A girl’s philosophy of buying a shopping trolley.

A shopping trolley is ergonomic, she thinks. It’ll save me from pain. So, where to buy one?
A shopping trolley is old-fashioned, something for grannies, you think? Not at the Queen Victoria market in Melbourne. Many people use it here, people of all ages. She definitely isn’t a granny. She is in her mid twenties, still studying, not really sure if she is looking forward to starting her career in one or two years.
As she finds her way through colorful market products, from hair combs to slippers to home-made cosmetic products, she finally reaches a little shop right in the center of the market with a great variety of trolleys. In black, red or blue, with insulation or without, with four wheels or with two.
She can’t decide. Spends time on looking, asking questions, checking, looking again.
He comes along, a grumpy guy, late fifties, probably the owner of the shop, talking rather to himself.

“C’mon! It’s just a trolley.”

She frowns.
This comment, although it was not directed, pushes her into contemplation.
Isn’t every choice in life somehow important? Of course this is really a girl’s thing. But any choice and even the smallest is part of a chain of choices, just like the first steps we take…

She mulls over a response, not taking her gaze away from the trolley, then faces the irritable guy:
“It’s only just one life we got.”

What she didn’t expect is the impact of this phrase.
The guy’s reaction is completely unexpected.
His face lights up astonishingly losing all testiness, at once. Almost as if this comment inherits a magic key that transforms him into someone else. It is the key to take away grumpiness, at once, and for a tiny moment it makes her endlessly proud.

The former bad-tempered guy asks now kindly
“And how did you go so far? Have you reached all you wanted in your young life?”
“Mmm…naaaaw. Not yet,” she smiles boldly.
He smiles back.
In the end she buys the ordinary black trolley that she personalizes with a tattoo style floral.