Where the price sits

A family in Dokki is redoing their kitchen, and a fitter recommended by a neighbour comes to measure up.

He is pleasant, he is thorough, and when they ask the price at the end, he says a number so small that the mother laughs with relief. Then he explains that he meant thousands. The real figure is many times what she heard.

Nothing about the work has changed in those few seconds. The cupboards are the same cupboards. But the family now feels cheated, because the first number set the frame and the true one arrived as a betrayal of it. Whatever he says next, he is arguing uphill.

It is a strange thing to do on purpose, and plenty of sellers do it anyway. They lead with the smallest figure they can find: a deposit, a monthly instalment, the price without the fittings. They hope a low anchor will soften the blow. Instead it teaches the buyer to distrust everything that follows.

There was a better story available, and it was the true one. He could have said that some fitters in the area would do the job for far less and some would charge a great deal more, and then explained where he sits and why. Or he could have said plainly that he is not the cheapest, and told them what the difference buys: hinges that do not sag after a year, a man who answers his phone when something goes wrong.

Either way, the price becomes a place on a map, and the customer can decide whether that is where they want to stand.

A price is never only a number. It says what the thing is worth, where it ranks, and who it is for. The seller who understands that does not hide the figure. He gives it somewhere to live.