The Shopkeeper

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I was in the backroom sorting supplies/dozing off/making out/… when I heard the ding as someone walked in. I peeked out into the main store to see what kind of person had walked in.

Black/6ft 1. Suspicious. Great big coat that looked like it could fit half of what was in the store, and a backpack for what was left over.

Just to be sure, I went to the counter and leaned on it with my elbows, my eyes tracking his every move, although I grew uneasy when he walked behind the shelves where he probably knew I couldn’t see him. He would walk aimlessly between the shelves, stop, pick something, stand looking at it for a minute, then replace it. Not once did he ever look towards the counter, but he had to know I was watching him.

This guy was good. I decided that he could go on for hours, and I’d get so used to seeing him patrol that I wouldn’t notice when he did pick something — for good.

Neural adaptation — that’s what it’s called. I barely graduated from high school, but I know the word because my daughter learned about it in a college freshman Psychology course.

I called out to him when he was close enough to the counter. I called out again, then once more, and he turned to me. He took out the earphone in his right ear and said, “Did you say something?”

His accent was foreign. My suspicions increased.

“Shoplifting might be accepted back where you come from, but here it’s a crime. You look like someone who’s going to walk out with something hidden in your coat, and I don’t want you around here, because I’ll get into trouble with the manager.”

I wanted to say that, but I didn’t. Instead, I said, “I need you to leave if you’re not going to buy anything. I have some work to do in the backroom, and I’m not going to stand around watching you walk up and down my store.”

He looked me right in the eye and said calmly, “I don’t like what you’re trying to imply.”

Imply. The devil probably looked up the word right before coming to the store.

“Look,” I said, getting angrier. “You’re not buying anything, you leave. It’s as simple as that. I don’t want you walking up and down, and then…”

“Wait…” he cut in. I wasn’t going to let him.

“I don’t want you walking up and down and then taking God-knows-what. I simply don’t have the time to watch you, because I’ve got things to do in the backroom.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” he said. “Now, this isn’t the first time I’ve come into this store to buy something. All the other guys who work here know me.”

Yeah right.

“I come in here sometimes when I’m bored, walk around, and buy anything I feel like…”

“I don’t want anyone ‘bored, walking around and picking what he likes.’ If you’re not going to buy anything, I need you to leave,” I cut him short.

“I was going to buy these,” he held out two 25c combs.

“Just leave,” I took them from him and threw them beside the cash register, heading for the backroom where the greater pleasures of life awaited me.

“Hey!” he shouted. “I said I want to buy these.”

I returned to the counter and rang them up. 75c, including tax. I wanted to wallop his nose, but I dutifully made change, and handed them to him, although I made sure I didn’t put them in a paper bag, or ask him if he wanted one.

I heaved a sigh of relief when he left.

_________________________________________________________

I (Azuka) have never been more insulted in my life. I think I handled this pretty well, considering that I’m sometimes a pushover, and will either take anything thrown at me meekly, or explode in anger.

This is the corner shop where I’m one of their (I hope) esteemed customers. I get a discount on a carton of Arizona Green Tea which I can reserve up to a week in advance. Some items I’ve requested have been added to the stock because I’m likely to buy  items I request every week.

It happened this morning, but I’m still very angry at what happened. I’m going to talk to the manager tomorrow (today, actually — it’s 12:12am).

Searching

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9:45 am.

I’ve just emerged from the shower and am looking for something. In one of those cases of my losing something in working memory, I keep searching, sure that when I find it — whatever it is — I’ll know it’s what I’ve been looking for.

Now, if I had my glasses, I’d have found it long ago, but no, I don’t have them on.

If I had my glasses.

If I had my glasses…

I’m looking for my glasses, and there they are, perched in the closet, which was the first place I looked in.

Names Again

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The first Oluchi I knew was a runny-nose crybaby in Primary One, the first Ernest a fair-skinned math teacher with huge nostrils who grinned as he strolled around you when you got a question wrong, before applying a cane to your unsuspecting back.

My first Ifeoma was a cheery, brilliant girl in my class who always had a smile on her face, my first Emmanuel a bully a class ahead of mine who seemed to derive some joy in blasting the ball into my stomach whenever I served as the goalkeeper during soccer games. My first Mustapha was one of my best friends in secondary school who was called the Professor because he explained the structure of DNA to an SS1 student while we were still in JSS1, and my first Sandra was a haughty but pretty girl who I had the misfortune to have a crush on.

I’ve noticed I can’t help it even today. Tell me about an Ifeoma and I think I want to meet her, because she’s sure to be spontaneous, cheery, etc. I was wary of one of my classmates named Ernest for a while until I decided he was ‘safe.’

