Exhale

I have a new assignment thanks to Melissa! I am to become an 'undercover' shopper, covertly rating the service standards of various shopping outlets in Singapore! Isn't that great? It combines two of my favourite activities - shopping and making critical assessments of people. Which is essentially what I do in this blog, no?

Preliminary assessment of Service Standards in S'pore

I don't think I'm a difficult customer. I don't throw a fit if the Subway 'sandwich artists' (as they are called) accidently put onions in my Terriyaki Chicken, as some harried Shenton Way executives do (and I've witnessed this with great mortification!) I don't constantly insist on 50% discounts even when I do shop at the bargain-heaven that is Bugis. I can never ace the whole blackmail/guilt-trip thing which my mum excels in - emitting a loud, prolonged sigh of displeasure whilst strongly hinting at the possibility of never patronizing that particular outlet again unless they bring out the Roast Cajun Chicken in 5 minutes. And contrary to what many people think, I did find Singa the Courtesy lion quite cute when I was little, and I made a conscious effort to imbibe his maxims on saying 'Thank you' to people who serve me, and smiling etc. So I think I'm fairly pleasant to deal with from a salesperson POV. I must be. That's why I keep getting ripped off.

Hence, bad service for me is all the more galling. And poor service isn't just simply confined to salespeople who slouch around giving you sullen looks. There's a whole range of them. There's -

The Ultra-aggressive and Relentless
These are the absolute worst types and I seem to encounter them everywhere! And for some reason they're always Mandarin-speaking females. I don't know why. Maybe it's a Chinese female thing to be that indefatigable when selling stuff.

Anyway, these salespeople always seem like they have to fulfill some psychotic quota, hence the insane retail evangelization. To illustrate -

Me: Hi I'd like to try this on.

Salesgirl: Oh such a lovely top. Here - *ushers me into the fitting room* Oh while you're in there, try these! *dumps three other tops over the fitting room door* I highly recommend these tops for you too!

Me: Urh. Ok. *a while later* I don't think I'll take any of these, sorry.

Salesgirl: Eyes widen and she breathes an apocalyptic revelation - But these are our Last Pieces Left!

Me: Oh ok but I still don't really want them. This one is quite nice but I don't think the price justifies it.

Salesgirl: *insistent* But you like it and it's the LAST PIECE LEFT. *drawing a helpful inference for me* That means you'll never see it again! So do you want it in red or beige?

Me: *trying not to make a deaf comment* ...No I don't want it.

Salesgirl: Oh but why not? What kind of top are you looking for? Is this too dressy for you? Oh wait wait...*trawls the racks* Here! Try this! It's a really good top for casual wear! Or this! It's so suitable for young people like you.

Me: Erh no thanks..I'll just look around myself.

Salesgirl: Ok I'll leave it here so you can try it on! And when you're done I'll recommend some other dresses!

If I wanted a recommendation, I'd tell you. Please don't start throwing random tops which I have no interest in over at me while I'm half dressed in the changing room. And no the annoyed frown on my face is not an invitation to continue with your hard-sell tactics, nor is it a sign of weak indecision over whether or not to purchase. So don't bother exploiting it.

Guilty as charged: Blum and especially SERIES. I thought it was an isolated incident the first time, but every SERIES outlet I've been to since, from Citylink to Far East, has salesgirls who (i) load you with 'recommendations' (ii) rely heavily on that cheap, pathetic last piece left tactic, which I believed for a while till I came back 3 weeks later and saw the supposed 'one and only' top still hanging contently off the rack. Went with Gwen to buy skirts earlier this year and experienced the same appalling, overly-pushy, coercive attitude. Harsh but it's true. Only this time they saw the skeptical look on my face when they conveniently dropped the 'oh but it's the only one left' line and actually went as far as to challenge me saying 'if you don't believe us you can check our stocks lor'. Next time I think I'll take them up on that. And then I'll throw a hissy bitch fit and write a letter to the manager or something. Quota or no quota, it's absolutely shameful sales behavior. Five thumbs down!

