Wednesday, 26 July 2017

A Telling Difference.

I’ve said several times that I find being in a shopping mall an unpleasant experience, but I thought recently that maybe I shouldn’t. They are, after all, just the modern equivalent of old fashioned covered markets. Actually, they’re not.

The old markets sold things like provisions, basic clothes, simple household requisites, wool for knitting sweaters and fabric for making curtains. The aim of the old market stalls was to provide for people’s needs. The aim of the modern shopping mall is to persuade people to buy things they mostly don’t need. The shopping mall is a singular product of the consumer generation, and they put poor people under undue pressure because poor people are just as gullible as rich people.

So I’m back to treating them with the disdain they deserve.

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And should I mention that I committed an act of rank opportunism today? That’s unusual for me; opportunism is not generally my forte. I don’t think I’ll explain because I’m sorry to say that I was pleased with myself, and nobody lost anything and no harm was done. (She was Polish, by the way, and had the good grace not to indulge in seat-licking.)

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