The red blanket
CHILE | Wednesday, 2 July 2008 | Views [52]
The woman simply would not barter. I tried every trick in the book; smiling, frowning, pretending to walk away. Nothing worked. She scoffed at my first offer. She growled at my second.
“Last year, yes you could have your price.”
“But I was not here last year, on the island of Chiloe, I’m here now.”
I pulled out all my money and laid it in her hand. It was .80 cents shy of the $20 she was asking, and I knew it. I wanted the red blanket so bad, but not from someone who wouldn’t give in just a little. She was in her sixties, robust and scowling. She counted the money.
“.80 cents more. That’s one kilo of bread. I need to eat, you know.”
“So do I,” I argued. I mean come on lady, I’ve driven for 5 months in a car to get here in time to purchase this blanket before anyone else does.
We glared at each other for a long time.
She handed me back the money. I walked away. The blanket sat in a pile with all the others. And it was a sad, sad day.
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