Showing posts with label price. Show all posts
Showing posts with label price. Show all posts

Saturday, 16 April 2022

The unquantified cost of replacement

Price versus value

“Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing.” Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray.

There is a tendency to view the quote above in terms of materialism alone, but I have been thinking for over a year of a perspective of value that some might consider, the cost of replacement.

Whilst this scenario could be extreme in its application, it best represents the discourse I am put on this blog. I bought some wines from South Africa a few years ago, most particularly South African port wine referred to as Cape Ruby. My intention was to present these as gifts to certain important people in my healthcare history, when I next saw them, with the view that the rarity and exclusivity would redound to my greater sense of appreciation and thanks.

Downed and out completely

However, that wine collection was decimated and quaffed down without my permission, the person thought if they left one of each on the wine rack, that would be fine. But, herein is my dilemma, the wine is not available in our shops and not on order. I had to visit the wine estate in South Africa to replace the wine and that was put off by 11 months because of the pandemic. This is considering I was in South Africa four times in 2019.

When I finally got to South Africa in December 2020, the country went into lockdown with an alcohol ban, so that was a missed opportunity. Another 11 months of pandemic restrictions ensued before I jetted off to our rendezvous in Cape Town, we immediately booked a wine tour and on arrival at the muster point, we learnt that our favourite wine estate had been acquired and its inventory was being moved to another location.

Invariably, there is no indication if I would ever again get my hands on the now more exclusive, if not elusive Backsberg Cape Ruby [PDF], which I have now determined has been discontinued. Basically, the replacement cost is now astronomically high, if not impossible to meet due to scarcity and circumstances beyond my control.

An escalating cost

I now appreciate the fuller value of what I have lost, not just based on the nominal cost, but in the passage of two years, the pandemic, and the discontinuation of the wine that the person who drank my wine cannot begin to understand. It breeds resentment and much regret at the kind of access I have granted them.

Even if they paid a premium for the Backsberg Cape Ruby, I cannot replace it, and that is the enduring annoyance in this matter. We may never recognise the full value of acquisition if we do not know the possibly considerable cost of replacement. It is a thieves’ mentality, the penchant for wanting for themselves without any consideration for others to the extent that armed robbers would maim and kill to steal material things as they place no value on life or property for their own ends.

Blog: In Nigeria, we've lost to all of them

To mitigate this, the lesson I took was to make provision for locally available wines whilst prohibiting drinking any of the South African wines though I might have considered putting them in some storage at additional costs to myself.

The cost is that of replacement

In the scheme of things, there are other privations for things I acquired for my personal use that have been squandered and lost to this lack of consideration. As one cannot predict availability, people should think before they use or abuse things, they either do not own or have not received the express permission to take.

The price of everything is easy to know and pay for, the value of that thing can however change due to various situations and circumstances, some not predictable and usually not accessible until the need to replace that thing, and it is not available. Indeed, I feel quite resentful about it.