I’m not a fan of Oluchi the model because there’s that link between her and a runny-nose. Emmanuels are okay with me, because I’ve met quite a lot over the years and they’ve almost always been ‘good guys.’ All Mustaphas are smart — at first — and all Veras have green eyes until proved otherwise.

If I were your first Azuka, would you expect any traits in the next Azuka you meet, or would you keep the personality profile blank until you found out more about him/her?

Being Cheap

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I first purchased stuff from the Dollar Tree in 2003. It was my first time in the US, and my teammates and I — from the 2003 National Geographic World Championship — were shopping at the University Mall in Tampa, Florida. I honestly didn’t know what to buy, but the fact that I was in a store where everything went for a dollar thrilled me.

I bought a lot of junk — $50 worth of junk, or 50 junk items — and when I emerged with about a hundred shopping bags clearly marked ‘Dollar Tree’, my teammates rolled their eyes at me. They later went in. Girls.

I haven’t been in there for quite a while, but a month ago, very broke (total assets: $8) and needing some stuff, my firends S–, E– and I walked into the Dollar Tree next to Walmart. I have very oily skin, excluding my hands and feet which turn white even in summer. Nothing I’ve used has helped, but I decided to try some $1 moisturizer, as well as some liquid bath soap.

“Are you sure you should be getting those?” E– looked very skeptical. “That stuff’ll probably burn holes in you.”

I’ve never been one of those who believe you get what you pay for. Cheap rules, or so I thought.

Two days after using my wonder moisturizer and soap, I started to notice lesions on my hands. My skin peeled off in places, and there was even some raw flesh on my palm. Okay, that’s not true.

They had the opposite effect. I got whiter hands and feet, and the soap even dried off my face (in winter I used to walk around with a shiny face). I convinced myself I just wasn’t using enough, and when it worsened, had to admit to myself that I’d been wrong. Not that E–‘ll ever know. 😀 .

So here I am broke again, and I think I know not to buy some things even if they’re just a dollar, but do I really?

Sweetie

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hello sweetie

That was the first message I sent when a friend of mine signed in after a long hiatus from Yahoo Messenger.

Understandably, she was shell-shocked.

This was the Azuka — who, a while ago wasn’t comfortable when others called him ‘honey’ or ‘love’ — using a word like ‘sweetie.’ It just came out, and I suppose I would have thought nothing of it if she hadn’t pointed it out.

Apparently, I’ve changed — and not just physically, as I thought, but in many more ways…

How have you changed?

Notebook

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I’ve always wanted one, I think — right from back when my Dad got a cheap Compaq running Windows 95 that his company was going to throw out. It didn’t have a battery, was slow as hell (I had no idea then) and had nothing of interest to the me of now, but back then it was a wonder.

As the resident ‘explorer’ in my family, I explored that notebook to death. I played those silly DOS games from morning till night, and dreamed about how cool it’d be to own one someday — I started writing code because I thought it’d be cool to do something most people didn’t understand.

Most of the laptops I saw were 15.4″, and I always thought I’d get one until I saw — and fell in love with — a 17″ Dell my (then) boss at CAD Consulting got. It wasn’t pretty, but it was big and that was what I liked (I’ll probably get a 20″ or 21″ sometime, when weight issues are taken care of).

Since then, I tried hard to get one. When I finally could afford one, I discovered the less-expensive ones just weren’t powerful enough. I went for a monster desktop instead, which I took with me on my trip to Nigeria this summer. Something must have gotten loose during the flights (I had three stopovers) because I didn’t pad the suitcase well enough, and you should have seen the loading “people” (what are they called?) toss it.

Everything was messed up when I arrived, and I didn’t make things better when I forgot to switch the power to 220v. PayPal decided to lock my account for logging in from a suspicious country. All the money I’d been saving towards a notebook went down the drain — repairs and unpaid credit card bills during the period. To make matters worse, even though I padded it properly on my journey back, I discovered something had gone wrong again, so I had to go back to my old baby. So I lost my chance … or so I thought.

I got an unexpected windfall last month and straightaway did some research. By balancing price and specs, I arrived at the Dell Studio 17.

So what do I like about my new notebook? First, it’s cool (I seem to be stuck on the word ‘cool’ today). It’s fast, it’s sleek. But I love the mobility most of all. I no longer have to stay 24 hours in my room.

Strangely, now that I have it, I don’t feel any different. Even though I moved almost everything I have just yesterday, it feels like I’ve been using it forever…