The 'Do I Give a *'?

Well I won't use any dialogue to illustrate this time because technically, these people don't really say anything. I'll use a pictoral representation instead because, you know, a picture says a thousand words right? As such -

And if I wanted to be picky, I'd say that even this doesn't fully capture the essence of the 'Do-I-give-a-*?' individual. It's really all in the eyes. In this picture one can assume she's fixing her attention (rather sullenly though) on a customer in front of her, which is highly inaccurate given the current context. The 'Yes-I-don't-give-a-*'s tend to have gazes which are more unfocused, hollow and glazed over. Their jaws are slacker. There is no customer in front of them...No wait, I should tweek the syntax - They are not in front of any customer. Their stares are vapid, vacuous and are defiantly fixed some 500 meters away from your left shoulder, staring over at Colonel Saunders next door or something. Otherwise they are perpetually hidden behind the cash register, heads buried over the hor fun they've tah pau-ed from the food court, because bean sprouts are simply fascinating. Characterized by bland indifference and are generally not too helpful or informed.

They tend to be of a younger demographic and you can typically spot them in retail and F&B outlets, facing the east wall or fiddling with the set lunch menu at 7pm. They give off typical 'I'm-paid-$5.50-per-hour-to-play-musical-statues-in-the-shop' vibes. So I used to attribute this strange behavior to the part-timer salary which admittedly is pretty crappy, but then I realized there are older 'I-don't-give-a-*'s too. These give off 'OMG-why-am-I-babysitting-this-place-when-I-could-be-at-the-bar' vibes. They all come equipped with voice-recognition functions although this is rather faulty. But when they do register the sound of a customer, they will slowly turn away from the East wall to come and serve you, usually via primitive sign language. They are most efficient when it comes to conserving their voices and battery life. A pointed finger signals the nearest toilet. A jab coupled with mumbling indicates you have to serve yourself at the ice-cream bar. A simple cock of the eyebrow eloquently translates into 'Do you wanna buy that or not and do I have to come operate the cash register at the West wall now?'. Although admittedly once again, this new lingua franca (or lack thereof) has been in part perpetuated by customers, who have a similar aversion toward speech. On my part, tracing out a square with two index fingers means 'Please give me a menu', whilst miming writing indicates 'Bill please!'.

The Concerned

Half the time they look at you like you're on the verge of death. I don't really think their concern stems from any altruism though.

Guilty as charged: People plugging beauty, health or cosmetic products.

A memorable incident when I went to FIL Spa Intelligence at Dhoby Gaut to collect a $50 voucher I'd won during a Thai Express lucky draw. (the Holland V Thai express has pleasant service)

Props to them for a nice entrance lobby and the complimentary green tea. After that it all went downhill. This beautician ushered me into a cloistered sideroom and shut the door with a resounding thud. After which, she whipped out a facial check list with a schematic drawing of a human face, and peered at my own imperfect visage with great concern.

Beautician: *pronouncing a sentence* OH DEAR, you've never been for a facial have you?

Me: No I haven't.

Beautician: *ominously* I can tell. tsk tsk. Let's see now...runs finger down the facial checklist which includes defects/problems like 'oily T-zone', 'redness', 'acne marks', 'open pores' etc. Check, check, check, check, check...*looks up at me*...yes you have sensitive skin too, check... check check check check check check check check check. gives one last affirmative tick. OH DEAR, I am concerned about your skin, girl. You mean you've never been for a facial??

Me: No I'm a student. I have no money.

Beautician: Mmm...yes but facials are vurrry important you know?

Me: Well yea I suppose but I can't really afford regular treatments.

