Shopping in small towns…

I live in a small town where everyone knows every detail about the next person. Sometimes you don’t even have to speak to the taxi driver; if it’s a mid-week morning and you are leaving home he will take you to your work place, if you are coming from town he will take you straight to your gate. When Electra was here last week and she wanted to go to her aunt’s place but had forgotten the address, the taxi driver simply asked for her aunt’s surname and drove her there. I kid you not.

Most people here shop in OK, myself included. I shop there because 9/10 of the times I will find everything I am looking for, and its clean. I am yet to see roaches and rats in OK (this implying that I have seen them elsewhere).

You get people staring at your shopping cart and evaluate its contents. Making snap judgments based on what they see. I wish they would at least ask questions before they judge.

Excuse me young lady before I judge you, I would like to clarify whether you are going to drink that 6 pack of Pilseners.

Speaking of 6 packs, this is a conversation I recently had with the Mr

Me: you are developing a beer belly

The Mr: this is not a beer belly. It’s a 6 pack

Me: (laughing) where is the 6 pack?

The Mr: I drank it

 I digress…

As I mentioned before a lot of people shop in OK so it is a given that you are going to bump into people you know every time you enter the store. Many a times I have had to divert my route just to avoid a person or two.

What I have had to learn to ignore is “that awkward moment” when some male (colleague, client, friend etc.) finds you just as you are picking up a packet of sanitary. I refuse to be ashamed of being a woman, let me buy my products in peace!!!!

True story; the day I decided I just wouldn’t give a hoot anymore was when I had just picked up one packet from a huge stack, I turned around ready to walk away from the isle of shame only to bump into Mr X (who couldn’t have picked a better time to pop up). As we were exchanging pleasantries the stack just fell apart behind me, one packet after the other from the shelf to the floor. As red faced as an African girl can possibly be I bid him farewell turned around and proceeded to pick up the naughty buggers from the floor.

I have a sweet tooth but I have grown to resent the sweets that they force me to take under the pretext of the unavailability of change. My colleague once asked the teller if he could exchange all the sweets they had ever given him for a loaf of bread, to which she answered NO. How does that work? I can take sweets in exchange for money but you cannot? Usually I opt for a credit note but sadly the note usually fades out before I use it. I wonder how much money they are making from such actions, I think it’s tantamount to thief.

That’s all for today…