Saturday, 12 September 2015

Berlin: The price tag misery in Germany

A drift from purpose
Being exhausted from a number of unexplainable things resulting in lacking focus and losing my drive that I was not being as productive as I would have liked, I had to get away.
It is quite possible that having not yet taken an annual holiday in over a year, I have become lethargic and somewhat listless, the concern of what to do for my 50th birthday in December is beginning to weigh on my mind too.
At this and I planned at the very last minute a weekend in Berlin where it is very possible all I will do is sleep in my hotel and get some rest whilst the world moves on, invariably, this will not help and it adds to my utter discomfiture.
No sleep for the determined
Yet, I still have some of that sharpness in my rather tired head, I have only just caught up on the sleep I lost for a whole night. Occupied by thoughts, I decided to fix my trusty Toshiba NB100 notebook. It runs an Intel Atom CPU and though it is specified to take just 1GB of RAM, at the point of sale, the shop manager replaced it with a 2GB module and it worked and that at no extra cost.
This was about 8 years ago, then it had Microsoft Windows XP which I upgraded to Microsoft Windows 7 and a few months ago I installed the Microsoft Windows 10 Preview which worked for a few days but the WiFi dongle that worked in the earlier version of Microsoft Windows conked out when I tried to update the drivers in Microsoft Windows 10 and with it an inability to boot up.
Nothing I did could fix the problem, even wiping the system and starting from scratch, so insomnia gave me the opportunity to start with the installation of Microsoft Windows 8.1 Professional and the Microsoft Office 2013 Professional, it was slow, especially the Click-to-run aspect that took almost a day.
Not what it says on the price tag
Anyway, I arrived in Berlin and decided to get a German SIM card for my dual-SIM phone, I walked into the electronics shop, asked for a SIM card and was presented with one that gave me a number of call minutes, a Short Message Service (SMS) texts and 1GB of data.
The SIM envelope had €9.90 printed on it, but I was being charged €19.95, at least that was what was on the till. So, I asked then to explain how they arrived at €19.95, the shopkeeper said he knows, but he could not show me how the figures add up.
I guess this is an interesting difference I have found between the United Kingdom and German, in the former, the price tag attached to an item takes precedent, in the latter, the price displayed at the till takes precedent. I was having none of it.
I got a better deal
For instance, so what happens if you go shopping based on the price tags or on an advertised price and find that at the till you are paying more than what the price tags indicated? The whole reason for price tags is obviated if the price of goods you want to purchase remains a mystery. I can understand if you need to barter, but a shop that uses price tags on goods must always match that price with what eventually gets displayed at the till.
In my view, it was a raw deal, and maybe in jest or seriousness, the shop manager said I will remember them after our exchange and dispute, indeed, I will remember them for failing to prove to me how they came to the price they wanted to charge me, besides, as I told them, I will probably get a better deal in town.
I did, for the same price, I got 5GB data, but the Germans desperately need a Trade Descriptions Act something that takes the mystery of pricing away from the price tag being some guidance that might only be proven at the till where you are probably embarrassed to pay up, because that is the norm – one I will never subscribe to.


