Sale strategy that makes little sense

When looking for work-out-inspiration in China... one need to look elsewhere than the gyms.

When Saturday came I felt it was about time to make a change: enough with the slack days, brownies on Tuesdays and cocktails on Wednesdays –I needed to join a gym again. Although I am normally cliché enough to wait until Mondays with these things (“to start my new life” –pfffft!) this time I was original enough to head to the gym straight away.

-Hi, I said to the bored looking reception girl. Can I buy a 6 months membership please?

-Ehhhhh?

I repeated the same thing in Chinese.

-Ehhhhhh?

I waited.

-So you want to buy 1 year? She finally asked.

-No, 6 months.

-6 months is 1500 yuan, one year is 1800 yuan.

-Well then I buy 1 year.

I picked up my credit card and passport, and grabbed a pen, ready to fill in my details. But the girl didn’t move.

-Tomorrow! She suddenly said. Come back tomorrow!

-What? No, I want to buy it now.

-Not possible. Give me your phone number, we will call you and you can come back tomorrow!

-Can’t I just buy it now? One year -1800 yuan?

-If you bring 2 friends it is 1800 yuan/year. But we will call you tomorrow.


I reluctantly scribbled down my phone number and went home. No calories lost that day, no.

Sunday came, and I waited patiently for my phone call.

Around 5pm I received a text message:

“Hello, this is XXXX! Will you come and walk out today? If so, call me first. You can buy a membership. Pay cash.”


THIS is what I had to wait for 1 (+) day?!!!

I get the idea with a bored reception girl not wanting to sell me a membership, the sale’s guy was probably not there, and fair enough, he probably works on commission and needs to take care of all sales. But a b***y text message, asking me when I’m coming to “walk out.” Nah, got to do better than that to sell me a card!

Everything that's not supposed to happen

Home, sweet home

Ah, Hong Kong! What a city! Not that I had any time to experience it, but still! The temperature was just lovely. I walked around in a dress and a cardigan, not feeling the slightest cold. And what a bunch of fashionable, good-looking people that live in Hong Kong?! Both westerners and Asians, men as women. The only thing I found weird was speaking English to the taxi drivers and getting a bit of a “huh?!” response every time I tried to speak Mandarin to someone. I would love to live in Hong Kong one day though, it’s a wonderful place.

(And one thing’s for sure, I’m definitely coming back for a “no-work, all-holiday-Hong Kong-trip” sometime in the near future. That’s a city that’s just way too much fun to not experience properly!)

Although my days in Hong Kong were golden, the fun ended when I caught the Hong Kong express (super convenient) to the airport. It started off with my flight being 3 hours delayed. So, instead of landing at a reasonable, 8pm at Shanghai Pudong International Airport, I landed just before 11pm. That was after a rather shaky flight, as the compulsory turbulence managed to hit the plane so sudden and so violently that several air stewardesses fell over. People seemed rather taken (including me, I was vivid) until we got a small box of Häagen-dazs ice cream to compensate for any unpleasant experience, and afterwards it was all smiles and laughter (It should not be “If you truly love her –treat her Häagen-dazs” but “If you want to make them happy –give them Häagen-dazs”).

Once we landed, I moved from the shaky plane to a taxi. Unfortunately, my taxi driver engaged in a game called “driving-as-fast-as-I-can.” At one point, we almost hit another car, which resulted in me yelling:

-What are you doing? You don’t have to drive that fast you know?!

He simply replied with:

-I know I don’t have to, but I want to.

….and drove even faster. Like so many times before, I was clinging on to my backseat, eyes closed, feeling a mix of tired and terrified.

Getting home to my fridge-cold flat was not fun, but at least I was still alive, so no complaints.

And then everything went quite smooth (I managed to brush my teeth and go to bed without a new close-to-death-experience) until I woke up extremely early (and insanely tired) on Thu morning, determined to get to work extra early in order to catch up.

Just as I was about to hit the shower, fresh coffee brewing in my coffee machine, all the lights went out. My flat turned completely black (it was just after 6am and still dark outside). Furious, I slipped on a pair of PJs (gosh, I should throw those out, shouldn’t I?), UGG boots (ugly but useful), and a jumper and rushed downstairs (amazing that I didn’t manage to leave my keys inside, locking myself outside would have been the icing of the cake), yelling at everyone I saw that I needed some help because I’d had a power cut.

