Cracks in the varnish …


I walk out of our house during a weekday in Rabat. The sun knows in between rain showers how to shine and even though it is early in the morning its sparks are clear. Our slightly sloping street has become extinct. People are at work and the waste containers are neatly lined up on the street side. The neatness drips from the unanimity.
But neatness can also be a thin layer of varnish in which the cracks are quickly visible.
Anyway, let me just tell you.
It starts a week ago. As always, I walk into the supermarket Marjane to do some shopping. Cart from the outside to the inside and I get started. I buy muesli and a big bag of dog chunks. Push the cart in front of me to a place where I let it stand for a while to walk along some shelves. I hate pushing a shopping cart along the often too crowded aisles. I prefer to walk past the shelves, grab my things and deposit them in my strategically parked shopping cart. So today is no exception.
As I walk back to the place where I thought I would have put the cart down, I do not see a cart. At first I look around to see if I am looking at the right place, but soon I see my dog ​​chunks and muesli neatly put on the ground.
My cart was taken away by someone else.
Internally it is already bubbling, but above anything else I can not believe this. This impudence. I think of a hidden camera action for a moment. It is a kind of irritated confusion about so much laziness. I try to imagine what it is like. You walk into the store without a trolley. You have a half idea of ​​what you want to buy, but as your arms become full of groceries and there is no space left, you think you really need a shopping cart. And so you look for a cart without or at least few groceries that is left alone by the temporary owner. You see one, look left and right if you see the owner and then you quickly get the few things in it out, throw yours in and get away. A face of killing innocence and a pass that does not show that you want to go faster than normal, so that the previous ‘owner’ does not notice anything.
Something like that.
I speak to two nearby sales clerks and let them feel my irritation. But the astonishment prevails and they feel that I can actually laugh about what happened. I recognize their reaction in the meantime. They scurry away as if they are looking, but they are actually running away from being caught in this dilemma. In the meantime, every shopping cart owner is a potential thief when it comes into my field of vision. But it is, of course, a mission impossible. Eventually I walk outside to get a new cart.
In the evening at the table it is already turned into a great story.
Three days later. Again I am on the road and armed with cart I enter the Marjane. The cart is reasonably filled and I scoop the shelves off in the way I know. When I roll back to fill the cart, the feeling comes back to me. Here stood the cart right? But there is now a small blue hand basket with clearly my groceries. Heh? Again? What is this? This must be a joke. So you have not thought about your shopping list yourself and you realize halfway that you are in need of unloading someone else’s cart in your basket and going on yourself with another one’s cart? For real?
I am really bubbling right now. This is no longer funny. Why? WHY? Now I do not have to do so much shopping myself, so I’ll will manage, but the shamelessness, the bluntness and the storkiness are really incomprehensible to me.
I try to leave it behind me, go to the cash register and at the moment that I want to leave with my shopping cart at the cash desk, a guard says to me. “Sir, you can not take this outside. You really have to leave it here. ”
And then it goes wrong.
‘Do you know sir if you ensure that people do not steal my cart, then I will also stick to the rules. Not now. First make sure people behave. ‘
But in the anger, these kinds of Dutch phrases come out in awkward French and usually far more clumsy than I want. But the guard does feel my intention.
“But you can not do this sir. I even want to get a cart for you. ”
“No, I’m not going to wait, I’m going out now! I will put the stuff in the car and I will show you what a good upbringing means.’
And I leave the guard bewildered behind. I do not want to even let his good intentions sink in with me. Some people around us see my anger towards him and that makes his position even more uncomfortable.
I throw the groceries in the car. And I walk in an angry speed back to the guard. Pontifically I give him back the basket. “That’s how it should be, sir.”
How pedantic you can be. What a storkiness on my part. I do not honor my neat street. What did that well-meaning guard do? And he even wants to help.
In the evening, my wife concisely summarizes: “I understand, but you should not have been doing it like that.”
Only a few days later, our neighbor on a Saturday morning put another penny in the bag. Overheated response to an apparent triviality that can also be solved in a different way.
Neatness then appears only a thin layer of varnish…


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