Welcome back to my blog for Part 2 of my shopping trip to the damn Mega Plaza.
In yesterday’s post, I took you on a mundane journey from my home in Lekki to the damn Mega Plaza mall. I left off yesterday’s post having gone to two office supply shops, but still without the fuse necessary to operate my uninterrupted power supply (UPS) box.
At the second office supply shop, I was instructed to go to the second floor to try to find a fuse. You see, the damn Mega Plaza is not a mall in the way that Americans think of a mall. The entire second floor is just a large, open space of hodge podge electronics, household wares, workout equipment, and pool tables. Yes, they sell VERY expensive pool tables on the second floor of the damn Mega Plaza.
The first floor of the damn Mega Plaza is where you can find separate, but nearly identical (see previous post) office supply stores and I think a jeweler. The middle of the entire first floor of the damn Mega Plaza is lined with various household appliances, like stoves, washers, dryers, refrigerators, and microwaves.
The third floor of the damn Mega Plaza is the closest to an actual mall look and feel. There are people with kiosks in the middle, a public toilet, a restaurant, a flower shop, a men’s clothing shop, and a women’s accessory shop.
Back to the adventure…
I went to the second floor and walked up to a lanky national guy standing behind a glass case. His arms were folded, but he seemed plesant enough.
“Good afternoon,” he barked, but gently, in what I have become accustomed to as a pleasant, Nigerian greeting.
“Good afternoon, sir,” I politely returned. “Do you sell fuses?”
“SELL WHATTT?” he demanded. Already frustrated, I just opened my purse, and produced the tiny, blown out fuse that R had given me the previous night. “These things? Ah! No. We do not sell them,” he responded, and sat back down in his chair, staring up at me, possibly disappointed that I was not there to buy an overpriced, curved television or gaudy coffee table.
“Do you know where I can buy them?” I inquired.
“Go! Go over there!” he pointed, directing me to go over to another man, this man in a bright, yellow shirt, sitting down, also with his arms crossed. He was already looking over at me.
“Thanks,” I replied and began to walk across the second floor of the damn Mega Plaza.
“Sir, do you sell these?” I asked, gently placing the tiny fuses on the counter.
“These, yes, I can get for you. This one, no, I do not have,” he answered. “I will get them.”
The yellow shirted man stood and began to walk away. Because I am a little hard of hearing, I do not always catch all of the words or implied meanings of what is said to me.
“Madam! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? COME!” he yelled back at me. I hurried along, unsure of what was happening.
We walked to what we can now call the third corner of the damn second floor of the damn Mega Plaza, near the expensive pool (also known as billiards, I suppose) tables and exercise equipment. “Stay here!” he said, pointing to a single tile in the floor. Afraid to mess up anymore, I actually placed both of my feet into the single tile to which he pointed, and tried to look normal and like I belonged there. All three employees stared at me until I suppose they were satisfied that I was acceptable to be in the third quadrant of the damn Mega Plaza’s second floor.
I looked around awkwardly, until I noticed this:
One of the employees was casually and continuingly riding a stationary bike for fun. I found this behavior both humourous and fascinating. DIdn’t he have something to clean or something else to do? Perhaps everything else was done. All that was left to do was to ride the stationary bike for fun. Perhaps it was a perk of the job.
After a few minutes, the yellow shirted man from the second quadrant of the damn Mega Plaza’s second floor returned.
“HERE. IT IS THIS,” he said loudly, shoving two small, plastic wrapped fuses into my hand.
“Oh, thank you very much,” I shouted after him, starting to trot a bit to keep up as he walked off quickly. “Umm, sir, where do I check out? What is the price?”
He paused long enough to look back at me and waved his hand. I knew that the gesture meant that my fuses were FREE.
“GEE! Thanks, mister!” I belted out, not only signifying that I am American, but also watched a little too much “Leave it to Beaver” as a child.
I tucked the fuses deep into my purse, thought of myself as a little goblin protecting “my precious” and hurriedly rushed down the two flights of stairs and past the security guards. Once I’d passed them, I called my driver.
My driver took FOREVER to come. I stood there, feeling like I had actually stolen the fuses. And of course, when I looked over to my left, I saw these dudes:
They looked at me long and hard, kind of taking turns sizing me up. I told myself that they were probably just admiring my terrible hairdo or crookedly painted toenails. I tried to avoid as much eye contact as possible, but I had to coyly take a photo.
In an effort to look like a harmless tourist, I also decided to take a selfie.
When I did so, three gentlemen were walking by and one shouted, “BEAUTIFUL!”
GEE, thanks mister! I thought, as my driver arrived and ended my shopping day at the damn Mega Plaza.