Last updated on March 21st, 2024 at 09:07 am
“How much is this?” I raise the ‘closeup’ toothpaste I’m holding. The shop attendant looks at me struggling to conceal his annoyance. I ignore him.
I used to go to the mall close to my house but then changed my mind. The prices are fixed and outrageous. Now, having shifted to the “chemist” shops, I’m surprised to see that there isn’t much difference. I had hoped that I could at least haggle for a decent price. It’s certainly not going to work, not with the way the shop attendant is looking at me as if I’m about to run away with his goods. I could, actually. Run away with this toothpaste, and some sardines, and run away from planet Earth while at it.
Not only have the prices increased but the sizes are smaller. I bought a gala in the traffic the other day and I was livid that the seller had intentionally sold me the smaller size for the regular price. I knew I’d probably never see her again, but I still mapped out revenge in my mind while I ate the gala. It wasn’t until I bought it another time that I got schooled.
“Ahnahn, why you dey sell small gala for me dey collect money for normal one?” I accused the seller, obviously transferring the anger from my previous encounter. The seller was just as vexed as I was though.
“Which one be normal gala and small one? You no dey this country?”
“Gala no big pass this one? No be two sizes dey?”
“Abeg, give me my market if you no buy. Better open your eyes well.”
She should have explained the situation to me, but no one has the time to explain things anymore. Everyone’s angry. Our default mode is anger. This shop attendant is another classic reflection of our default mode. I swear this toothpaste used to be longer and bigger than this. I stopped taking ‘good morning’ cornflakes for this reason. The box size didn’t change, but the pack inside it was an equal mix of cereal and air. These companies should be sued. I switched to NASCO cornflakes, at least, it’s cheaper. Though, I promise, the heavy crunch has been the source of my migraines.
I look at my list again and see that the budgeted price for everything (being ten items) will probably cover just three items. And the items are not even regular-sized.’
“Aunty, if you no wan buy, dey go. This one wey you dey look like person wey wan steal.” There, he said it.
“Steal wetin? Your market don too cost.” I say, feigning offence. He doesn’t take it lightly though.
“Give me my market,” he says. Snatching the miniature toothpaste from me. “Dey go, oya oya.” To say that I’m embarrassed will be an understatement. Everyone is angry. I turn and leave his shop, eyeing him. These companies might as well bottle up air and sell to us.
I enter another shop and quietly pick the things I need, at the same time calculating the number of days I’ll have to miss lunch to make up for the extra money spent.
