black weekend
25/11/2007
I was not really in the mood for retail today, and thanks to the Black Friday sales going on, everyone was out and about and shopping their hearts out.
Good news for retailers. Not great for me.
There are only this many times in the day I can stand repeating myself. But retail is constant repetition. Sometimes to the same person. That really bugs the heck out of me, not to mention infuriates me when they still don’t get it. They usually don’t get it because they’re not really listening. That makes me want to smack them. Cos sometimes they walk away mid-sentence.
I’ve noticed so far that Asians tend to ask for discounts. I’m still wondering in my mind why that’s the case. Same thing happened again, except this time it was a Korean lady who tried her hand at bargaining. She first tried to ask for s discount from AL, and was politely turned down with our standard “our prices are already very reasonable”.
Here’s what I don’t get. People don’t go to Target and bargain, why do they think they can get away with it here? Why take it out on a small business? We label each item with prices, so they know what they’re getting into way before they say – I’ll take two of these, and a quarter pound of that. If it’s way over their budget, then they don’t even have to go there.
Why stoop to bargaining?
Anyway. The Korean lady decided to try the same line with me as I was ringing her up, and again asked for a discount. AL had already given her some tea samples, but she decides, she needs an even better deal.
That’s when my mind is racing for a polite way to say: this isn’t a negotiation, you don’t bargain when I have your credit card in my hand. I’m also making a silent apology to all the people I bargained with in my life – the flea market stalls in Phuket, the second level electronics stores in Sim Lim, and in the textile market in Korea.
I eventually settled on the fairness argument. The prices are fair, and to be fair, we charge everyone the same low price. If we had to give people who bargain discounts, we’d have to raise the prices across the board to make up for it. That wouldn’t be fair.
She wouldn’t relent! She said, give me more samples then.
I said, you’ve been given some of all the samples we have.
With that, she then goes on to say, actually, I know the prices of these teas. I think your prices are actually very good.
WTF!!!!
I don’t know if she was testing us, or just mucking with me. WTF! She then goes on to talk to PL about wholesale opportunities.
She didn’t get no Kamsahamida on her way out, that’s for sure.
putting my education to good use
22/11/2007
The only reason why I chose to take Chinese as a First Language in Secondary school was so I would end my suffering by age 16, not for the love of the language. My first Chinese teacher – Miss Lu – expertly and efficiently nipped any interest I had or would ever have for the language swiftly in the bud. There are few things worse than a frustrated person with no interest in educating seven-year-olds actually being paid (probably not a lot) to do just that.
Last weekend I put my four years of Higher Chinese education to good use. An Asian (maybe Taiwanese?) lady walked in and asked for fifteen gaiwans (盖碗). She said she wanted it for a wedding. We get her stock, and I knew it was going to start, so I let Mr K handle it. And sure enough, she started asking for a discount. I don’t blame her. She wanted fifteen.
Then, she side-said something (you know, when they’re really directing a rhetorical remark to you through saying something in passing to someone else，in this case, her daughter) that set me right off.
“前面那间好像比较便宜。”
Translation: It seemed to be cheaper at the store in front
Oh no she didn’t just say that to me. Out snarls my best Chinese ever.
“那你可以去前面那间。。。”
Translation: Then you can go to the store in front…
In dives Mr K for the save -
“你可以去看看，他们的品质是不一样的。”
Translation: You can go and take a look, their quality is not the same.
Nice save.
The lady laughed it off, but later on made a comment like the tea was cheaper in Taiwan. Oh, since she was obviously just asking for it, I retorted that airfares back to Taiwan were cheap too, so yeah.
She still walked out with 15 gaiwans.
So I guess my point is, I’m grateful for the other 8 Chinese teachers and tutors I’ve had, for the unenviable task of teaching me the rudiments of the adopted mother tongue of my people. Thank you for trying to undo the mis-programming.
In particular, I’d like to thank my private Chinese tutor，关丽花老师。Thank you for educating me enough to defend and express myself. For that, I am in your debt.