Beautician: *not listening* Some RGS teachers come here often for their facials because it's near the school. Didn't you say you were working as a relief teacher too? You should come for our treatment! Here. *hands me a brochure* Do you know why? Look, this is your face *pulls over the schematic diagram and whips out a chunky black marker*...over here *draws a huge circle over the forehead* you have some blemishes and open pores *rapidly dots the forehead area*, and over here *violently scribbles on the T-zone* you have some shine...and then there's this part *scrawls frantically over the cheeks* which can be improved and hydrated...and I haven't even started on the condition of your skin below the jaw *random squiggles mushroom*...

Me: *looks on in horror at her artistry*

Beautician: ...so you see girl, this is your face. *holds up the disfigured/vandalized schematic* Not good right? That's why I say...

Not good indeed! The diagrammatic representation of my face has imploded under her accursed black marker!

Beautician: *continues* I guarantee you a 70% increase in skin clarity if you come for facials...it's so wasted if you don't come for treatment because your natural skin texture is good you know...*concerned look* and you don't sleep well do you? I think I see dark rings...let me take a closer look ...*draws in*

Ahhh!!!!

What is it with these bizzare salespeople? And why are they all Chinese-speaking females? I hardly believe that yellow-skined people who speaketh the mother tongue are utterly inept at providing good service. Japanese staff are quite fantastic. You can sample an entire grocery store without buying anything and they'd still bow and smile and go 'arigato!'. One nihon-jin chef even flashed me a victory sign while I slurped instant noodles off the sampling counter. Now when has that ever happened here? The girl at Subway shoots me daggers whenever I ask for more sweet onion sauce!

So until then, I'll refrain from giving out those pink GEMS cards thank you.

posted by Jeanne @ 2:46 PM

Confessions of a Relief Teacher Part III

For the oft-absent student
He is an uncommon animal:
Hardly spotted, but when seen,
the moment is fleeting and brief.

For the permanently stoned, glaze-eyed one
Wilted rose languishing in the corner -
Turn not your back on the sun!
Your errant head in symbiosis with
the snug surface of your desk -
for from thence your life-blood flows.

The 'I-wanna-be-a-Bimbo!' individual
Empty vessels maketh the moste noiseth.
But whenth the vessel isth nowte empty
byut still insistes it maketh some noiseth
then it is moste curious and strangeth.
...And when the giggling vessel claimth it needth HELP
for it knoweth not ANYTHING AT ALL
for it is HOPELESS...
then it is moste irkesome and galling.

But apart from some bizzare individuals, teaching in ACJC was quite fun and rewarding.

Oh yes, I got my hostel room!!!! Time to buy a mini fridge!

posted by Jeanne @ 12:51 PM

I was never really a fan of Superman. Nope. Not ever. And it goes beyond the garish tights.

And no it's not a typical girl aversion toward comic book characters! I never really read the comics themselves but I watched the shows...which is almost the same thing. Haha. Ok apologies to purists who may be gasping in horror now. But in any case, Xmen was firmly established in my canon of favourite childhood tv shows. And I caught it every week on a near religious basis. I also adored the Batman series and the dark cityscape of Gotham; my first email address paid homage to my favourite Batman villain! And my brother and I remain to this day, curious about the fate of Peter Parker after the final episode of what appeared to be the last season of Spiderman was screened on Premier 12 (or whatever that channel used to be called)...you know, when Mary Jane was killed but Peter Parker realized that she wasn't the real Mary Jane and she was instead a clone, so he ran off with some fortune teller woman into a parallel universe to look for the real MJ. So see? I like comic book stories even if I'm too lazy and cheap to read them. (Hehe)

But I never got Superman. Just as I never got Captain America. I could never reconcile myself to:

1. The fact that Superman has possibly one of the WORST and functionally POINTLESS disguises amongst all the superheroes. He just whips out contact lenses and styling gel. I mean, c'mon. For someone hailing from a futuristic planet I'm quite sure he can do better than that. And I always wondered why Lois Lane was dumb/blind enough to never recognize him.

