Fisherman

Seafood is wonderful, fish, crab, lobster, shrimp, and others. The fresher it is, the better. I am always in search of fresh seafood, especially since I live in a country with a long coast two blocks from my home.

Meet fishman. He advertised seafood delivery. Also, he had a case of "miscommunication" with a friend. The friend ordered fish and shrimp, fishman said $20, fishman delivered fish and shrimp, and then friend found out that the size and type of fish brought was worth $1.20 in the market. Neither the friend nor the fishman spoke in person about the size and type of fish. Politely, I call it a "miscommunication" because the fish and shrimp were delivered for the price and I have lost my fishwoman.

My fishwoman was a maid in the apartments. She was not my maid, but her sister (which here could mean they share a parent, were raised together, or just know each other). I would give her $20 dollars and she would bring me two medium fish, cleaned, with the head and tail removed, and leave them in my refrigerator before I got home to cook dinner.

She was unique in her service. My maid refused the offer when I talked to her about it. It surprised me, turning down money is a rarity. I have to respect when someone refuses extra money for a small service and offers up another in her place.

My reliable and convenient system left me spoiled for delivery and hungry for more seafood.

Back to fishman...

I started to think about shrimp. Luckily, my neighbor delivered fishman's phone number during a moment when I was starting to crave it.

Craving + phone number = order for shrimp

Fishman has music as his ringer. This mean that when I call him, I get to hear almost garbled West African rap before I hear him shouting into the phone in a crowded market. It took effort to figure out when he picked up and the song stopped.

Ordering four dozen shrimp, he was eager to bring them tomorrow. I asked if he could. He insisted he could. I questioned the feasibility, and he assured me. The only lingering question after the conversation concerned cleaning and deveining. I sent a text about it the next morning and heard nothing back.

Go to Monday at 4 pm, I have talked about my cooking options all through lunch. Boil with potatoes, learn how to pickle, cook with yummy cheese grits, stir fry... the options kept increasing and all inspired me into hunger. The image of the shrimp meat, cooked, and on my fork sat in my head.

Then came the call. He could not find shrimp. Correction, he could not find shrimp in the market for the price we agreed. I was standing in the aisle of the grocery store, thinking of what to buy, and suddenly my dinner plans are gone. Poof!

I did not cry but I did go out to eat that night and order shrimp.

Next day, I get another call at 4 pm. Fishman has my shrimp. Where do I live?

Now, our phone conversation had ended poorly the day before. I was upset, he wanted to try tomorrow, I said my plans are ruined for tonight, he said price to much, I..., he..., I..., he..., and I said "I'm done, goodbye." Not a good ending, not a terrible one, but I hung up with no intentions of called back.

But he called me. Like after a dry spell in dating, I still picked up against my better judgement. I knew that he would offer shrimp. I knew that I was just desperate enough for fresh seafood to take whatever he offered. I knew that unless I wanted to find transportation to the fish markets in the afternoon, haggle for a good price, and then clean my own shrimp, I needed to take it.

In the end, I rearranged my dinner plans, frantically organized timing, made a few phone calls to see options for delivery, and asked a favor of a friend to accommodate his delivery. Cleaned shrimp were delivered to my home that day. The only inconvenience I did not have was the price.

I enjoyed the fresh seafood that night. It was worth it.