Saturday, July 09, 2005

Shopping at NAKMAT

Shopping at NAKMAT (NAni Kama Mimi - AToti!)

It starts at the car park…
It would be easier for a camel’s hump to pass through the eye of a needle than for you to find a parking anywhere near the supermarket. You chug past the myriad of occupied parking spaces getting further and further away from the entrance sign. Car is on gear two hoping that fuel consumption will be less – our oil companies’ wahenga wamenenawhat goes up can’t come down” as far as the petrol prices are concerned. It’s not surprising though; given that the land is led by a turgid-bellied, flaccid-minded group who, as a good friend from Zim mentioned, mouth yesterday’s slogans while preserving tomorrow’s pensions!

Niaje beshte?
A VCD/Tape/fake-DVD vendor, notorious for screen entertainment unavailable from E-PSOD, spots your car and eagerly rushes forward. Given the occupant of your passenger seat, you attempt to interrupt him mid-sentence as he shouts “Sema boss, umerudi? Nikuletee kama kawai…” You unconvincingly try to dismiss the incident claiming that you’ve never purchased anything from Mwash him or his ilk. “You lied to me, when you said you’d never…” is blaring on Kiss FM. Mark Morrison at his best! You finally get a parking, having cut in front of an old lady in a small car with an “L” sign displayed for all to view. As you disembark and walk past her car, you notice her inhaler, clamped-to-mouth with one hand, as she uses the other to give you the finger. You proceed, undeterred.

Entry into Nakmat
You reach for the trolley but the business-card-filled wallet dictates otherwise. Hand is re-directed to a basket. You begin to search for your items. The attendants are as helpful as a swimming pool - to a person suffering from the flu - in winter. Then begins the process of mentally tallying your bill as items are picked from the various stands: 7+8+6+5+7 = 3 carry 2, 2+3+etc

At the cash till
You look beady eyed as the ever-rising cash total at the till increases disproportionately to the offloading of items from your basket. As the total gets nearer and nearer to your Cash-in-Hand (not too different in value from your Cash-at-Bank, for Balance Sheet lovers) your reaction varies depending on the day of the week:
(a) Weekdays – tie is loosened and collar unbuttoned. Chin is raised as index finger is used to tug collar away from neck…
(b) Weekends – index finger and thumb used to tug ear-lobe. The same metacarpals are used to stroke chin…
Whichever the case, the room temperature seems to have increased several notches!

All crossables are crossed – metacarpals, metatarsals… Alas! Total bypasses C-i-H mentioned above. It suddenly dawns on you that you carried 2 instead of 3 in your mental arithmetic. Haya! Kimeumana! You look for the one item without a price tag and claim that the price on the stand was different from what the cashier has punched in. She reminds you that all she did was to swipe a bar code. You insist and your suddenly varicose-venated temples become testament to your growing angerthe best defence is an offence! Your causing a scene begins to attract the attention of others much to your dismay. You need to turn the situation around, quick! Cashier removes item bila price tag from the tally. You are still 30 bob short! The shame, the shame!!

Serious times call for serious action
Trump card of the last resort needs to be played. You decide not to pay cash given the ((total bill) – (cash-in-hand) = 30 bob) discrepancy. You unleash the debit card, your smiling picture thereupon similar to the facial expression of your bank manager when he looks at your bank statement and compares it to your title at work.

Like clockwork, the debit card is rejected, you feign total dissatisfaction with the establishment and promptly leave, minus selected items, vowing never to return!

Writer’s note: Imagine you forgot your debit card at home in the situation above…

It ends at the car park
You arrive at your car to find that the aforementioned old lady has double parked behind you! She hobbles over 45 minutes later, trolley laden with shopping goodies. Taking her time, she lets the attendant load the stuff into her car and tips him 30 bob. She then enters the car, takes three massive breath-swigs from the inhaler and shows you the finger, in her rear-view mirror, as she drives off!


Blogger M said...


This is pretty good stuff!! Like the style & wit

Sunday, July 10, 2005 10:26:00 AM  
Blogger Milonare said...

Thanks! You've given me plenty of laughs over the months so I really appreciate the feedback!

Sunday, July 10, 2005 11:39:00 AM  

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