Friday, January 12, 2007
Bought a pair of runners in Beirut today.
Not a big deal in itself but it is for me – just like I scoured the whole of Sydney for one pair of runners, I scoured the whole of Beirut for this one pair of runners.
Even then, like with almost everything I do, I was in two minds about it – the fit in this case.
The salesman clinched it – ‘’trust me, they’re the right fit, my name’s Mustafa and if they don’t fit well, when you’re wearing them invoke curses upon me’’.
Who needs a consumer protection agency when you can ‘’invoke curses upon'' people who sell you the wrong thing?
Although I had looked forward to walking around in ill-fitting shoes muttering curses under my breath cartoon -style (‘’coises, coises!’’), curses weren’t necessary because they turned out to be a perfect fit and subsequently I invoke blessings upon Mustafa when I wear them.
Mustafa (like most workers in Lebanon) might get paid peanuts but he has my blessings.