I went to Rome back in September 2006 for a good friend's wedding. And whenever I travel, I tend to pack very light. Any experienced traveler knows that the more stuff you bring, the more stuff you gotta carry. So, knowing that I wanted to spend about a month total in Europe, I decided not to bring a suit and just buy a nice shirt at one of the shops there. I didn't plan on wearing a jacket as it was pretty hot there.
The day before the wedding, I went out and looked for a place to buy the shirt. And, if you know anything about Italians, they take their fashion seriously. Went inside one place and as I walked in, I felt a condescending feeling from the workers there. Apparently, I should have dressed up better before I went into their store. I would think that they would want a guy like me, who in their mind, needs their store. But, I looked around and I saw something that convinced me that I really didn't belong there. They had a clearance section where the cheapest item was a t-shirt that cost 80 euros. After doing a quick Euro to Dollar conversion, that t-shirt would have cost $100. For a t-shirt! I didn't even bother to look at anything else. And, as I walked out of the store, I chuckled to myself at the 50 euro "designer" solid black socks. What the hell??
Walked around more and found more stores that weren't as pricey as the first store, but still way above what I wanted to spend. I thought, maybe I should go shopping in the "bad" part of Rome, which coincidentally wasn't too far from my hotel room. Yup! Finally found a small shop owned by a short, rounded Italian woman with a warm and friendly, welcoming vibe. Conversed with her using all the phrases I learned from the Italian phrasebook. She picked out a few shirts in my size. Tried them on and settled on this Ivory colored one. The price was 35 Euros. I only had 25 euros on me. So I asked her if she accepted credit cards. She said no. I suspected that she actually did accept credit cards, but didn't want to do a bunch of paperwork. Then I told her that I had to go to the ATM. She then asked me how much cash I had. I shrugged my shoulders and pulled the 25 euros from my pocket. She smiled as she grabbed the 25 euros from my hand and gave me the shirt wrapped in a nice box. Grazie!
I thought, Cool, as I walked away, purely satisfied with the deal I got. About a block from the store, I suddenly realized that if I would have just pulled out the 20 euro bill, and left the 5 euro bill in my pocket, she probably would have accepted that. Dammit! I turn to look back at the store to witness her locking it up and shutting down for the day. She walks toward my direction, still with the big smile on her face. And as she passes by me, she reaches out and squeezes my arm. 2 things I learned that day: everything's negotiable and never let 'em know how much money you have or are willing to spend.
The day before the wedding, I went out and looked for a place to buy the shirt. And, if you know anything about Italians, they take their fashion seriously. Went inside one place and as I walked in, I felt a condescending feeling from the workers there. Apparently, I should have dressed up better before I went into their store. I would think that they would want a guy like me, who in their mind, needs their store. But, I looked around and I saw something that convinced me that I really didn't belong there. They had a clearance section where the cheapest item was a t-shirt that cost 80 euros. After doing a quick Euro to Dollar conversion, that t-shirt would have cost $100. For a t-shirt! I didn't even bother to look at anything else. And, as I walked out of the store, I chuckled to myself at the 50 euro "designer" solid black socks. What the hell??
Walked around more and found more stores that weren't as pricey as the first store, but still way above what I wanted to spend. I thought, maybe I should go shopping in the "bad" part of Rome, which coincidentally wasn't too far from my hotel room. Yup! Finally found a small shop owned by a short, rounded Italian woman with a warm and friendly, welcoming vibe. Conversed with her using all the phrases I learned from the Italian phrasebook. She picked out a few shirts in my size. Tried them on and settled on this Ivory colored one. The price was 35 Euros. I only had 25 euros on me. So I asked her if she accepted credit cards. She said no. I suspected that she actually did accept credit cards, but didn't want to do a bunch of paperwork. Then I told her that I had to go to the ATM. She then asked me how much cash I had. I shrugged my shoulders and pulled the 25 euros from my pocket. She smiled as she grabbed the 25 euros from my hand and gave me the shirt wrapped in a nice box. Grazie!
I thought, Cool, as I walked away, purely satisfied with the deal I got. About a block from the store, I suddenly realized that if I would have just pulled out the 20 euro bill, and left the 5 euro bill in my pocket, she probably would have accepted that. Dammit! I turn to look back at the store to witness her locking it up and shutting down for the day. She walks toward my direction, still with the big smile on her face. And as she passes by me, she reaches out and squeezes my arm. 2 things I learned that day: everything's negotiable and never let 'em know how much money you have or are willing to spend.
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