Shopping - A sad tale

I could be the worst shopper in the world.

I’m impatient, I’m ignorant, I refuse to hold onto hard-earned money and I don’t put enough thought into what I’m doing. Shop owners see me enter their store and their hearts skip a beat.

I can be talked into buying anything: “What are those, suburban driving gloves? You think they’d look good on me? How much? Only $350? Ok, I guess I should.”

If shopping was like trying to stay sober, I’d be Charlie Sheen. If it was a swimming event in the Olympic Games, I’d be representing the People’s Republic of Congo. If it was a test of sanity, I’d be a Scientologist.


Unlike some, I can’t wonder around a shopping centre without a purpose, trying things on and looking for a bargain. Once I get in, I need to get out. I make a bee-line for what I want and then get the hell out of there while I still have my money and dignity.

This kind of attitude leads to clothes that don’t fit properly, wasted money on things I don’t need and a bank account that shudders every time I reach for my debit card.

Honestly, I would rather continue wasting money and making bad purchases than do the required leg work to improve. I just don’t have it in me and I never will.

But, having said all of this, I admire great shoppers. People who buy good gifts are harder to find than my mates when a taxi fare has to be paid.

Good shoppers are the people you want buying for you in a Kris Kringle. They think outside the box, they spread their money around wisely, they use coupons, they shop around and get the right price, they try things on, they keep receipts and they have a great rapport with retail staff.

I put knowledgeable shoppers right up there with people who can kill spiders for me — invaluable in a time of need.

We are now entering the crazy shopping season. Everyone knows its coming, but few prepare themselves.

Shopping centres will soon be packed with stressed out mothers ready to kill at the drop of a hat. Every store will have an amazing special that you MUST take advantage of. B-grade musicians will have moderate success with Christmas albums featuring the 345th different take on Silent Night.

This is the time of year where my terrible-shopping brothers and I get found out. We get confused by the bright lights and attractive girls in Santa hats. We buy something, only to find it 20 minutes later at half the price. We walk in planning to spend $300-400... and leave owing a loan shark named Bruno $2,000.

With all this in mind and in the spirit of Christmas, I’d like to give an apology in advance to the people I’m buying for this year. You know who you are, you’ve politely pretended to like my gifts for years.

I’m going to try and do better this year. I promise.

Socks and undies are still in vogue right?

A proud legacy...sort of...

Having dinner with my grandparents is usually the highlight of my increasingly-boring weeks.

I enjoy keeping them company, deciphering my Nonno’s english and the look on my Nonna’s face as her husband of 60 years tells me how Deal or No Deal is rigged.

The last time I sat down with them, enjoying my Nonna’s cooking a little too much, we got to talking about what life was like when they first came to Australia from Italy.

They told me about how no one understood a word they said, how they had to overcome poverty and sickness to raise a family, how they taught themselves a new language, toiled on fields and made a new home.


By comparison, it makes my lifestyle today look like a walk in the park – which in reality is an understatement.

My grandparents have seen a fair bit in their time: World War 2, the first TV, the telephone, man on the moon, the Cold War, the Vietnam War, the medical revolution, the internet, reality TV, the Sopranos finale, Avatar, a black president and a female Prime Minister.

How did they manage to go through life without mobile phones, Facebook, Twitter and 38-hour work weeks for those first 70-odd years?

While we’re on the subject, what would my beautiful Nonna twitter in 1952?

Nonna_CoolJ: Just walked 22 kilometres to do some shopping, am off to cook for my husband, fend off snakes and pick peas in the farm. Thank God I was born in this era.

Every generation works hard so their children and grandchildren can have a better life.

In 20 years, I’ll be sitting down with my little son Dominic Jnr or daughter eBay, trying to get them to respect me and my plight and I’ll have nothing.

“I never copped a beating, fought in a war or faced any real hardship, but during my time… ummm… petrol prices were pretty high.”

“WOW dad! Tell us again about that horrible day you had to iron your own shirt!”

What legacy will we leave?

We were able to successfully justify laziness? We had the combined attention span of a three year old child? We stood idly by and let Paris Hilton become a celebrity?

I've had enough. I'm putting a stop to this. I'm going to stand up and do something memorable. Something my grandchildren can respect me for… right after I’m finished watching this show…