Until before the Lebanese War, “Souk Al-Tawila” was the most famous and beautiful market in old Beirut. The latest fashions from France and Italy are sold under arches from the Ottoman era and the days of the French Mandate. At the end of the street were two landmarks of Beirut: “An-Nahar” newspaper, which represented the bourgeois class in its day, and “Al-Ajami” restaurant, which served its men the most famous dishes.
The market was what is called in today’s language “trend”, or “trending”. Whoever is seen there is one of people of prestige, old or new in grace, even someone who works there and is superior to others, and the smart seller is similar to the shop owner or the wealthy customer. What was the advantage of the smart seller? To sell. The nicest thing I heard on this subject was the day I asked a young man who works in a clothing store, what exactly is his job? He answered with absolute seriousness: A customer comes to buy a white shirt, so I persuade him to buy a black jacket, three socks, and two ties.
The clever salesman had fame and rank and was called “teacher,” while the business owner was merely “Khawaja” or “Effendi.” The “teacher” is the one who distributes the ranks to the customers according to their purchasing capabilities: the “bek” is the highest. “Professor” is the most “neutral.” “Sayyid” and “Monsieur” for sectarian distinction. But none of these ranks reached the skill of pampering of the Egyptians: Bash Muhandis, Bashkatib, and His Excellency the Pasha.
The Lebanese transferred the “parameter” of stores to all types of transactions. Including – or especially – medical ones. But they practice this parameter abroad and not yet at home. Thank God for the interior, and God forbid for Souq Al-Tawila’s skill abroad… God forbid.
I went to a hospital “abroad” for a regular examination and was taken to the emergency room. I told the doctor that I did not need regular tests because I had them done a week ago. She said: Now enter the emergency room and then we will see. We entered the emergency room and three teams attacked us: the blood pressure team, the left arm blood test team, and the right arm team, and then the Indian film squad appeared!..
While I was in this midst, the doctor said: Your cash card, please. I said why now? She said literally, because you are a “cash patient,” meaning without insurance. The Indian band put me on a bed while the doctor was gone. An hour and I was lying around looking for someone to convince him to take the cash and release me. Then the doctor appeared again. The smart “teacher” from Souq Al-Tawila. I felt a relief that only lasted a few seconds. She said in a commanding tone: We must move you to the second floor. I said, asking for help, what is on the second floor? “The rest of the tests,” she said. We went to the second floor and the high blood pressure came out with us, and he brought me the cash bill. When I saw the number, my blood pressure, the stock market, and the price of gold fell. The doctor said: Your appointment is with the doctor tomorrow. I said: Which doctor? She said, who will explain the test results to you. I said, what about your explanation? She said: Two opinions are always better than one. And two doctors, two bills, and cash.
