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.
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