Happy Thanksgiving，from the Retail Grinch.
Fog City
18/11/2007
It’s getting foggy again. Woo.
In other news, I’m (also) stuck in San Francisco on Facebook. No changing regional networks willy-nilly, they say, only once every 60 days. Great. So much for exploring the regions.
name dropping
12/11/2007
<rant>
I know I’ve not the most healthy regard for marriage, so this probably won’t sit well. But I think women should find better things to do with their time than take on their husbands’ surnames.
This would save them a lot of hassle at the Social Security office, the Passport office, the DMV (among other administrative offices). And this way, I don’t have to look at those double-whammy-hyphenated-surnames and roll my eyes.
Asian surnames are the absolute worst for that. Asians traditionally don’t take their husbands’ surnames either, but I’ve to say, there are some pretty resolute little folk who can live through indignities like Annabel Wang-Chung* or Belinda Tan-Toh* or (gulp) Hwang-Lee Poh Yee*.
And just when you think you’ve got the order right – ie: maiden name first followed by husband’s surname, noooo…. someone will go and change the damn order just so it sounds better. Like, dude. Totally. Uncool.
If you’ve really gotta do it, just go ahead and run the whole nine yards, right? Change it from Christina Fong* to Christina McGregor*. Yeah, you might not look like a McGregor, but it says so much less than Christina Fong McGregor* and sometimes less is really more. It’s not a case where you can hope to have your cake and eat it too.
Names are sometimes pretty important – I’m convinced most Daniels are pretty hawt and Walters are not – but surnames are social indicators more than anything. The subtle name-dropping-social-climbing is unbecoming. We’re better than that! We’re educated (and well at that), cosmopolitan, upwardly mobile, financially independant women of the information age. Surely we’re better than that.
* Names have been made up to protect the innocent – namely me.
</rant>
on repeat
09/11/2007
Merry Christmas, I wrapped it up and sent it, with a note saying “I love you” – and baby I meant it.
Now I know what a fool I’ve been, but if you kiss me now, I know you’d fool me again.
fog city
07/11/2007
This weekend I got to sleep in an hour as we ditched daylight saving time for normal time. Singapore time is now 16 hours ahead of California time.
This weekend was pretty fine as well. It was sunny and warm, around 25°C. The sweet summery weather was set to continue all week through to Friday, when overcast conditions and fog was supposed to roll back in, but it came early and it’s been pretty frigid (10°C) for the last two days. And even though my weather plugin is telling me tomorrow’s going to be sunny and 21°C warm, I’m not believing it.
Coming from a country where the weather is always 28-32°C, sunny with slight chance of showers all year long, dealing with the cold and fog isn’t really second nature. I have to be told, like a kid, to bring a jacket or wear covered shoes. Because even though it might be sunny in the morning, it might be frigid come afternoon. Or to layer on the clothes so if it’s cold in the morning, I can always ditch a jacket or sweater and be ok when the afternoon turns sunny. Heck, it’s even different at home and at the store. Not to mention driving North from the airport back to the beach – you’ll know when you’ve past San Bruno and are back in South San Francisco when you see the fog. Like magic, it’s just there.
Anyway. This weekend I’ve to find some courduroy pants. And real socks. And thermals. And brace myself for my very first full winter.
fog city
07/11/2007
This weekend I got to sleep in an hour as we ditched daylight saving time for normal time. Singapore time is now 16 hours ahead of California time.
This weekend was pretty fine as well. It was sunny and warm, around 25°C. The sweet summery weather was set to continue all week through to Friday, when overcast conditions and fog was supposed to roll back in, but it came early and it’s been pretty frigid (10°C) for the last two days. And even though my weather plugin is telling me tomorrow’s going to be sunny and 21°C warm, I’m not believing it.
