hi-buy

Department stores unnerve me. What’s with the extreme organisation and clean-freakiness? Walking through one is like walking a tight rope.. or worse, taking a guarded trip in between the lines of a neatly printed sheet while the ink is still wet. Every thing is predetermined and there are fixed directions for every turn I take. A bar of soap can never hide unnoticed among jars of jam. Even if they both are fruity.
There are trolleys that are supposed to help you get about, but you always end up paying more attention to where the little wheels are taking off to than the shopping list. And you end up running into one of the towering shelves. Before you know it, nappies (why do they always keep them on the highest shelf?) and toilet paper rolls are raining on your head. Pink goes your face. Then red. Then maroon. Till the numbness of your hand turns into something tingly that pushes you to instantaneous action (=stupidity).
You try to single-handedly undo your mess, all the time praying to every god you suddenly realise you are devoted to… "oh, let me be invisible, let me be invisible…" But... "Excuse me mam! You can leave that. Sigh (deep one). We’ll attend to it. Sigh (deeper). It’s our job. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh." Purrrrple goes your face. Profuse apologies. Search for the trolley that some kid has found interesting enough to ride in. (ya, NOW it glides like a swan in water…) Quickly finish shopping. Get free pepsi 1.5 litres that is, according to McKinsey’s 45685795th point-of-sale survey, the biggest motivating factor to get you to spend More! More! More! on house supplies.
Standing in between two rows of shelves is, to put it simply, like being in the climax scene of a movie about treasure hunting in the haunted pyramids of Egypt. The last insignificant guy (who is usually the funniest and the most scared, so movie-goers know right from the beginning that he’s going to die) always gets stuck in between walls that are moving towards each other. Well, as I peer into a label, trying to pronounce the vowel-less term for that whitish gooey paste they mix in pasta (so I can knowingly drop the name while lunching with high-profile acquaintances I’ll meet on board the ship I buy soon), I get the same feeling of the world closing in on me. Some call it claustrophobia. Hah! Try mind-numbing, mouth-drying, blood-vessel-popping fear of overspending.(McKinsey must not hear of this)
What’s the best buyer experience then? Hmmm…
Seen the mayhem at a discount store that has a season sale? That.
Been thrilled at spotting a perfect red T-shirt among the pile of “Pick any three. Rs.100 only!” to soon realise that your house can wear it? That.
Searching for a second/third hand unrusted windshield wiper for your car in Chandni Chawk, Shivajinagar, Bangalore, while expertly dodging an arrow of pan juice fired at your foot. That.
Experiencing deep-felt satisfaction on discovering that a super chappal you bought for Rs.150 on the road is being sold for Rs.2999.99 becoz the store manager wears a tie. That.
Not knowing where the soap or jam is in the provision store and using that as a pretext to kick up a conversation with the shopkeeper. THAT.