Street Hassle

It's a well documented fact that New York is among the most expensive cities in the world. While living there I was always looking for a way to cut corners on my expenses. Oddly enough though, at work, I never once considered bringing my lunch instead of spending a few dollars each day to feed myself. I relished the challenge of finding lunch for the least amount of money while also providing myself with the greatest amount of food. My food quality standards, as you can imagine, were not very high. I was a regular patron of McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's and in one of those low moments, Taco Bell. One of the ways by which I discovered I could save $.50 or more each day was by purchasing a soda from a street vendor rather than a fountain soda from a fast food or deli-style restaurant. These street vendors were strange little kiosks, really, with one person holed up inside all day. With precious little more room than a phone booth, these stands seemed like they were independently run and freewheeling. I tried out the various street vendors near my office for their soda selection and in so doing discovered that their prices on cans varied. You'd think a can of soda would be the same from corner to corner - but oh no - the (mostly Indian) men who operated these "establishments" were free to set their own price within certain parameters. One vendor was selling at $.75, another at $.85 and then I found a guy who would sell me a can of soda for $.65! This was my man!

For several weeks I paid this street vendor a regular visit. It was always the same guy who always gave me that same cock-eyed grin until one afternoon I walked up looking for my soda when I noticed that a different clerk was manning the kiosk. A bit older (but still Indian) this new "minder of the store" looked at me a little more severely. The other younger clerk seemed to be a lot more spacey and easygoing compared with this guy. I had a bad feeling when I put my can of Sprite on his makeshift counter that the days of my $.65 cans of soda were coming to an end. Sure enough this new clerk saw my soda, looked me squarely in the eye - as if to say I know who you are and I'm onto to your scam. No more $.65 sodas for you pally - and said
"Seventy-five cents."
But I was not having it and protested as if he was way out of line for increasing his prices. The other guy and me - we had a deal! Who did this numbskull think he was???
"What do you mean seventy-five cents I always come by here and get my sodas for sixty-five cents!"
"Seventy-five cents", he persisted.
"That's bullshit. Fuck you!" I exclaimed as I threw my money at the clerk and stormed off.
"Fuck you" he answered in a softer tone heavily accented by Hindi.
You'd think after that exchange I'd never return to that kiosk but instead I kept checking back to see if my guy would return. A few days later he did and I resumed my sodas for $.65 "scam" avoiding the kiosk when the stern "older brother" was there. But eventually the younger clerk stopped showing up at all - maybe he was promoted to another, more profitable kiosk in mid-town and I found somewhere else to get my sodas. But no one else would sell me sodas at $.65.