Online shopping and other tests of faith

If you want to test yourself on how gullible you are, the best way is to evaluate the number of times you have been duped by some online shopping scam. Depending on the frequency of the phenomenon, it will set you apart from all those annoying know-it-all online shopping connoisseurs who have managed to clothe and feed the entire extended family and even furnished their duplexes—all through this expertise of knowing which online site will deliver and which ones will take you for their “special” rollercoaster ride. Yes, you may find, quite embarrassingly, that you are not one of them. You belong to the minority that believes, quite literally, everything they see and read in the online ads.

Let us elaborate. If you are, say, a chocoholic who has spent their entire childhood and adulthood tortured by endless root canals until there are no more roots to be canalled, thanks to your addiction, an ad that promises “Pure 100 percent cocoa dark chocolate,” imported from somewhere (it looks foreign enough, so must be good), there is bound to be a spark. It is akin to going all jelly-kneed when one suddenly encounters an unusually attractive member of the opposite sex while walking in the street.

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You know you just have to have it and promptly order two whole boxes full of individually wrapped squares of sweet bitterness that only a few dare to explore. You are deciding how much of the treat will be shared with fellow sinners, and how much will be self-consumed when that much-awaited “parcel” is delivered. Everything looks good; the wrappers actually do look like those After Eights (a brand of mint chocolate thins) and the box is tastefully designed, though all the text is in Chinese characters. But instead of ecstasy, you are greeted with a rude shock: it feels like a brick chip and tastes like leather. How one knows the taste of leather is not the point here. The point is that it is nothing like the promised luxurious cocoa indulgence.

Despite this experience leaving, literally, “a bad taste in the mouth,” you may still be a believer and order that unbelievably sumptuous-looking chocolate bread with that molten, creamy chocolate oozing out of the dough with abandon. It turns out to be yet another gimmick powered by an AI-generated ad. The bread is sour with a smidgen of low-quality chocolate, nothing at all like the seductive avatar that enticed you.

You would think one would be the “once bitten, twice shy” type after these mini fiascos. But no, of course not; one must not give up on humanity so easily, right? So again, you venture into other uncharted territory, only to be given more shots of harsh reality. A fashionable knitted blouse turns out to be a misshapen rag made out of cheap rayon. A fairy doll that can fly turns out to be a defective plastic contraption that conks out after a few hits on the floor. The double-shaded eye shadow is just petroleum jelly on your eyelids, and the Canadian gummies to completely clear the lungs—even of chain smokers—come in a packet that looks exactly like the one in the ad but does not have any brand name. Meanwhile, your entire household is having an online shopping spree, buying everything from pineapple preserve to bed linen for all and sundry. And they are getting exactly what they ordered. They are satisfied with their online product. The circle of amazing trust continues.

When you relate your own experiences, they make sympathetic, inaudible sounds, and give you simpering looks that clearly tell you that you just don’t have the skill set and hunter instincts that ensure blissful online experiences. They are the ones who can tell a gimmick from an authentic site. They know the real French Chantilly lace saree from its polyester lookalike. They know which site will give you real grass-fed gawa ghee and will order the out-of-this-world chocolate mousse from some cloud kitchen newbie.

While it takes experience, time and perseverance to reach such sophisticated levels of shopping expertise, one must start using that unused part of the brain that holds the common-sense matter, at least once in a while. A shampoo that can make hair follicles grow after the first three washes, a “powerful composite” that will make you “look like a foreigner” (there are no Brown or Black foreigners, only White), and a phone case that also has a cheese grater, should be treated with not a pinch but a pail of salt. Self restraint when coming across the bold and bizarre is also crucial. You should be ashamed to even think of getting the Baby Mop, which is a baby onesie that doubles as a mop while the baby crawls. As tempting as it may seem, don’t go for that automatic stirrer either, unless you are a professional halwa maker or a chef for Fakhruddin Biryani.

Okay, so some of us are Gullible Goofs. But it could be seen as our eternal optimism, even if slightly misplaced. It’s because we want to believe that beautiful, cool things exist, and that people are generally good and not out to con you. So let them laugh with derision at the array of magic pain relief gels that will cure osteoarthritis and allow you to Tango. Let them get into splits when you sit in your “hula chair” and almost get a hernia.

You just need more time and experience. You’ll get it right, eventually.

So go ahead and take the plunge. Click on that “confirm order” button. Get that jawline shaper and anti-ageing cream that will also remove wrinkles, warts and blemishes—and make you look like a translucent extraterrestrial. Just go for it.

Aasha Mehreen Amin is joint editor at The Daily Star.

Views expressed in this article are the author's own.

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