Coming from a country where the weather is always 28-32°C, sunny with slight chance of showers all year long, dealing with the cold and fog isn’t really second nature. I have to be told, like a kid, to bring a jacket or wear covered shoes. Because even though it might be sunny in the morning, it might be frigid come afternoon. Or to layer on the clothes so if it’s cold in the morning, I can always ditch a jacket or sweater and be ok when the afternoon turns sunny. Heck, it’s even different at home and at the store. Not to mention driving North from the airport back to the beach – you’ll know when you’ve past San Bruno and are back in South San Francisco when you see the fog. Like magic, it’s just there.
Anyway. This weekend I’ve to find some courduroy pants. And real socks. And thermals. And brace myself for my very first full winter.
blue and red or yellow and black
05/11/2007
It was just past nine this evening. We’d been a little restless all day, and after a lovely dinner at Park Chow, we headed over to Clement in search of a bar and a good fight.
We found the spot. It was called RockIt. They checked our IDs at the door. We went in, it smelled good (for a change – no cigarettes; instead – lots of air freshner), but we were still spoiling for a good whipping. Sadly, there was none. We left.
We drove on over past the Marina, over to Fillmore and Union, looking for Mauna Lua. This time, we sent our cousin-in-law to hop out to see if there was a fight to be had. He hobbled in, walked out three minutes later and gave us a thumbs up. Good. Now we’re talking. We parked and got out.
Another ciggie-free bar. I can’t tell you how lovely that is. It was hot inside, everyone seemed to be having a good time. We took our feud to the back of the bar. That was where we were going to deck it out.
I follow AL to the back. Ten feet away, I see it. A familar sight. Strangely comforting. Memories of whipping matches past come flooding back. I wonder if KF and I can still deliver it as well as we issue challenges. We have no choice. We’ve spoiled for the fight for a couple of weeks now, there’s no turning back. We spat the challenge out and there’s no turning back. We’d have to grit out teeth and get it over with.
We get change. We get ready, into our positions. No fooling around now, we mean business. I feel the handles. Ah, my old friends. I hold on to them with a firm handshake. It’s altogether comforting and familial. I miss this feeling. I think about the countless hours we spent before, starting out with that handshake. They were good times.
Everyone’s ready. I put three quarters in the slot, and the balls dispense. Nine. And we’re off. I let AL toss the smooth white ball into the hole, and we’re at it like a pack of hungry wolves.
Somehow Tornado tables don’t give as satisfying a goal as Dynamos.
We play a couple of games, but since AL is a novice, Cousin-in-law is getting increasingly incensed at not winning. A couple of vultures start walking up. A tall one in green puts three quarters on my side of the table. WTF. Oh, he wants to take on the winners. Alright. We can handle that.
It turns out, we couldn’t. At least we scored two goals. It wasn’t even a close fight. It was over before I knew it. These tables didn’t have nicely wrapped handles. They made my palm hurt. Tall Vulture in Green is an idiotic poser. He has a couple of moves, but he’s too distracted with showing them off. He misses a couple of snake shots. Poser.
We play him again, but this time his partner doesn’t want to play. He teams with me. He tries the snake shot from defence. Dumbass. Can’t even work when he’s on offense. At least he was a good sport. And funny.
Another loser walks by. He says “you suck” to Cousin-in-law. Annoys the heck out of me. Him and his fat-assed friends are in our way. F*cking fat asses just waiting to be stabbed with a foosball rod. I wouldn’t have felt bad maiming those fat asses. They put three quarters on the side of the table. I guess they want a whipping to go with that grande mocha-latte fat ass.
KF and I took a bit to warm up. They weren’t half as good as Tall Vulture in Green. They got confused with KF’s angled shots. Good job. Took us a close game, but we closed it. Drunk fat assed suckers. More quarters materialised during the match. We bow out politely.
My mom said my curfew is midnight, I gotta go before I get grounded.
I loved this game. It was my life. But I think I’m over it.
Foosball brings out the worst in people. Especially me. >:)
Love Amazon’s new look
02/11/2007
Loves it loves it loves it.
There’s still one great place to be on the internet.
