croc?

So, now, I am left with one useless sandal, completely baffled by what could have happened to its mate.

2) A Policy Recommendation

You may remember, Dear Readers, my proposal that businesses that sell toxic chemicals should assume some responsibility for helping consumers recycle unused portions of those chemicals. It was a brilliant idea and the foundation of my future bid for public office. Like any good politician, however, I realize that I must expand my platform beyond one idea -- okay, honestly, most politicians these days seem intent on NOT looking beyond a single idea, but we can still pretend, right?

So here's my new proposal: companies that produce goods that can't be recycled or reused in traditional ways should offer options for responsible disposal of their goods.

I read online that Crocs, Inc. accepted unwearable sandals back at their Boulder, Colorado, facility where they recycled their "proprietary closed-cell resin, Croslite™, which represents a substantial innovation in footwear." If the substance is so fabulous, it makes sense that they'd have a plan for dealing with its consequential refuse. (Read all about this space-age technology that has made these folks billionaires here.)

The feel-good recycle urban myth? Not true.

I spent valuable time today when I should have been working emailing back and forth with Crocs Customer Service Associate Erin, who really did want to help me. Unfortunately, the best she could do was recommend I donate my old crocs to Souls 4 Souls, which is great if you have two wearable shoes, but not so good when all you've got is a lone sandal.

My visions of driving up to Boulder and dropping off my lone shoe, complete with great photo-op in front of the crocs factory, were crushed.

In the end, I tossed it into the garbage. Croslite or not, it's just going to be a bump in the landfill, now.

Seems like a shame, no? If this material has made this company such a success, shouldn't they have a plan for what to do with it? We've reached a point where consumers are starting to think about the long-term consequences of what they buy.

I believe -- and I'll stand by this as I debate my fellow candidates -- that we need to raise the expectations for the businesses from which we buy.

I'm calling you out, Crocs, Inc. Before I buy my next pair of crocs, I want to know your plan for how I'll properly downsize them when their ambulatory life is over. I await your response.

And I ask for your vote.

Editor's Note, 7/19/10: One croc was rescued from the depths of the trash can and one Croc, Inc. was rescued from the depths of corporate villainy. Check out the July 19th post for the details.

Editor's Note, 8/2/10: To make up for the fact that I couldn't officially count this croc as "trashed" on this day, I trashed a battery-operated nose-hair trimmer. I figured a used nose-hair trimmer had equal gross-out value as a used sandal.