Simple admin just isn’t so simple in the third world. Running out to retrieve office supplies can quickly turn on you and become a cultural clash of ill communication, awkwardness, and adventure.
Last Friday I was sent out with the driver and the local helper to load up on stationary. As we all know, Friday is the holy day in a Muslim country, so finding an open shop becomes more difficult than one might think. So, we’re bumping our way down this narrow market street and we find a place with its door open, but the lights are off. The helper jumps out and invites himself into the shop and asks permission to do business. After some yammering in Bangla, the shopkeeper agrees. Before I know it I’m in this dark, durge little stationary store making aggressive demands and negotiating for the items on my list while the shopkeeper offers me one of everything, and often different variants of the same thing. The pile of stationary grows quickly as all the little helpers - his seven sons, I suspect - climb up and down the ladders grabbing everything I point at (and other items in the vicinity in the hope of a sale). Next, the wad of cash comes out to pay the man for this pile of stationary, and activity comes to a grinding halt as 8 pairs of beady eyes watch keenly as I peel off a few thousand takas from the stack. The payment goes down and I have a new best friend. He gives me a wide, jagged-tooth smile and firm double handshake for the business.
I love how the simplest transactions make the vendors so thrilled here. Basic commerce is at it’s finest in a place like this. I step out onto the street (down the sketchy step and over the gutter) and look up and down the street. It’s all shops; small, dark, rundown little shops. Dozens and dozens on this narrow street in a city with hundreds and hundreds of streets just like this one. Everyone is just trying to get by on their tiny piece of a tiny pie, but their focus and energy on this basic form of commerce is amazing. This is what they do in this world, and they find happiness in being here. The air stinks, but somehow, it’s kind of refreshing.