2. The fact that Superman is pretty boring compared to the more angsty anti-Heroes like Batman or Wolverine. I mean, I have never personally liked Wolverine either, but I can concede how claws, amnesia, freaky Nazi operation and primal rage make for a more nuanced, intriguing character than some bland farm boy/alien who can fly.

3. Superman has almost every power in the book it's unfair. He's so powerful, he's omnipotent. And that's also kinda boring after a while. Plus he never had a cartoon series. Or if he did I wasn't aware/didn't care.

So I was a bit reluctant to go watch the movie when it came out but I thought I'd just go to see what the hype was all about.

...

Hah no this isn't going to be one of those gushing 'Oh it totally changed my mind about _____(insert), it really brought a new perspective to everything!' movie review.

I still don't like Superman. Still don't see what the big deal is about some guy who has abs of steel. Still don't understand why Lois Lane continuously gets on my nerves by her stubborn non-recognition of Clarke Kent through that FUNCTIONALLY POINTLESS disguise. Still think Superman is terribly boring and too good for his own...well, good. But I'll have to say the movie deserves praise for how it wisely played up the ...shall we say...epic side of Superman (because honestly. What else could they do?) and truly made it a movie of breath-taking proportions. Some spectacular, poignant, even beautiful images, like when Superman wistfully watches Lois Lane gracefully ascend up the elevator.

Pity the later half of the movie became a little anti-climatic.

But I was just struck and mildly surprised by how insistent the movie's portrayal of Superman in almost Christ-like fashion was. Maybe it's just me imposing my own assumptions on the movie but the allusions seemed pretty glaring; All the references to Prometheus and God by Lex Luther...and more indirectly, to Atlas (various scenes of Superman lifting up ...erh...spherical structures...quite literally, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders). And of course the inherently virtuous, self-sacrificial acts he performs...ridding the Atlantic Ocean of a threatening crystal outgrowth, nearly killing himself in the process (and not to mention, a rather miraculous 'resurrection' in the hospital!). All the Father-Son voice overs by Joel ('Through the Father comes the Son blah blah and I send you my Only Son to Earth") - all suspiciously John-ian in nature. Superman rising up above Earth, patiently listening to the cries of the down-trodden and persecuted. His deep intonations to Lois Lane, assuring her that he's 'always around', along with the now-familiar 'Everyday I hear the world calling for a Saviour' line. And the ultimate? Lex Luther and his thugs beating up a powerless Superman (now where have we seen that before?) whilst Lex's girlfriend weeps. It's so starkly obvious that by the time Lex Luther raises a Kryptonite sphere and stabs it into Superman's side, you're all like "OK! We get it already!". Yes yes, Superman is the epitome of Virtue and Goodness and Perfection. Whew! Subtlety anyone?

But in any case it was a pretty good show as far as action movies go. I just don't like Superman.

Anyway, I caught 'Thank you for Smoking' today. As the Media Authorities have kindly pointed out, its a 'social satire' not a message for impressionable young minds to go ahead and light up. Its about spin doctors and how people basically can get through any situation with lots of hot air and BS. A strange topic but deftly executed with a very very witty script. When watching, I was strongly reminded of what Melanie told me once 'Exams are always about fooling the examiner to think that you know more than what you really know'.

How true. Sometimes a little expediency goes a long way.

posted by Jeanne @ 9:33 PM

To Spa or Not to Spa?

I have yet another pair of shoes to add to my collection, which is growing at an approximate rate of 2 pairs per month. I find justification in the old adage ‘One can never have too many shoes’ (and bags) which was probably coined by some other Shoe slut, though the words in parenthesis are my own modification. Nevertheless, I will have you know that I am not driven by impulse when shopping. Rather I am guided by logical principles (unless misled by the strategic placement of discount signs, ahemHUERAFFLESCITYahem). But yes, sound, logical principles I assure you! For example, this latest pair of shoes had cream poof-balls. Who can resist adorable poof-balls? Ergo, cream poof-balled shoes are to be purchased.

