A dark-skinned man walked to the cashier holding a bag of what looks like "siam super special" rice. He meekly asks the cashier - "Berapa?" (Malay for "how much?"). The cashier glared at him for a bit before snatching the bag scanning the bar code.
"Emfatfuloe..", Gibberish was being uttered by the cashier with her head faced down and not the least bit interested in making eye contact with the man, it was as if deliberately not wanting to talk to him. From where I could stand, I could see the price - RM 42.50. Holy Grapefruit! - That's pricey for a bag of 10 kg rice. Then again, I'm more used to the lower price range of local white rice; the extravagant prices of "higher end" rice such as brown rice have little appeal to one who strives to thrift like me.
"Empat puluh dua ringgit lima puluh sen!" (Malay for RM42.50) the cashier raised her voice, which shocked both myself and the dark-skinned man. It was as if she was annoyed. With the bag of rice in his hand, he retreats away from from the cashier.
I have then begun a ride on a roller coaster of assumptions in his head - "Things are getting more and more expensive, and my pay is not increasing" - "Can't poor people have nice things?" - "I know I don't belong here, but do you have to raise your voice like that? Treat me less than human?" - "Well, at least things here are better than back home".
