Three weeks later, the day of her foot metamorphosis surgery arrived. Sarah had spent the time between the last paragraph and this one shopping for shoes, which, of course, there aren't any for caster feet. She did find some plastic disks on which she could stand to keep still, and to keep her feet from making marks in the carpet. But no shoes.
"what will i do?" she worried, beginning to wonder if the big pan-shaped feet with a handle on them might be more practical. "i'll feel so silly at shoe-testing parties." Sarah slumped into a chair and thought about the good fortune of worms. She looked out of her window dejectedly, searching for a sign. Just then, the phone rang.
"Sarah, we're down here at the plant testing out the new olives." It was the olive manufacturer, and he sounded worried. "The thing is, the testers we're using seem to be missing the concept here. They're just eating the olives, without asking what's in them."
"did you shrink-wrap the individual olives, with instruction sheets wrapped inside?" asked Sarah.
"Thanks," said the manufacturer, a little embarrased. "What can I do to repay you?"
"oh nothing. well, actually," said Sarah. "you could invent a new kind of shoe which would fit spherical, casterlike feet but which would rotate freely and not cause corns for the wearer. something in a beige perhaps."
"Gimme an hour" replied the manufacturer, and hung up the phone.