From the back seat of our car, my son Yair scrutinizes carefully as I fill up with fuel. I am standing right beside him, while I smile and send a worried look at the gas pump. The amount payable exceeds the eighty euro.
It's a beautiful day in early spring, and even Milan seems to revive in the sun.
Dressed in his blue overalls, the old gas station blends into the sky. He looks at us and after a little closer to offer their help. I make him see that a few years ago a full diesel cost less than fifty thousand dollars. He nods, his eyes smiling in his face wrinkled. His hands tremble and his eyes reddened betray a weariness that when I think back several centuries. The cash that I had prepared and are insufficient to pay by credit card are forced to enter the shop on the side. Delay, I'm not sure if you should leave alone Yair. The attendant sensed my fear and reassures me, will keep an eye on him, the child will not have to worry.
I watch him again and I am impressed with the wet eyes. Omnipresent in the service station, in the shade to their generations, and always seems on the verge tears. For this reason we called Willow.
I move away from the car and look at Willow happily discuss with Yair. I am ashamed a bit 'for the motion of distrust against the past, but I can not stop me from hoping that my son will not touch with hands calloused and dirty fuel. Through the window of the store keep your eyes on the scene while I offer a credit card to the clerk, who then is the son of forty Willow. Expect the POS confirm payment and look around for a little gift for my children. Failing to find anything, I turn to the son of Willow to help me.
He apologizes, do not take more than the kind of merchandise. They only have products for the car now. In fact, some would even gadgets, but they are all reserved to the owners of loyalty cards. He smiles and gives me credit card receipt. I go back to the car and put in motion while addressing a look at Yair asking me what I did in the shop. I reply that I paid for a full tank of petrol. Yair presses and asks me again what I did.
"I gave money to the lord in exchange for gasoline," I say.
"What are the money, Dad?".
ponder for a moment and outline a plausible answer: "Yair, we needed gasoline to go on a trip. The gentleman agreed to give us this in exchange for money. Then he will do the same with other people when he needs something. It will change the money with what they feel the need. And so on. "
Yair replied: "Yes dad, like when we buy toys."
I remain amazed at the sudden silence that emanates from the back seat. It is the first time that my son does not insist with more precise questions until the root causes of the phenomenon that interests him. It seems to answer your question.
But I remain prey to a worm that torments me. I can not find solace in circular and systemic explanation that I gave to Yair and I understand what it has stopped the spiral of questions that usually involves us.
I try to make order. Beyond all the classical theories on microeconomics and macroeconomics, as it provides today the price of the goods we buy?
It corresponds to the value? (Real or perceived?). As you accumulate wealth?
"Our society is violent. Violent and aggressive "I think to myself.
few years ago I was in Yerushalaim. It was Saturday night and was walking with my wife from the parts of Ben Yehuda, among the stalls of the souk. The night is always fresh Yerushalaim, which Summer is a great advantage. We stopped to observe a pipette resting on the edge of one of the stalls. He looked like a miniature hookah. The merchant came up and extolling the praises of the object asked us if we wanted to only 40 Shekel. Having no intention of buying anything, I replied that we were only watching. He told us that it would sell for 30 Shekel.
refused.
Apparently annoyed, the man offered to buy us a pipette for 15 Shekel and another to our refusal in a solemn tone asked us to make ourselves the price.
"What do you want to buy?".
I replied that I was not really interested, I took my wife hand and began to walk away. The merchant came to us injured.
"Take it, take it for free then!" He hissed in the ground as he threw the object.
Deeply disturbed continued to wander among the stalls, while the man picked to do his little quiet hookah and puts on display together with its merchandise.
Where then is the violence?
It lies in the insistence of the negotiation? Invasion of privacy, in the solicitation aggressive? In the object thrown to the ground?
For the moment all the answers seemed valid, if the episode when I think back now petrol, or at the counter of any supermarket, I am increasingly convinced of the contrary.
The bitter confrontation with the traveler had very little violent. The relationship was turbulent, but the competition for profitability and value was open to the surface. Somehow the rules of the game were not all taxes in advance. We acted both with many degrees of freedom in our report built instantly.
The supermarket is different. No one would dare to bargain with the poor cashier that alienated while watching us pass the infrared scanner products. Likewise with the old gas station does not I dare to go beyond the observation that the cost (not even the price, mind you, the cost!) of gasoline has risen.
What rose? Who holds the power to decide that the cost should go up? Who has such power to decide that the cost is marked on the product label placed on display in the dim light and artificial neon?
Undoubtedly the collective nature of the deal does violence to be found on the individual involved, alienated and silent in the face of a reality without real exchange relations.
Triads are the most solid groups of couples. This is because the relationship survives the momentary cracks between two of the three individuals, by virtue of the connection remains between the internal dyads. In the single pair, if a crack is formed, the instability is likely to derail the relationship. The aggressive response
-on, the fight is still a report request.
I try to bring the other on my positions. Perhaps incorrectly, but the attempt itself is proof of my intention to the link.
The shyness, silence and withdrawal from the dialogue are indicative of a de-investment in the report. They are much more violent and aggressive reaction of the absolute and often do not allow replies. If my gas station raises prices, if the local supermarket apparently becomes too expensive compared to discount stores around the corner, I'm going to buy elsewhere. There is no relationship other than that and always renewed on time of purchase.
In short distance that separates us from home, while driving and Yair sings with his beautiful voice in the background, I am reminded of a Jewish joke.
"Benjamin and Isaac have been friends since childhood. Brought together with crakow you are passionate about both the art and opened two galleries have become quite popular over time. Benjamin bought a Renoir of great value and admired for several weeks after it decides to sell. Do you think pain for the sale of an object so dear to him would be lower if it were to buy the friend Isaac. The negotiations lasted for a few days, but eventually Isaac agrees to buy the painting for a million dollars.
Not a week goes by that Benjamin regretted the deal, asks Isaac to buy back the painting. Isaac niche, took only a few days to make sure that you fall in love with the painting, hung on display in the living room of the house. The deal is pretty harsh and some buttons are touched by painful both friends, but eventually come to an agreement. Benjamin retired from the framework for two million dollars and he is happy. Isaac, on the other hand can not find peace. Longs the picture and decides to buy back from Benjamin. The deal looks like a real fight, but the two friends are finally on the exorbitant amount of three million dollars. This tour continues for several months, until one day goes by Benjamin Isaac for yet another counter-purchase of the famous painting.
"I give you ten million for our picture!" Carried away screaming.
Isaac looks at him a bit 'sad and replied: "See Benjamin, I would sell willingly, but the picture it is no longer mine. I bought it for nine and a half million a Russian art dealer. "
Benjamin looks at his friend incredulously and shouts angrily: "You fool, how could you! You and I were doing our best deals for months on the painting! Now everything is lost. "
Talk about loyalty and cooperation!
BY Imanuel Baharier 
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