Monday, 30 December 2013

Decade Blogs - Dupe Killa - The Broken Ones

Decade Blogs
Dupe Killa runs a familial posse of sisterly and maternal oversight on Twitter, and I first encountered her in one of those affectionate exchanges with her wards, I could not help but be engaged.
Besides, there are many times I have written blogs that pertain to the deepest things of the heart that she has commented on to commiserate, comfort and empathise.
It is on the basis of this that I asked her to contribute to my #YourBlogOnMyBlog Series commemorating my Decade of Blogging which she willingly acceded to.
Dupe Killa in The Broken Ones laments how we have lost our way, to pursuits of the ephemeral, in incessant self-aggrandisement and selfish acquisition of material things at the expense of purposeful and useful lives.
On Twitter, she is friend, sister, mum, follower and followed by the handle @dupekilla – Enjoy …
The Broken Ones…
How does one start to calibrate the damage of materialism and the emptiness it brings in the multitude of acquired ‘stuff’? Is it by the darkness of the void created by the blind pursuit of ‘things’? Or is it by measuring the reverberation of the sound of emptiness where reason (cold, deep and track-able) should have been loud, clear and objective?
Before our eyes, the pursuit of happiness has been blatantly reduced to nothingness. Nowadays, if you cannot touch it, use it, spend it, then it cannot be contributory to happiness. Under our watch, we eroded the time-tested methods of self-improvement and the uplift of humanity. We did not only move backwards, we stepped away entirely from the tracks of human progression.
We are broken.
The Sea and Broken Wings by LuneBleu
Maybe it is just me but run a system check on yourself too, please. How many people in your circle can build a car? Or a phone? How many can fix a broken device…any device? How many have created something new? Something different? Do you have anyone in your orbit who can create a flying object? Do you know anyone that still flies kites? Does anyone collect anything? Stones, shells, anything? Is anyone in your network a gardener? Do they dream of creating flower hybrids or new plants? Do they ponder with you, the quandary of creating seedless fruits? No?
Okay, turn the other cheek. Are your families and friends big shoppers? Label and brand hunters? Are you all ‘early arrivals’ to the latest gadgets’ markets? Do you find yourself gasping for the ‘next thing’ just after acquiring the current best thing? Do you keep questing, thirsting for more? Are you beset by a feeling of inexplicable dissatisfaction with your life as you know it even after ‘counting all your blessings’? Do you ponder for long moments the question: ‘what is this life’ and yet have no answers?
Are we not broken?
When technology over-dosed, we gorged and are now suffering the consequences. The world shrunk, everything became available without notice or manual. The choices we had were endless and it was always going to be tough making the right call. We inevitably made the wrong calls no thanks to Sod’s law. The simple life was too mainstream, so off that went. Why fix things when you can get a new one? So off went incremental knowledge too. What we forgot is that in fixing, we learn the whys, the hows and the ‘never-agains’
The biggest tragedy however has to be the wholesale monetisation of emotions. We want it and we want it now, flunk delayed gratification. We are broke… and broken. Saliently or otherwise, we have tacitly agreed that ‘everyone has a price tag’. The evidence of that lies in the fact that the very best of us simply asks that the price be high. What a tragedy that we all can actually be bought. What a degree of brokenness…
If perchance you find some recognition or truth in any of the above and want to make an effort to fix it, it is possible. You can try and fix yourself and then focus on ensuring the next generation are not beset by your ‘brokenness’ either genetically or socially. Focus on the little things: eat and drink sensibly… give rather than receive where possible… fix it if it is broken, don’t bin it… find some simple, yet special endeavour and dedicate yourself to it.
Ask how stuff works and see if you can replicate or improve it however crude your tools and methods. Create your tools. Consciously be at one with nature from time to time. Question everything in a progressive way. Pledge on behalf of the next generation: Never Again.
Life broke us. Can you fix you?
Broken pieces by www.JaqueWatkins.com