Anyway, I divulged my spa ambitions (see previous post) to my best friends who unfortunately had their own brand of sound logic to impart.

Gwen: No. Whatever you do don’t book the spa package! It’s expensive! And since when do guys go for spas anyway. That’s so sissy. Why would your boyfriend want to do something so sissy-fied? Spas are such a girly idea! You should bring him for a romantic, candle-light picnic under the stars at the Botanical Gardens.

Pea: *exhibiting typical Pea-kian logic* Hey Jeanne! You should go to Chek Jawa! You can still have your Spa treatment there!

Me: *momentarily speechless* Chek Jawa? Pea, all I know about it is that it’s some island and my geography teacher who went there to do research mentioned it has nice granitic landforms on the coast. I’m not sure, but that doesn’t sound like the sort of place with proper Spa amenities –

Pea: *earnestly* No no no! It has very nice hot springs! How’s that for an alternative (cheap) spa! Although I think a lot of people have been there already so the springs may be polluted…Haha, isn’t that funny? Oh but I bet Chek Jawa also has mud pools. Don’t they have mud treatments in Spas? But this’ll be free! Doesn’t that sound fun? Hey go to Chek Jawa!

So I tried to solicit a more, you know, macho point of view. What would a guy want for his 21st birthday?

Jinx: Urrrhhh. Clothes?

Aaron: *non-committal* A spa? Oh I see…. Huh? A Spa? Where? …Oh I see.

Jinx: He doesn’t care for clothes?...Oh alright how about a Playstation? …He has one already? Ok then an Xbox? No? Ok then how about a Playstation console?

Ian: Does he play DOTA? You could get him a computer game. What are his specs like? …You don’t know what I’m talking about do you?

Aaron: Hey wait…a Spa? …Isn’t there an age limit? ...Oh I see.

SW: ...Well.... Every guy needs a good pair of CK Undies.

Joel: Oh. How about vouchers? Like. Um. Spa Vouchers.

Ian: A DVD.

Aaron: A spa. Hm. That’s nice.

Thomas: Hey! I think going to Sentosa is a good idea!

Jinx: Oh I know, how about a car?

Joel: Driving!!! I wanna drive!!!!

Ian: Get him a car. Or give him car keys. Then he’ll think you got him a car.

Guangzhao: I’d like a car! Can I have a car? But I’d like a car!

Alright so an ideal guy gift from a guy point of view means at least $500 000. Do I even exist in the same orbit as a hundred thousand dollars? I don’t think so. It seems light years away.

But at least I had one faithful supporter in Sarah!

Sarah: Jeanne just splurge! A spa sounds so relaxing and nicceeee….*dreamy*

Yes doesn’t it? So after days of hemming and hawing, I emailed the Spa just to enquire if they had a vacancy on this particular day. I was only enquiring! I could still easily revert back to, say, the Chek Jawa hot springs option. Just exercising my rights as a potential consumer to weigh up the pros and cons of a Mediterranean massage. See how rationally I proceed? And then the next day the Spa replied saying Yes there was indeed a vacancy and would I like to confirm an appointment at 2pm? And I hemmed and I hawed thinking about things like, opportunity costs and my tight budget and the possibility of eating plain bread for the rest of the week etc and then I scrolled down the page and I realized Mr Jim Tan, that clever Spa executive, had attached a very attractive coloured photo of the couples suite and outdoor Jacuzzi for my salivating pleasure!

I remember Isabel recounting one of her shoe shopping exploits long ago: “I was so unsure whether or not to buy the shoes…until the salesperson said those Magic Words - “Last pair left”…AND THAT. WAS. IT.”

Indeed. Those artfully placed photos and THAT WAS IT. Yes Mr Jim Tan 2pm sounds perfect. Might I just know the accepted mode of payment?

So I guess you’ll probably see me subsisting on $2 chicken rice for the whole of next week as I attempt to recoup my losses.

Such is the outcome of my grand logic.

posted by Jeanne @ 10:42 PM