MASHED OUT

MASHED OUT.

I stood transfixed in front of the supermarket freezer, nose pressed against the glass, where the glistening packets of frozen potato mash, adorned with beguiling artwork and colours, pulsated and blew sultry kisses at me.

 Come on, they said, you know you want us.

“Yes!” I answered, heart thumping. “Yes! I do want you!”

“Are you alright?” came a voice. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. The young shop assistant who had been stacking shelves on the other side was now behind me.

“Oh…oh, I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “Things have been rather tough lately. Those dancing packets of mash are taunting me.”

The assistant frowned and stepped backwards.  “What are you talking about?” she asked. As I turned back to the freezer, there were no gyrating packets on the shelf. Had I imagined it? “Maybe you should see a doctor if you’re feeling stressed,” she suggested,

“Yes, maybe you’re right,” I agreed. “Thank you.” Was I going mad?

The cost of living had skyrocketed. Inflation was out of control.  Almost daily, prices were jumping to ridiculously high levels. The mash was the latest victim of grossly hiked shopping costs.

I stared at the freezer display in total dismay and my spirits began to flag. There was a special occasion to prepare for.

I had invited a couple of struggling neighbours for dinner and had grand plans for a memorable meal. Trying to make ends meet had drained my energy and sapped my savings. It was beginning to appear as though I would need to apply for some overtime hours and also take on a side hustle.

The cheery Christmas music being played over the sound system caused me to reflect on the situation. Come on, it’s Christmas. Your neighbours need something to lift their spirits in this harsh economic climate. Caring about and providing for others; isn’t this the very essence of the season? But the coveted frozen mash was way out of reach. The struggle was real. What was I to do? How would I cover the cost? The monthly expenses had just been directly debited from my account, including the mortgage payment, but maybe there would be enough left for this shopping expedition.

“Come on babies,” I uttered as I reached for the freezer door. “Come to Mumma.”  My imagination flooded, picturing myself cooking up a beautiful roast chicken, with Rosemary seasoning, served on a bed of creamy hot mash, covered in lashings of gravy. Those packets of potato were an integral part of my plan to make others happy. Yes, I needed that mash.

At that point, my mobile dinged, shaking me out of my daydream. “Warning,” flashed across the screen. “Your account balance is extremely low.”  I stared at my banking app with disbelief. My account was empty. Almost. I had five dollars left.

The wonderful vision of a friendly gathering continued to fill my mind. But it wasn’t going to happen with five dollars.

In a flash, I had a brilliant idea. A loan. A personal loan, just until I could get back on my feet and regularly afford the luxury of mash once again. I had read about others gaining on-the-spot loans: why couldn’t I?

Abandoning my trolley, I hightailed through the supermarket doors and headed for my local bank branch. It was two o’clock, and they would be open again after the lunch break. Surely, I could plead emergency circumstances to the finance officer, and they would be only too pleased to assist.

As I stood at the counter and asked to see the loans manager, I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn’t flatter myself that they would greet me with open arms and throw money my way. On the other hand, maybe it was worth a shot.

The manager peered down his nose and raised his brows sympathetically when I explained the urgency of the situation.

“Let me get this right. You have found yourself severely financially challenged and you’re requesting a personal loan for shopping?”

I nodded furiously. “Yes. You see, it’s Christmas and I’m providing a meal for some friends who are also finding things difficult. I desperately need to buy frozen mash.”

“Well,” he replied. “I truly understand. I really do. Buying mash these days seems like a dream. The struggle is real. Believe me, there are hundreds in the same boat. However, I’ll just check your credit history with us.” He entered my details into the computer. “I see you have always honoured your repayments,” he stated. “Your record is good, but presently there is only five dollars in your account.  However, being the season of goodwill, I can offer you a gesture of an on-the-spot instant loan, as a side borrowing to your mortgage. We currently offer a very competitive interest rate of 30%.” He shuffled papers. “Normally you would be required to make an appointment for this type of transaction, but since it is Christmas, I can transfer five thousand into your account immediately.”

My stomach sank. Goodwill? 30%? Yikes. But there was no other way. “Alright,” I agreed. “Thank you.”

He wrote something down and shuffled more papers. “Come back at four o’clock. I will draft up the paperwork for you to sign.”

Meekly I nodded and beat a hasty retreat to finish my shopping. Hopefully, my abandoned trolley would still be waiting where I had left it.

By the time I returned to Price Gougers, my phone dinged. I checked the banking app. Sure enough, five thousand appeared immediately. With a lift in my step, I breezed through the shopping and filled the trolley, especially with several bags of the precious mash.

I was in a dream as the checkout operator efficiently passed everything through. Oblivious to the cost, I flashed my card and proceeded to the carpark. I was mashed up again.

I stopped to check the account balance. There should have been enough for another few weeks. But my jaw dropped.

My bank account was empty. Almost. I had five dollars left.