Sunday, 10 March 2013

Thought Picnic: Earning the Pryce of Revenge in England


England reveals you
Mr. Justin Bieber and his entourage that includes a management team that failed to manage the fallibilities of a pop-star turning into an adult with a fan-base that remains majorly a horde of delirious frenzied kids, might have left the country.
I have no particular dislike for the young man nor can I recognise any of his songs apart from the monotonous Baby that I could not listen to beyond the first minute before I felt like committing hari-kari.
However, England has a way of upending people, there is still a culture and expectation amongst us that foreigners fail to appreciate that they run afoul of all too quickly, Mitt Romney comes to mind.
Help this boy
Earlier, I had expressed utter disdain for the way he traipsed around London with his trousers sagging closer to his ankles than his hips, he deigned to appear literally two hours late, depending on who you believe on a school night for what was essentially a children’s party and then he had a run in with the paparazzi that Justin Bieber suddenly became Justin Bleeper for the expletives that were bleeped out in their encounter.
Walk away, he should have but his exuberance got the better of him and that became the news, that between the sympathy for collapsing on stage, going to hospital, growing older and the other issues as trying to get the under-aged into clubs for his birthday amongst many other things – one can easily suggest his management team be given the pink slip without delay.
Hell receives two new guests
As the saying goes, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” we have seen the intoxicating power of revenge and vindictiveness that it consumes all concerned without respite or mercy.
Chris Huhne, a successful businessman turned politician and member of the cabinet not too many moons ago, took his eyes off his wife of 26 years, Vicky Pryce and laid them on his assistant – all hell broke loose and what had been a marital secret with all the little things many will rather not get aired publicly became headline material.
Apparently, Chris has a penchant for putting his foot down hard, well, on the accelerator and cameras littering English roads seem to get excited at ordinary men playing Formula 1 games on our roads, the licence plate number is captured and a little research reveals who the car belongs to – a fine, some points on your licence and maybe a custodial sentence can slow you down to a grinding halt.
A virtuous wife
10 years ago, Chris was caught but he had accumulated enough points to lose his licence if he admitted to his folly, so out of the intricacies of marital God-knows-what, Vicky, the apparently careful driver, vicariously took the points that should have gone to Chris – a virtuous wife who laid down her honour for her husband or as she claims a wife badgered and coerced to do something against her will, her determination and resolve was raped.
So Chris announced to Vicky that he was leaving her, Vicky in her own right is a very successful economist decided all gloves were off and set out to teach her soon-to-be ex-husband a lesson by revealing this secret marital arrangement to the papers, conversations and emails on the matter are quite interesting, thereby ruining Chris’ career, livelihood, fatherly engagement and earning him a conviction that would most likely include jail time.
Oh Vicky, what have you done?
However, in revealing this Vicky had a fight on her hands too, to be able prove that she also did not pervert the course of justice – after one failed trial and another speedy trial, Vicky will most likely head for the slammer too, she might even end up serving longer than Chris in prison – two lives ruined just because one could not walk away.
The irony of this whole saga is that Vicky is now in another relationship with a politician who also had to resign his seat after admitting he submitted false expense claims. Obviously, I will not attempt to draw any conclusions as to the kind of woman Vicky is or the kind of men she attracts; though I am caught between careless and unfortunate.
Into a book of fables
This is no doubt one of the extreme cases where vengeance becomes a black hole, the vortex of which sucks everything into the pit of hell. In other cases, break-ups that have partners denying each other support, parental privileges and other unnecessarily hurtful things that make us less of the people we are or are able to be.
Sometimes you wonder about how people who sometime ago entered into the contract of holy matrimony with all the fanfare, happiness and I dare say, love - after the passage of time and drifting apart that they need to go separate ways turn out to be so bent on destroying each other – they, rather than cherish the memories of the good times they had together, they obliterate everything in the heat of the moment as if that can compensate for anything.
Many newspapers did not need much inspiration to come up with the headline – The Pryce of Revenge – this must go down in the annals of history as a fable and a lesson – If he/she don’t want you no more, walk away and live your life.
Vengeance is mine, always
As if we were not warned before, this is what the Holy Book says; “Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” KJV – Romans 12:19
Much as Chris should not have stepped on it trying Formula 1 tricks on English roads, Vicky should not have attempted to step into the Lord’s big shoes.

Sunday, 11 March 2007

My week in nut's hell

What a week

The events of the past week have been too difficult to put behind me, as I have ruminated over what I or we could do for my friend to help him, his family in Europe and myself have had thinking caps on trying to identify how to break through the iron curtain of denial and indifference to retrieve by force the man we once knew.

On Monday, I learnt that he had not caught the flight back home from Sunday and he was to have caught on Monday. My concerns were various, most critical being, if the police got involved, I would have been the last to see him; and he having left my home under a cloud would not have made the best reading for any suspicious mind.

Then, I heard he still was in Amsterdam on Monday night but would be catching a flight on Tuesday - thankfully, he arrived home safely on Tuesday, but clammed up to everyone wanted to hear the excuses.

Just as I was about to sigh in relief, I got a letter from my phone company that all international and premium calls would be barred from my phone - this could only be that unusual activity had taken place on a line that they would have had 7 years of records to and they would have noticed a pattern that was completely out of character with my usage.

An incalculable price

I cannot begin to imagine what other price I would have to pay for this whole saga, but this is all now a small thing, compared to the pressing issue of addressing a matter that could slip irretrievably out of our hands.

Meanwhile, I have kept contact with the family because comparing notes between the familial and the friends might help us home in on the core issues.

The bedroom has not seen much activity apart from the fact that I saw another little wad of money which I doubt I put on my shelf, all of which cannot begin to cover the cost of damage to material, goods or friendship.

One email would arrive in my friend's mailbox shortly, not to shoot him down but to awake him to the fact that if he needs help, we are all around to help out; however, this would require some really harsh decisions.

I could not spend the weekend in the house, I am still a bit distressed about it all, so, a long weekend in Antwerp is a breather most welcome.