I hate the mall
It is one of those places where the individual goes unnoticed. A monument to the overpowering weight that money making has over every part of our lives.
That big ugly building full of truckloads of crap, made by poor people with the cheapest of ingredients one can find and then packaged with a sprinkle of marketing to make us buy it just to make bigger and bigger profits is definately not my favorite place to visit.
It was not always like that, our relationsip with the mall. Coming from an ex communist country, where capitalism was equated with evil, I was quite mesmorised by it.Â My eyes sparkled in the empty promises. I could spend hours, just browsing (see, I know the lingo).
But now I dont buy it anymore. None of it. The mall is impersonal. Its not like our fruit and veg shop, where we chat with the family that runs it. The woman comes around and asks us how we are, where are the rest of the clan, if we are not together. The man will pass by and smile and play with Baby Blab. We can chat about the produce, suggest a product or ask if something we are after is available.
There are no little shops, run by the same family for years there. Someone somewhere decided that they could make a buck from an item. That is the only reason you see it in their shop. There is no pride in the products they offer, nor in the production they chose. You dont get to see the faces of the people that are actually selling things to you. One wonders why we actually trust them and do business with them at all.
[…] things. Dont get all scared on me, I will not take it out on you. This has nothing to do with my love for the mall. So, I am there in the queue waiting for my turn to fork out the money and I engage in trolley […]