With petrol prices fluctuating every month, I am never sure whether to “fill er up” or to take the Metro.
Just when the happy news was published that petrol prices will be down this September, my car ran out of fuel with two days still to go for the new month — and while the prices were still high.
“Dh100, special,” I told the petrol station attendant whose T-shirt was soaked in the horribly humid night. “We will have to tip him at least two dirhams,” I told my passengers as we all searched for coins.
“Can’t you give him a fiver?” asked my wife, fetching out a banknote that features the 200-year-old mosque in Khor Fakkan on the reverse side.
“Put it away quickly”, I told my wife as I searched in the empty ashtray for coins. “Check out how much we are losing out because of inflation,” I said, as the meter read 46.72 litres. “For Dh90, I would earlier get a full tank.”
“But he is still sweating in the same heat,” said my wife, pushing the note in my hand.
“Dad, can I pick up juice and Pringles,” asked my son from the back seat. “I am feeling hungry.”
“Don’t get fresh juice like you do,” I told him. “It’s expensive. Just get a soft drink. You people should carry biscuits in a sandwich bag and water like I do,” I said.
“While you were away, I went to the developer to sign a new lease and guess what?” I told my wife. “They have raised the rent another five per cent this year.”
“Did you see the note I left on the cork board. Your son’s school has also raised the fees this term. Why are we sitting in this heat?”
“It’s against the law to keep the engine running while filling up,” I told my wife. “And most important, you waste fuel to keep the engine idling and the air-conditioning running.”
“Why have the gas prices gone up? My teacher said oil prices are dropping,” said my son sipping fresh watermelon juice that cost Dh9 a pop.
“I really don’t know,” I said, being a honest father for a change and trying not to show off my limited knowledge. “Google it.”
“You guys never gave me 3G,” said my son. “Mom, can I borrow your phone?”
“They say the stock market crash will make things worse,” I said. “I read someone was advising to get money out of all investments and keep cash in hand, preferably American dollars.”
“That’s rumour mongering and spreading panic,” said my wife. “Luckily, we don’t have any investment.”
Meanwhile, the petrol station attendant knocked on the window. “Yes?” I said.
“Should I add this engine oil lubricant? It’s good for your car,” he said.
“No, thanks. I just need gas.”
“Try this perfume. We are giving it at a good price.”
“No, thanks, we don’t buy perfume at a petrol station,” I said under my breath.
“Why don’t you buy something from him,” said my wife. “I think they are asked to sell things now.”
“Maybe I should get a part-time job,” I said. “Everyone is just paying Dh1 per word for my writing and I have to write tonnes of stuff just to make a few bucks.”
“But what can you do? You don’t know anything else”, said my wife.
“Maybe you should take up extra coaching classes after school,” I said.
“Why is it that I have to do everything,” said my wife.
“With tough times ahead everyone should know some financial planning,” I said. “There’s an online school that’s offering a short course on how to manage money. It costs Dh3,000,” I told my wife.
She looked at me in amazement. “Leave the managing money to me,” she said.
Mahmood Saberi is a freelance journalist based in Dubai. You can follow him on Twitter at www. twitter.com/mahmood_saberi
