Today, I bought the big issue for the first time. Partly to read something on the bus. Partly to look at a different type of journalism. Was it worth my £2.50?
Yes. One hundred percent. Will I buy it every week from now on? Yes. One hundred percent. Why? Did I enjoy it? Yes. It’s a newspaper. It gave me the news. It did its job.But so could a broadsheet or red-top. What makes this different?
Was it the look on the woman’s face when she took my money and handed me the paper? It was-at first. She smiled. A quiet almost shy because she didn’t know me, but confident because after all she’s a seller and I’m a customer. She wants me back. It was also the smile of a woman who wasn’t often handed money. Now I am by no means rich, but handing out £2.50 to another for a newspaper, instead of buying a glossy as I normally would, doesn’t exactly put me out. But this look on her face. I couldn’t get over it. She was so incredibly happy. So, yes, at first her face did make me want to buy the paper again. But, then her face, and this is by no means personal, made me feel a tiny bit nauseous. How someone who ‘worked’ so close to me and so ‘lived’ so close to me, could gain such immense happiness from £2.50 sickened me.