I am beginning to like this place more even though it shuns me with such rain and coldness. During my years of reading Sociology, I've read studies of immigrants who feel that they will always be second class citizens in their adopted countries. Despite the lecturer's attempt to Dynamo-wash my brains to believe in the concept of ethnicity being one created solely by humans and not predetermined by the colour of one's skin, I've slided backwards. The hair that grows from my head and the colour of my eyes will always be black. When I stand out as I do in the tram, not many bonafide Germans would concede that I'm Deutsch, even if I've stayed here for 55 years. They may justify my right to vote but my parents were born to enjoy rice more than bread. So what of colour can we ignore? I may speak perfect Deutsch but a German's first impression of me in a shopping centre would be that I'm a tourist. But you know what? When the philosophical side of me is dormant, I really enjoy this place. After all, I've voted in Singapore, only rightfully.
Germany is the perfect place for a fickle-minded and careless person like me. Two months' worth of experience tells me now that it is okay not to ponder over a decision in a shop for 10 hours. Bring whatever pleases you at the moment home and bring it back the next day or even next week if you don't like it! If you were not in a hurry but made a bloody mistake anyway, don' fret because the wrong can be corrected without cost.
My first experience with such luxury occurred two weeks ago. I was inspired to purchase the second course book for my language class way before it was needed. After a couple of days, I realised that perhaps my back and bag wouldn't be broken if I'd bought two separate thinner books instead of one thick one. So I bugged the Mister to accompany me to the bookstore. There and then, the books were exchanged without reason. But as it seems, this book buying episode was cursed. When I checked the book the weekend before use, I discovered a number of torn pages. The Mister rolled his eyes and gave me his usual 'C'est la vie" reply. I tried my luck anyway. And yes, I got it swapped!
Another time I had bought a book for toilet pleasure - 1000 places to see before you die. The sample copy was in English and naturally, I grabbed a wrapped copy and paid. Only when I was undoing the plastic wrap did I see the words, "Deutsch Aufgabe". The Mister was not impressed this time. Once again, I got it changed without a problem. The best part was that I was supposed to pay more. Only the German version was for 10 Euros. The English one cost 14.90. But of course, I didn't.
A fussy married person would understand my concerns about buying homeware. You like it so much, but you wonder what your other half thinks. You would love to be covered in white bedlinen but perhaps the bed partner prefers deep sexy red. After walking round the entire bedlinen section for two hours, I finally made my choice. White seersucker. Though it's white and the Mister hates sterile colours, I took a chance with the texture. I thought to myself then, finally! Fine looking white quilt cover! What I always wanted all my life (the phrase is by now a favourite dig at me by the Mister)! The ending was sadly so predictable. It was too plain. I had to admit that it was truly the Mister's hospital white feel.
The next logical step was to think of a perfect excuse to exchange it for something else! Sorry mamo but I've mastered this in German before I stepped out of the apartment this morning - "I've bought this bedlinen for my mother-in-law. Too bad she didn't like it. Can I please exchange it?" Even so, I thought about the impending frown on the Mister's forehead.
At the cashier, I finally said only that I'd bought it yesterday and can I please exchange it. The auntie took a look at the pack, didn't ask more, scanned my receipt barcode, reissued me another refund receipt and voila, I'd 45 Euros back in cash. It wasn't just an exchange. It was a cash refund! And it wasn't even broken! I believe such consumer rights should exist everywhere in the world for sincere buyers. After half hour, I was anyway back at her counter to return her the 45 Euros for another set.
I understand today as I stood smiling at a different pastel yellow bedlinen, what it means to trust any queasiness you experience while withdrawing money from your purse at the cashier.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment