IT WAS lust at first sight.

I spotted the hot pink Doc Martens in a shoe store near our HK hotel. I wanted them. But I knew I had to control myself ? we had days of shopping ahead.

The next day, we returned to the store, I tried the pair on and thought it looked way cool. But I still held back. I loved them but I have Doc Martens trauma. I wore my last pair only once, it hurt my feet too much.

On sale

But I couldn?t stop thinking about the Doc Martens. On our last night in HK I did something brilliant. I went online. On my favorite shopping web site, I found hot pink Doc Martens. The best part? They were on sale ? 40-percent off.

Back in Manila, I checked the site obsessively, worried someone else would snap up the pair. Because I?ve banned myself from using plastic in fear of how swipe-happy I get with a credit card, I bugged my friend Giff to order it for me instead and paid him in cash.

Since the store was based in the US, Giff had the pair shipped to Lala, my friend in California, who then shipped it to me. Buying my Doc Martens had turned into a serious group effort.

Break in

I felt like a kid waiting for Christmas. But while I was excited, I was also scared my new pair would hurt like hell. I started researching ways to break in my new Doc Martens. The Internet offered a lot of tricks ? water, Vaseline, really thick socks, olive oil and even a hammer. Bookmarking those pages, I felt ready for my pair.

For weeks, I kept waiting to get that slip from the post office. Nothing came.

This became my standard e-mail exchange with Lala:

Lala: ?Did you get your shoes na [already]??
Me: ?Not yet.?

This became my standard conversation after getting home:

Me: ?Manong, may dumating galing post office [Manong, was anything delivered from the post office]??
Manong: ?Wala pa [None].?

Finally, after two long months, I found the slip tacked to our fridge. I woke up unusually early the next day, excited to claim my package from the post office.

Counter 37

I went to counter 37, handed my slip over to a woman who asked me to sign a couple of ledgers. She then directed me to the cashier who was right beside her. There I had to pay a P35 customs inspection fee. The cashier told me to go wait for my package at the last counter. There was nothing unusual about this ? I?ve picked up packages from that post office several times. It was always the same counters, same P35 customs inspection fee, same instructions.

Soon, a woman behind the counter started walking toward me, cradling my box. ?Beh, may tax ka ha [Beh, you have tax],? she said. I nodded, ignoring the unnecessary term of endearment.

Sure, I can pay tax. My shoes were only $70 including shipping; how expensive could the tax be?

She and another customs man started talking. ?Sapatos, sapatos ?no [They?re shoes, right]? 100 ?to, 100.?

Oh cool, I thought, I just had to pay P100. I am both naïve and stupid.

My relief lasted only a minute.

?Excuse me,? I asked the woman, as she handed someone else a package. ?Sa cashier ba magbabayad [Will I pay at the cashier]??

Gesturing for me to wait, she said, ?Hindi, dito lang [No, just here]? before disappearing again.

Then, she was back. ?P1,900 ang tax mo [Your tax is P1,900].?

Insane

I couldn?t believe my ears. ?P1,900 ang tax mo,? she repeated, handing me a strip of paper of a whole list of numbers, their attempt to justify the insane amount they were charging me. I was so dumbstruck I was speechless.

?Sige, mag-isip ka muna d?yan [Alright, think about it],? she said condescendingly, taking away the box. I was furious. I had more than enough money to pay the tax but I wasn?t about to hand it over to them.

Just months ago, I picked up a pair of limited-edition Nike High Dunks from there and wasn?t asked to pay any tax even though the shoe cost twice as much. What made things different this time?

Breathing slowly to relax myself, I told her, ?Binili ko ?yung sapatos for $70, bakit magiging P1,900 ?yung tax? Konti na lang kapresyo na n?ya yung sapatos [I bought my shoes for $70, why should I pay P1,900 in tax? Just a little more and it would be the price of the shoes].?

?Ganyan talaga [That?s the way it is],? she said.

Haggling

A voice in my head tried to talk me into paying. But another angrier voice said: ?Are you kidding?! That would defeat the purpose of getting it on sale.?

Besides, if this was legit, shouldn?t I have been asked to pay at the counter?

The woman, clearly eager to get to her point said: ?Kailangan mo ba ng resibo [Do you need a receipt]??

?Eh kung hindi [If not]?? I asked.

?Pwede mong tawaran ?yan [You can bargain],? she said.

Oh wow, I never knew haggling was a skill I could use inside government offices.

I will always be ashamed of what happened next ? I stopped being The Girl Who Was Eager To Get Her Shoes and turned into The Girl Who Was An Accessory To Corruption.

Kids, don?t try this at home. Or anywhere else.

?Magkano [How much]?? I said, ?Ikaw na ang magsabi [You tell me].?

She said something I couldn?t hear.

?Three hundred?? I asked.

She said, ?Hindi pwede [No way]. Five hundred. Ilalapit ko lang ?yan sa kanila sa loob [I will have talk to the people inside].?

I couldn?t believe she was trying to pretend she was doing me a favor.

Dirty

I had three choices ? pay P500, pay P1,900, or walk away without my shoes. The pull of the hot pink Doc Martens was too strong. Oh, the things we do for the love of fashion.

I handed her five P100 bills, then grabbed my shoes and got out of there.

When I got into the car, I felt so dirty I wanted to take a shower. ?My shoes have been tainted with corruption!? I wailed to friends.

I went online and posted about the P1,900 tax on Facebook without giving details. One of my friends replied: ?I?m sure they offered to bring down that P1,900 to something a lot lower, say P1,000, ?Just for you,? but, oh gosh, they tell you they won?t be able to issue a receipt.?

Clearly, this isn?t as uncommon as I thought. No wonder so many of my friends refuse to order stuff online ? we?ve all heard Customs horror stories.

On a more positive note, the shoes haven?t been as painful on my feet as I thought. My Customs experience was a bigger pain.

I?ve found more Doc Martens on sale online. I am tempted to order again but just the thought of walking back into that Post Office makes my stomach churn.

Sure, I love fashion but I draw the line at corruption.