Chapter 9: Chapter 9 – A Rich Woman Haggles Over a Few Pennies

I load up my food vending tray and go out to crowded places to sell food. Soon I have only six crackers left on the tray.

A woman is in the process of closing down her shop for the day. She has a five-story building built in French country style, with a balcony with ironwork railings on each upper floor from the second floor and up. The building sits on a corner of Freedom Square, on the side facing the popular Saigon Bar.

A jewelry store, with its dominating front wall made of glass, is situated on the ground floor. Inside the store, a chandelier glows with dazzling gleams, and in the showcases, hanging gold necklaces glitter, and diamonds sparkle on their trays.

All around the outside of the building, stalls on wheels, protected from the weather by colorful canvas roofing, carry household goods, shoes, fabrics, popular liquors in the world, and fruits and vegetables.

Her workers are busy wheeling the stalls into the storehouses inside the building, while she stands looking on and bossing them.

I imagine she uses the ground level for the business and enjoys four big open floors for her family. I would put my new makeup business on the ground floor, the sitting and kitchen area on the second floor, my bedroom on the third floor, and Mom's bedroom on the fourth floor. I would keep the top floor empty for Dad to use at his discretion if he ever returns.

I say, "I have only six crackers left to sell. Would you please buy them, ma'am? So I can go home."

"I already had dinner," she says, frowning.

"But the crackers are for a snack."

"How much do you want for them?" she says, her face relaxed into a closed-mouth smile.

"I'm selling them for five cents apiece now. It was twenty-five cents apiece," I say.

She says, "How about five of them for fifteen cents? I don't want the one that is chipped off and sagging at the edge."

"OK," I say.

She removes the safety pin which holds the top edges of her blouse pocket securely together, takes out some coins from the pocket, and counts them into my palm. She says, "Oops! I pay a nickel too much." She quickly plucks a nickel out of my hand, and drops the nickel back into her pocket, again the safety pin securing the pocket closed.

I wrap five crackers in a lotus leaf piece, wondering what need she has to haggle. In Vietnam, child peddlers are so common that no one feels sorry for them.

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