I was out to buy some Dragon-Fruit at the Gulshan kitchen market.
There were two problems facing me: 1) I had no idea what a dragon-fruit looked like or what its Bangla name was and 2) I didn’t know what the price range was. I’m ready to be swindled in the kitchen market. Anyone worth their salt knows that the sellers there are a different, street-smart breed compared to us corporate zombies. Take a negotiation for example. We, zombies, will draft memos, coordinate, set up meetings, finalize agendas, set up Skype get people in and debate the shit out of the issue – including how to extend the looming deadline without going towards a resolution. Kitchen market sellers will just say ‘Sir – you’ve just chosen the best produce in the entire market’. And what can I say, flattery works.
I don’t mind paying a little bit extra – but I need to know exactly how much it is. When I knowingly pay extra, I feel benevolent and generous – a relatively-affluent executive contributing to poverty. But whenever I don’t know and have to find out later, I feel like a gullible idiot swindled by a bunch of semi-literate hacks who in probability, start sniggering the moment I walk away. And I will not be made a fool again.
So, I was on my way to this notoriously manipulative joint. Flies outnumbered people and circled the groceries stalls like drones over Pakistan. Of course, the fruits had a keeper who fanned flies away. Pakistan has no one. Also Pakistan has probably gone bad faster than most apples. But I digress. Let me come back in a minute.