We used to build civilizations. Now we build shopping malls. – Bill Bryson
Shopping as an activity was something that did not exist in my life for a very long time. When I was a kid I used to jump at the opportunity to buy a litre of milk, a kilo of sugar, etc during emergencies (read ‘unexpected visitors’) at home and used to think that I was an eager shopper. But now when I look back, I realise my motivation was the odd 25 or 50 paise that I could make in the exercise. I probably never shopped for more than an hour or for more than Rs.1,000 of groceries till I got married. Since then, however, household and grocery shopping has become one of the biggest activities of my life.
I read about people who are in the search for the purpose of life or understanding women. I feel that they are still in the lower stages of their philosophical quest compared to me, since I am already seeking answer to the bigger problem of how shopping can be enjoyable. I have also not been able to find the answer to the question, ‘if I am shopping for windows would I be window-shopping’?
One major thing that irks me about shopping is the increasing cost of living these days. I am so worried that I could launch into a tirade about prices these days, covering everything from gas to chocolates. However, when I accidentally mentioned it to a store salesman, he retorted, “Sir, if cost of living is so high and obviously offensive to you, then why do you bother?” (to live, that is) After that, I have wisely kept my feelings on cost to myself.
I found a different approach to counter the rising costs. This is a secret and I would appreciate if you would keep this to yourself. Last time I went shopping at a store, I asked the vendor, "How much are these oranges?" "Two for ten rupees," answered the vendor. "How much is just one?" I asked. "Six rupees," answered the vendor. "Then I'll take the other one," I said.
Since I detest shopping, my wife, the nice and wonderful woman that she is, has volunteered to do shopping for the entire family. This sounds great, right? I too felt the same when I heard it. I thought I had figured out the solution for my life’s suffering. That is… until I found the catch. I had to drive her to the shops, accompany her down the aisles while she made up her mind deciding if chocolate coated almond cookies were better than peanut butter nut cookies, and – here comes the tough part – also offer my suggestions.
The last time I refused to accompany my wife to the store, the billing clerk at the store had a good laugh. After putting the stuff my wife bought in three hours into some thirty seven plastic bags, he asked her, “Cash or card, madam?" As she fumbled for her wallet, he noticed a television remote control in her purse. "Do you always carry your television remote?" he asked. She replied, "No, only when my husband refuses to come shopping with me. Since the India-Pakistan cricket match is going on, this was a sweet revenge." The genius that I am, I took the opportunity to call up my girl friend and asked her if I could come over to watch the match saying my television broke down – but then that is a story for a different blog.
The other thing that I find difficult is the vast areas that shops and shopping malls cover. I doubt if shopping as an activity existed during the times of Mark Twain. Otherwise he would have remarked that ‘shopping is a good walk spoiled’ rather than ‘golf is a good walk spoiled’. I often get lost in the vast shopping malls, which annoys my wife as evident from her question which I encounter when I catch up with her later on, “Why on earth can’t you keep pace with me, you snail?” (On that note, do you know why they don’t serve snails in McDonalds? Because McDonalds is a 'fast' food joint.)
Hence I have devised an ingenious method. Whenever I get lost in a supermarket, I approach the nearest beautiful woman and ask, "You know, I've lost my wife here in the supermarket. Can I talk to you for a couple of minutes?" You may wonder why; because it so happens that every time I talk to a beautiful woman my wife appears out of nowhere.
I thought my aversion to household shopping was a peculiar psychological condition that I suffered from. I was thinking about getting medical help, when I learned that all harried (read ‘married’; I somehow find it impossible to spell the first m in ‘married men’!) men experience from the same condition. I wonder if there are any shopping malls in Mars. I guess not…
This is the era of outsourcing and I would like to outsource my shopping activities. Those interested may write to me separately with references.
Shopping as an activity was something that did not exist in my life for a very long time. When I was a kid I used to jump at the opportunity to buy a litre of milk, a kilo of sugar, etc during emergencies (read ‘unexpected visitors’) at home and used to think that I was an eager shopper. But now when I look back, I realise my motivation was the odd 25 or 50 paise that I could make in the exercise. I probably never shopped for more than an hour or for more than Rs.1,000 of groceries till I got married. Since then, however, household and grocery shopping has become one of the biggest activities of my life.
I read about people who are in the search for the purpose of life or understanding women. I feel that they are still in the lower stages of their philosophical quest compared to me, since I am already seeking answer to the bigger problem of how shopping can be enjoyable. I have also not been able to find the answer to the question, ‘if I am shopping for windows would I be window-shopping’?
One major thing that irks me about shopping is the increasing cost of living these days. I am so worried that I could launch into a tirade about prices these days, covering everything from gas to chocolates. However, when I accidentally mentioned it to a store salesman, he retorted, “Sir, if cost of living is so high and obviously offensive to you, then why do you bother?” (to live, that is) After that, I have wisely kept my feelings on cost to myself.
I found a different approach to counter the rising costs. This is a secret and I would appreciate if you would keep this to yourself. Last time I went shopping at a store, I asked the vendor, "How much are these oranges?" "Two for ten rupees," answered the vendor. "How much is just one?" I asked. "Six rupees," answered the vendor. "Then I'll take the other one," I said.
Since I detest shopping, my wife, the nice and wonderful woman that she is, has volunteered to do shopping for the entire family. This sounds great, right? I too felt the same when I heard it. I thought I had figured out the solution for my life’s suffering. That is… until I found the catch. I had to drive her to the shops, accompany her down the aisles while she made up her mind deciding if chocolate coated almond cookies were better than peanut butter nut cookies, and – here comes the tough part – also offer my suggestions.
The last time I refused to accompany my wife to the store, the billing clerk at the store had a good laugh. After putting the stuff my wife bought in three hours into some thirty seven plastic bags, he asked her, “Cash or card, madam?" As she fumbled for her wallet, he noticed a television remote control in her purse. "Do you always carry your television remote?" he asked. She replied, "No, only when my husband refuses to come shopping with me. Since the India-Pakistan cricket match is going on, this was a sweet revenge." The genius that I am, I took the opportunity to call up my girl friend and asked her if I could come over to watch the match saying my television broke down – but then that is a story for a different blog.
The other thing that I find difficult is the vast areas that shops and shopping malls cover. I doubt if shopping as an activity existed during the times of Mark Twain. Otherwise he would have remarked that ‘shopping is a good walk spoiled’ rather than ‘golf is a good walk spoiled’. I often get lost in the vast shopping malls, which annoys my wife as evident from her question which I encounter when I catch up with her later on, “Why on earth can’t you keep pace with me, you snail?” (On that note, do you know why they don’t serve snails in McDonalds? Because McDonalds is a 'fast' food joint.)
Hence I have devised an ingenious method. Whenever I get lost in a supermarket, I approach the nearest beautiful woman and ask, "You know, I've lost my wife here in the supermarket. Can I talk to you for a couple of minutes?" You may wonder why; because it so happens that every time I talk to a beautiful woman my wife appears out of nowhere.
I thought my aversion to household shopping was a peculiar psychological condition that I suffered from. I was thinking about getting medical help, when I learned that all harried (read ‘married’; I somehow find it impossible to spell the first m in ‘married men’!) men experience from the same condition. I wonder if there are any shopping malls in Mars. I guess not…
This is the era of outsourcing and I would like to outsource my shopping activities. Those interested may write to me separately with references.