My Italian wife as a pro buyer

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Story 1: My Italian wife at an Italian market.

Tuscany, summer 2016. We are in the center of Florence, where the Mercato Centrale is delighting its first visitors with delicious Italian specialties. A true ode to Italian cuisine in all its glory.

But many vendors also target tourists. The pre-mixed herb sachets for all sorts of pasta sauces are a prime example: arrabbiata, siciliana, matriciana , you name it. But also specific olive oils, balsamic vinegars, dried porcini mushrooms, and so on.

But many products are being "touristed": pasta in colors with their own flavors—black, red, green, pennette tricolore —we know that. But farfalle with artificial colors mixed together? It looks like candy and candy canes. Pasta for the eye, as, ahem, an authentic souvenir. For commerce. Give me pasta for the taste!

Nella lets herself go and invests in high-quality Italo scarves, belts, bags, foulards... under the motto: it's real leather, silk, cashmere, and in our country, that costs a fortune. She negotiates more shrewdly and harder than the average boot dweller. I witness the spectacle with a mixture of vicarious embarrassment, discomfort, and proud pleasure during this haggling match.

She regularly goes for what I consider an indecent offer. The mamma mia's are in the air, the vendors throw their arms to the heavens, or fold their arms together, inwardly begging, praying, "Lord of Mercy ," as if they have to sell their own mother, but in the end, she gets her price, while the market vendor, rolling his eyes, huffing and puffing, and shaking his head, mumbles that he's never done that before, that the end is almost near, " Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani, my God, why have you forsaken me?" suggesting that he won't be able to feed his hungry bambini tonight and that he's probably doomed. After a few "porca miseria's" and a near heart attack, we all say our goodbyes politely.

Unfortunately, there are also many African hucksters. Nothing against us people of different colors, mind you, but it's not the same. Shorter, more aggressive, so trading becomes less fun, and it's often junk, fake plastic, fake jewelry, unfinished products. Not our thing. Everywhere here, they follow you with selfie sticks, with or without a tripod. We say no a hundred times. But they're constantly shoved in your face. The question of how much it costs escapes me. €20! Then comes phase 2. As you walk on, they shout, "How much do you want to give?" Nella: "€5!"

Phase 3. They say no. We move on…

Phase 4: They're following you. "€5 is okay, signora…"

Anyway. After Nella's shopping spree, I felt happy and relieved. Now all her shopping and gift-buying plans had vanished from the holiday schedule in one fell swoop, early in one morning. A mistake, I will find out later.

Story 2: Mattresses.

We need new mattresses and decide to buy an expensive Swiss Flex . After much negotiation, the salesperson sets the price. Nella insists on a discount. "Madam, we don't give discounts." Nella: "I want 15% less!" After some back and forth, the man starts whining, no, shouting: "Madam, you can't do that!" Nella: "Yes, you can. Besides, I want that pillow over there for free."

Conclusion: we obtained a Swiss mattress minus 15% and a free pillow.

A year later, my brother Tom goes to the same store to buy a mattress. After closing, my brother says, "I want a discount." "Sir, we don't give discounts!" Tom says, "You do. My sister-in-law once got 15% off here." The salesman, half-furious, says, "That Italian one! That Italian one!"

Story 3: A Konica Minolta Bizz Hub (multi-function photocopy machine)

For my company, Perfect+, we need a new photocopier. Minolta's representative, Dimitri Szostak , and I are negotiating the type, needs, pros and cons, terms and conditions. After the technical side of things, I tell him I'll leave it to my wife, Nella.

My three coworkers can overhear the conversation and roll their eyes in disbelief and vicarious embarrassment. This can't be happening, can it?

As we parted, the man told me, glumly and cynically, "Sir, congratulations! I took off my shirt. I took off my pants. Congratulations!"

Later, employee John asks: "Nella, I need to buy a piece of land soon. Would you like to come along?"