Change your socks halfway through the shift

Because by hour four your socks are wet, and wet socks are where the ache, the blister and the smell begin. Eight separate conversations — the widest agreement in these conversations — keep a spare pair at work and change into them halfway through a shift, and say the second half of the shift is markedly more comfortable for it. The accounts’ method, one each: keep the fresh pair dry in a sealed bag; clean the feet first with a wet wipe or a dusting of powder so the new socks go onto dry skin; seal the wet pair away, because one caution says the used pair goes into a sealed bag or it will smell; hand-wash the old pair at work if laundry at home is the bottleneck; keep several pairs there if the job is wet or outdoors, and change more than once. One account puts the change inside a wider break routine — teeth, face, socks — that carries them through a double shift. One account says the military where they served made the sock change compulsory at marching breaks, as a matter of getting through long marches. Two cautions on manners: do it out of sight of colleagues, and never leave the used pair anywhere shared. The page on this site about buying boots once carries the money argument; this one is the five-minute habit that costs a second pair of socks.

Not cotton, and four separate conversations say so. Four separate conversations say cotton holds sweat against the skin all day and is the wrong fibre for a long shift, and that wool — merino in particular — wicks moisture, keeps its temperature and does not smell; single accounts add that a thin wool sock is cooler than cotton even in summer, because the fibre moves the sweat rather than soaking it, and one says a good pair can go more than a day without smelling. One exchange, one account each way, asks whether wool is too hot in high summer; the wool side says the thin weights are not. Three conversations wear a thin nylon liner under the wool sock, which one account says prevents blisters and dries faster, and say it ends blisters and speeds drying; one account with sweat between the toes swears by toe-socks, and one exchange, two accounts to one, weighs those against ordinary wool for damp feet — the accounts’ decider is where you sweat. Three conversations wear compression socks for swelling, tired legs and back ache after long standing, and the safety note says how to buy them. Now the correction, which is the reason this page exists in the form it does: the person who started one of these conversations said to buy socks at the hardware store, because tradespeople buy them there in bulk. Four accounts answered, and a hardware-store employee, backed by three more, called their own stock rubbish — that tradespeople buy them there because they are cheap and disposable, not because they are good, and that the socks bunch, wear through and cause blisters. This page carries that as the settled point it became. The accounts’ smaller craft: buy identical pairs so laundry sorts itself; one caution says one wool brand’s socks shrink a little, so size up; one says socks bought through a big online marketplace can be counterfeit; and one account, for what it is worth, puts socks on before underwear so a foot fungus stays on the foot.

Buy them in the afternoon, own two pairs, and stop assuming running shoes are the answer. Three separate conversations say feet swell through the day, so try shoes on late in the day when the foot is at its largest, or the pair that fitted in the morning will pinch by evening. Three conversations alternate two pairs on alternate days so the cushioning recovers and the inside dries — one account brings the second pair to work and swaps mid-shift with the socks. Two conversations say a decent insole made a large difference, and several accounts add the cautions: insoles wear out in about a month of heavy use and want replacing, insurance will not pay for them, and memory-foam liners are, one account says, a gimmick that stops breathing and collapses within a year. Two conversations say a wide toe box — even a minimal, unpadded shoe — took away knee, hip and back pain by letting the foot spread. On running shoes the people here argue and then get corrected: three accounts say they are the most cushioned, most breathable thing for a day on your feet; one account says they flex too much, lack arch and side support and hurt after a few hours; and one correction, from someone who works in podiatry, says running shoes are not best for everyone — foot mechanics vary, and the insole matters more than the shoe type — foot mechanics differ, and the insole and the fit matter more than the category. The contraindications draw lines: not running shoes in a kitchen where the rule is a wipeable, non-slip shoe; not a basketball shoe or anything with a stiff sole if the job is walking; not the clog that five accounts in standing jobs love if you have a high arch it fights. The other shapes the accounts use, de-named: a supportive clog for standing still, a cross-trainer for jobs that move sideways, a light hiking shoe for high step counts, a leather or rubber upper where things get spilled, a vented mesh shoe indoors — with a caution that your employer may not approve it — and, where the toe cap is mandatory, one of the lighter safety boots rather than the cheapest, which one account says are far worse than the good ones. One caution: a well-known heavy leather boot needs a week or two of misery before it is comfortable.

On socks, yes, five separate conversations say; on shoes, usually; and the people here argue the arithmetic honestly. Five separate conversations say better shoes and socks cost less in the long run than the cheap ones re-bought every few months, and one account says the sock upgrade did more than any shoe upgrade — once they had good socks, every shoe felt inadequate by comparison. One exchange, one account to two, doubts the maths: the one says you are probably not saving money by switching to wool; the two answer that durability and avoided foot trouble make it a saving over years, and the accounts’ decider is how long you keep things and how much you value the comfort itself. The accounts’ evidence for the durable side: wool socks that lasted years of heavy wear; a sock maker with a lifetime replacement policy, which one account found honoured without postage at a local shop and another found needed posting; the cheap department-store safety toes against a well-made pair. The cautions: the discount prices the accounts quote at warehouse clubs and off-price shops are volatile, so treat them as luck rather than plan; a bulk-bought sock that smells after two or three days is telling you what it cost. The page on buying boots once carries the whole argument for anything else you stand in.

Small things, one account each, that this page passes on as theirs. Rinse the feet in cold water every few hours if you can — one account says it takes the swelling down and resets the whole body; the compression socks three conversations recommend do the same job from the outside. One account brings a dry shirt when the work gets them wet; another wears trousers that stretch, because the restrictive kind are miserable over a long shift. Put an anti-fatigue mat under a standing station — the page about raising a desk has more on that. One caution says the feet themselves are healthy bare, with a caution that a workplace floor has glass and edges on it. And one correction this page repeats from the safety note because the people here nearly got it wrong: an account offered hair on the feet as a sign of good circulation in diabetes, and was corrected that nerve damage in diabetic feet happens regardless — the foot check is a clinician’s, and a blister on a foot that cannot feel it is not something a sock fixes.