Monday, 20 August 2012


Yesterday, as I walked down the aisle of a famous shopping mall (I don’t want a lawsuit beating down my door, so I’m quite sure you understand need for anonymity), I happened across a section carved out for commodities essential to celebrants of the Sallah festivities. As I wandered over to admire, an attendant yelled, “No! We don’t let everyone close to the shelves. Please maintain some distance!”

Disbelievingly, I turned around only to discover the dear man was yelling those words at none other than my good self!

Why would he speak so rudely and with such dirty and nasty insinuations? I was after all decked out in my best clothes which consisted of a rather worn-out, ‘was white’   t-shirt which was so old and threadbare, one could comfortably count my ribs through it; a pair of Jeans which had been washed into submission; and a sad pair of trainers with the big toe of my right foot poking out.

As I stood there, mouth agape at such unprecedented rudeness, the very same attendant escorted some lady, positively oozing wealth, right up to the shelf and hurried to grab a shopping cart for her, before leaving her to her own devices.

A puzzled glance around convinced me that only I and one other ‘down-on-his-luck’ guy had been restricted from approaching the shelves. Well to be frank, I could understand restricting that guy ¾ he did have a rather shifty and furtive look about him, but I was another matter entirely.

Drawing myself up to my ‘intimidating’ height of 5”4, I stalked to the shelves and started grabbing random items and stuffing them in my hitherto empty cart. In two seconds, the clerk was at my elbow as I expected, making a production of breathing down my neck and keeping an eagle eye on where everything I picked went. As I wasn’t with a handbag, and the top I had on was threadbare enough to be transparent, I wondered where the man expected me to stuff any harvests of sticky-fingers ¾ my mouth?

By the time I reached the grain section, I had had quite enough. I let a pack of beans slip from my fingers as I walked and naturally it scattered across the floor. Because the odious man was striding so energetically in my wake, he slipped on the grains and made a satisfying thump when he hit the floor.

For good measure, I loudly refused to pay for as single purchase. On hearing this, the fallen attendant got huffily to his feet and started towards me. I flashed a sweet smile at the tall distinguished gentleman now beside me and said in a voice that carried, “Daddy, that’s the man!”

The sight of the tall man stopped the clerk cold because ‘Daddy’ was his boss, owner of the freakin’ mall! Guess whose mouth was agape now? I felt like taking a bow! It was Sallah, and I had just slain a dragon without breaking a sweat!

Like they say, “Be careful what fingers you step on today because they may be attached to the ass you have to kiss tomorrow”.

Grinning at the subdued young man, I couldn’t wait for the grovelling to begin. If nothing else, he would never again treat anyone shabbily not even if they were dressed well... shabbily!
                                                                       Sherina Okoye


  1. An entertaining story. Was this for real?

  2. Hi Felix,
    What can I say? Some days are like that huh? *wink* Thanks for the compliment!

  3. I had a huge laugh when I read this piece. Good one, Sherina. Lol.

  4. Thanks Sandra. We aim to please. :)