**Allow me to preface this entry by saying that in Sri Lanka, as is the case elsewhere in the world, businesses vastly prefer cash to credit cards. In some instances, stores will go out of their way to discourage the use of credit cards. This can be a major source of frustration.

We wanted to buy a couple of mosquito nets, some pillows, and drinking glasses. Simple, some might say. Perhaps. But not always. As usual, Arpico, the Sri Lankan version of Wal-Mart, is our destination. It’s a Sunday, but, as are most stores, Arpico is open for business. The store is jam-packed floor to ceiling with every conceivable thing from rubber car mats to futon couches. With a little bit of help we’re able to find everything we need. We make our way to the register with about 50 USD worth of purchases – sizeable for Arpico, especially on a Sunday. As all the items are “furnishings” for our team quarters, the purchases are official. Such things are put onto the business credit card. And so out it comes once the total has been calculated. The cashier, a severe-looking middle-aged woman dressed in the ubiquitous Arpico uniform, looks at the card. Then looks at us. Then looks at the card. Then, again, looks back to us. In heavily-accented but good English, she blithely says “We don’t take credit cards.” Well, for one, we’ve all at one time or another used a personal credit card at this exact store before. Second, a large sign on the front window energetically states in flamboyant colors and oversized letters that “We accept all credit cards”.
We are quick to point out the discrepancy. “But, but, the sign outside…..” She cuts us off. “We don’t take credit cards.”
“But we’ve used a credit card here before, why can’t we use it?”
“It’s Sunday.”
“It’s Sunday.”
“It’s Sunday.”
“It’s Sunday?”
“Yes, it’s Sunday.”
“What do you mean it’s Sunday? How does that make a difference?”
“The machine doesn’t work on Sunday.”
“What do you mean the machine doesn’t work on Sunday? We just made a purchase down the street with a credit card. These machines do not work according to the day of the week. Is the machine broken?”
“No, the machine is not broken. The machine doesn’t work on Sunday.”
“No, really, I promise you that you just have to swipe the card through and it will work just fine, whether it’s Sunday or Wednesday. The day doesn’t matter.” At this point, we’re becoming rather ruffled by her deadpan, matter-of-fact demeanor. Our deep confusion does not help the matter. In desperation, “Please swipe the card.”
“The girl’s not here.”
“The girl’s not here?”
“The girl’s not here.”
“What girl?”
“The girl does not work on Sunday.”
“Okay, some girl is not here on Sunday. We understand that people don’t work every day. But how does this one girl not being here affect the credit card machine? You just have to swipe the card and punch in the amount.”
“The girl does not work on Sunday.”
“Okay, okay. The machine does not work because the girl does not work on Sunday.”
“Yes.”
“Does anyone else know how to use the machine?”
“Yes, I know how to use it.”
“Great! Would you please swipe our card?”
“No, the machine does not work on Sunday.” At this moment, a camera would have been handy. All three of us have the identical expression: eyes squinted, brow furrowed, mouth slightly agape – the look of a person completely at a loss for words. But, although we’ve lost the battle, we still believe the war is in contention. “We would like to see the manager.”
Now, it must be stated that two of us are completely broke, not a dime to our name. The third has just enough money. But, at this stage in the game, it is the principle of the matter. She hesitates, presumably thinking about the potential consequences of allowing these rather unkempt, funny-looking (dressed in board shorts and t-shirts), stubborn foreigners into the manager’s office. She points towards the back of the store. We ingenuously think we’re making headway.
We make our way to the back of the store, up the stairs, and into the manager’s office. The office is a cubicle made of plywood. The manager is seated at his desk, which is covered in a wild disarray of papers, folders, and several mugs. He stands as we arrive at his door and gestures us into the office. We make our plea. “Good morning, Sir. We would like to make some purchases with a credit card, but have been told that we cannot.”
“That’s right.”
“Why is that exactly?”
“The machine does not work on Sunday.”
“We know that one of the employees is not here today. But one of the others knows how to use the machine.”
“That’s our position.”
“What exactly is the position?”
“That’s our position.”
And that’s as far as we got in the conversation. The battle, the war, and our pride are all lost in a five-minute logic bludgeoning. Tail between our legs, we walk back the register, and pay with cash. As soon as the cash is on the table, the same female employee not-so-subtly sniggers and says something in Sinhala, eliciting a chuckle from her co-worker. Even though the interaction took place in a language none of us speaks, it was the first thing we’d understood throughout the whole exchange.