OVER dinner some time ago, a friend recounted her experience running a drinks stall at the national agricultural expo, Maha.
Light-heartedly, she told us how people love to ask obvious questions, such as, “Air apa ni, kak?” (What drink is this?). And they do that in the face of a transparent container filled with orange slices and orange coloured-water, flanked by bottles of Sunquick orange cordial.
I supposed you’d have to say something, anything, to start a conversation, but it took a bit of restraint on her part not to roll her eyes and answer with something that is plainly untrue.
It took a lot more restraint not to lash out when one customer complained about her prices. The man had said her RM3 mango drink was too expensive and went on a rant about the economy and how people can’t afford that kind of prices.
But she did have cheaper options. A bottle of mineral water was RM1, and a smaller takeaway cup was RM2. And yet the man continued his tirade and insisted on a large mango, barely hiding his feelings that he was being short-changed, not just by this one drinks stall but all of existence.
So she gritted her teeth and gave the drink for free, saying she won’t take money from someone who can’t afford to buy from her. The man, rather shamelessly I feel, took the mango drink and went on his way.
My friend understood some of his frustrations; it just seemed futile and cowardly to take it out on her.
VALUE AND WORTH
It was an interesting anecdote at a time when an RM800 scarf can sell out in one morning. Or how an expensive sneaker/phone/concert ticket can draw a long line of buyers the day they go on sale regardless of how short the notice was.
These things hardly draw a complaint, at least not from a satisfied customer. When factors like demand and desirability come into play, there isn’t much that can stop a determined shopper.
It’s strange the way we value and put worth to something, as in what’s worth paying for and what’s not, and by how much. We prioritise one thing over the other and decide what to spend on. We take into consideration our happiness, well-being and convenience and that of the people we care about.
I don’t think any two person values the same thing the same way.
Crudely put; things have a price, and if you want that thing, you have to pay that price. Money is all relative, but only people with enough money can be arrogant enough say that money doesn’t buy happiness.
We live in a consumer society, where those who aren’t smart or strong-willed enough to survive it are punished. We’re surrounded by wealth, but if you happen to be poor, underpaid or unlucky, you can only look but not touch, and certainly not own.
For many of us the toil is endless. In spite of it, or because of it, we have the tendency to worship riches and luxuries like they make us a better breed of people, as if to say that these material things are proof of our worth in this world, even if we have to beg, borrow or downright steal to own the things that we have no right to owning.
Money as the end goal leads to selfishness, not prosperity. And this income inequality in our society is why I loathe hearing how people need to spend within their means. That is a given. What is not, is the hardship of having to spend reasonably when people are not getting their money’s worth in exchange for their labour.
My favourite author Sir Terry Pratchett pointed out in Interesting Times, and I’m paraphrasing here, when everyone is only having whiskers, claws and ears for their meals, someone is off pinching the meat.
And yet, continuing to make terrible financial decisions only results in having even less money. Short of a collective revolution, the individual has no real power to change the system as it is, but we can at least control our own pockets. It should be with the same awareness that we don’t short-change other people along the way.