Shopping

End May, 2006

As you may have gathered by now, shopping can be interesting in Madrid.

The experience is very different between the vast Corte Ingles - the only department store in Spain - and the 'tienda', the little shop around the corner. In the former, there are more shop assistants than you can shake a stick at. Great! You might think. But these so called 'assistants' are actually contestants for the National Talking Competition, cunningly disguised as shop assistants. They will be found usually all huddled together, talking .. and talking and talking and talking, four or five of them around the cash till all looking very focussed, as if discussing matters of great importance. But no, not philosophy, politics or religion. Not even how to make the damn till work. No, it will be recipes or what Señora Margarita saw Señora Magdelena's daughter, Isobela doing in the street last night as she was hanging out her washing. These things are actually very important here, as everyone acts as everyone else's therapist and the gossip has a kind of policing effect to maintain social order. But it does not help the shopping experience nor does it add to the retailer's bottom line.

When you finally do get an assistant to help you, expect the first word you hear to be "no", as every sentence in Spanish seems to start with "no", which can be a little confusing when the person speaking is actually saying "yes" or "maybe". And then expect the assistant and many of their colleagues to send you on a wild goose chase all over the store as you try to find what you want. "We don't have them here, but they are definitely in xyz department" is a common refrain, and xyz department, when you are on the seventh floor will always be on the other side of the store, in the basement. Or, if you have found what you want and need advice, then, as you are talking, expect to be regularly interrupted and even for the shop assistant to go off and talk to someone else in mid sentence with you. And the reason for that? Everyone seems to be someone else's assistant - so you when you need something, the shop assistant will go off to find their assistant to get what you need, who will of course be talking to someone, and so on and so on.

Selling seems to be a bit of an anathema in Corte Ingles, perhaps as it gets in the way of gossip. But should you end up deciding to buy, if you haven't decided to pop next door to buy your fish from the excellent neighbourhood fish monger as you wait your turn for assistance, or thrown the article you were interested in on the floor and stormed out as frustration gets the better of you (of course, I have never done that), then be prepared for another long wait as the cashier engages everyone in the queue in further talking competition practice, extracting or making up the latest piece of juicy gossip or sharing some deep dark personal secret, hoping to get the same in return for addition to the Gossip Larder for later use.

Shopping at Corte Ingles can be a little painful and I would not recommend it to anyone with the slightest propensity for impatience. However, if you can get past this, then the store is great - it is clean, sparkly and full of interesting and stylish things, mostly of top quality to tempt those valuable little Euros out of your pocket. And as a brand name goes, it is also pretty good.

Shopping in little family stores, the 'tiendas' on the other hand is a pleasure and fun ... if only you can find one open!

So, all that started me thinking about the differences in shopping experiences between some of the other cities I have visited. Are the little frustrations I have experienced here outweighed by the outstanding range of design flare, colour and value, that seems to be a defining feature of Spanish products, culture and people? So, from my memories of shopping around the world, on approaching a shop assistant to ask if their store stocks a particular item, you might get the following responses:

London, UK

The assistant, usually with multiple piercing, spots and ill fitting somewhat grubby uniforms would look at you with vacant eyes, head to one side, grunt and slouch off to a display counter with items that bear no resemblance to what you are looking for. If you are lucky, they will then start reading out the labels, thinking that you might be so impressed they can actually read, that you might forget what you asked for in the first place. We call these assistants “avocado heads” as when they brush their hair, they get a ‘plonk plonk’ sound as their brain plops from side to side as an avocado seed does when the fruit is past its best. Even if you do find what you want, it will be so damned expensive, you will turn around and walk out in a state of shock! I really do not like shopping in London.

New York, US

The assistant would say, whilst leaning against a wall and moving nothing more than his mouth “No”. You would say, “Oh. .…. Do you know where I might get such a thing?” They would say, “No”. You would leave, with both parties having wasted minimum energy engaging in unproductive platitudes. When shopping in New York, you either need to know exactly what you want and where to get it, in which case you will get a great price, or you have to be extremely rich to get any kind of customer service!

Vancouver, Canada

My experience has been two extremes. Either you would be totally ignored when you asked your question, or sold something that looks like what you want but blows up or falls apart the minute you get it home. Or, you would be engaged in a long long conversation about the weather (it rains ALOT in Vancouver and there are many different types of rain to discuss), the kids, the neighbours, the price of cabbages and the upcoming event in the local town hall and, of course the state of the local marijuana business, trade in one of British Columbia's biggest exports, BC Bud. After all of that, you would be given precise instructions as to where to find what you want, both in the shop and in several other shops around the corner. Shopping in Canada is a gentle experience, but I do understand a sentiment that I recently read somewhere, that there is something weird about polite people who obey the traffic laws!

Pune, India

Well now, when shopping in India, do not expect to do anything else the day you decide to go, even if you are only popping out for a few incense sticks or a loo roll. Asking for something is pointless as the shop keeper will always say "yes" they have it, even when of course they don't, with the sole purpose of luring you into the store to buy something you didn't know you wanted. But that is OK, as shopping in India is great fun. Bargaining is the name of the game here .. and you have to do it for hours and hours and hours! The longer you bargain, the greater the degree of respect you are bestowing on the shop owner. The general idea is to peruse the store and select a collection of items you wish to purchase. Place them together on the floor and, when you are ready, signal to the shop keeper that you want to start the buying process. He will come with a piece of paper, a calculator of some kind, and several stools for you all to sit on. When you have sat, right in the middle of the store but only about three inches off the floor (you can't sit any higher because of the stuff hanging from the ceiling and anyway, the shop keeper must be higher than you to secure a negotiating advantage), the shop keeper will pause just long enough for you to realise just how uncomfortable you are, and will smile as if to say "let the games begin!", and off you go.

You first ask the price. At the answer, you draw a sharp intake of breath, display an expression of utter amazement and reply, making it clear at how shocked you are that the shop keeper would dare to ask such an outrageous price for the complete load of junk spread out on the floor in front of you (even though you have fallen in love with what you have selected and will pay a month's salary to take it away). Having insulted the shop keeper, his family, the store and everything in it, you may go on make an utterly derisory counter offer. The shop keeper will, in response, feign contempt that you could insult him so, state that your words have stabbed him right in the heart and and that it is barely worth living another second - he might even shed a tear - but then will similarly insult you, making reference to your clear inability to recognise beauty, craftsmanship and value if they were to jump up and slap you in the face. If you choose to continue (you mustn't stand up quickly in anger for fear of braining yourself on the cast iron saucepans or brass Buddhas hanging from the ceiling just inches above you), he will scribble frantically on his bit of paper, frown a lot, scratch his head, show expressions of great anguish and might even beat his chest or slump as if utterly defeated. But he will make a counter offer lowering his price ... a bit. And off you go again for round 2, but with not quite so many insults, that are not quite so insulting but always with body language that shows obvious distaste at the very idea that you should lower yourself to buy such rubbish. The process ends when you settle on a price in the middle, stop insulting each other and agree that the things you want are actually really quite nice, shake hands on the deal and hug with great smiles and laughter as if you had been friends for life. Or you give up because your back is killing you from having sat on the bloody stool for such a long time!!

So far, I like Spain the best!

Hasta Luego!