When in South Africa

My first notable sales interaction ended up burned into my memory and has given me a healthy fear of buying pants. My parents, little brother and I were in South Africa visiting family and we ended up shopping at a local market. There was also a traumatizing experience involving baboons but that’s a separate story. The buying system of the markets ran largely off bartering, you never took the first price. For my little brother and my dad, the negotiations were more fun than the object they bartered for.

They had a good time talking down the prices while my mom and I stood back, being the more non-confrontational people in our group. I still have and wear the pair of pants from that day, they symbolize an embarrassing loss on my part.

I wanted a pair of harem style pants, so my dad took me around the bazaar to see the different offerings. The shop owners are amazing salespeople and post all the good qualities needed to make their living off selling. They were very observant. Any person who looked at an item for a little too long usually found themselves buying it.

Cue the shy kid staring at the pair of pants. Cue the bartering. The man was kind enough to even start the price lowering, so I must have looked terrified. I like online shopping where you don’t talk to anybody! “Lady for you, I cut the price in half,” I said no thank you and tried to walk away, “We have many different styles, what do you like?” Another no thank you came from somewhere behind my dad. I dragged him away from the shop, my heart pounding and adrenaline rushing; I am not the bravest person out there but that was a little wimpy even for me.

It got worse! Having been scared out of trying to buy anything myself, I trailed close to my slightly annoyed parents as we followed my bargaining king brother. Anytime we went near the pant stand the man and his helper would come rushing over with five different pairs of pants asking me if I liked any. “I’ll lower the price!” “I think you would like this one!” That poor man, my poor parents, all followed me around and around and out of the market. This is where I added insult to my own injury. Not quite ready to give up on getting pants, I sheepishly entered a more tourist centered store that did not allow bartering. The pants are blue.