Still as angry (and a bit cold) I stormed back to my flat and sat at my table, armed with a flashlight, feeling angry, upset and stressed.

For 20 minutes I sat like that, feeling more stressed for every minute that went by. I even considered having an ice-cold shower, but the thought of stepping out of a cold shower and into an even colder flat made my skin prickle. When no one had arrived after 20 minutes I lost it, and ran downstairs again, this time begging someone to come upstairs and help me, tears in my eyes:

-Please, please, can you hurry up! I need to get to work!

This did it, and 2 minutes later a sleepy but friendly man joined me in the elevator, looking at me curiously (I bet it was my PJ pants).

It took him about 15 minutes to change the fuse and try things out, and for that he wanted 20 rmb. I paid without blinking, feeling like I’d just been granted a second chance to live once the power came back and the aircon started blasting out warm air. I ended up feeling rather grateful the rest of that day, despite me not having time to wash my hair. Never underestimate those little things in life! (and never turn on 2 aircons, 1 heater and 1 microwave at once in my crib).

Hong Kong

Me, and Mia (the blonde yeti to the right) in 2008. However, our friendship goes way back...

When you are reading this I am in (or on my way to, depending on if you are an early bird or not) Hong Kong. Left early Monday morning and will be back in Shanghai late, Wed night. Since it’s a work trip I cannot promise you any updates or photos.

Although I’ve been to Hong Kong once before I cannot say that I know the city. My last trip was a 5-day stopover on my way to Sweden from Australia, that, my friend Mia and I spent feeling as confused as lost. Not to mention giant-like. We re-named ourselves to Yeti-Mia and Giant-Jo (yeah, back then I was Jo, not Jonna, because I got sick of all Aussies calling me Joanna) and these were also the names we told everyone who wanted to take our photos (quite a few people and I'm not going to lie -we loved it). We had a great time even though I have no idea where we actually went? Like I said, a bit disorientated.

One of my freshest memories is from us, about to take a ride in a tiny rollercoaster (some amusement park –yeah I know, I know, don’t ask! And no, it was not Disneyland, this was back in 2002), sitting there with our knees hitting our chins (Mia is, as you might have guessed, is a flag pole and a big foot just like me), ignoring the worried glances from the staff. Just as we are about to take off, one of the guys comes running towards us and yells:

-Ladies! Keep your heads down! KEEP YOUR HEADS DOWN! Duck during the whole ride!!!

….and we did. Trust me, we did (I was actually so scared I closed my eyes, but according to my much braver friend Mia, our heads had not actually been THAT close to the poles. Just a bit).

Another good memory is from us realizing that the not-so-fancy-but-oh-so-expensive Guest House where we were staying (this was long before I had any connection to China and I did not know an iota about haggling) did not have a shower but a… hose. Which were located on top of the toilet?! So, in order to shower, you had to actually SIT (or stand –but not us because we were too tall. This hose was as tiny as it was short. I suppose we could have squatted) on the toilet and wash yourself. Not that I want to tempt you or anything, but we actually have photo proof of this. Scary, locked-up photos of us washing our hair while sitting on the toilet. Uh-uh.

Memory number three is about the food. Mia was not a fan of the local stuff and insisted on eating at Pizza Hut as often as possible. “Boring!” I thought –and dragged her along to all kinds of strange places that I could find. Since Mia still refused the cuisine, she would ask the waiters if they had some (safe) pasta/pizza dish she could get meanwhile I was munching away on my rice and god-knows-what. This worked well until one day when a waiter promised her a plate of Spaghetti Bolognese and ended up giving her a bowl of rice noodles, ketchup, sausages and baked beans?! In order to soothe her trauma and show what a good friend I was I agreed to eat with her at Pizza Hut the next day.

Yeah, so that’s the memories I hold from my last visit to Hong Kong. Today, 8 years older (GOSH!) and wiser (right?) I hope I can get a better idea of what the city is all about. 

Whisk Brownie -because you're worth it

My sister and her hubby digging into a Whisk brownie

Last night I went to Whisk Café and enjoyed something I have truly missed during my Suzhou days: a Whisk brownie. Like most girls, I am a chocolate addict, and the Whisk brownie is one of the best chocolate fixes my taste buds have experienced (there were some pretty good chocolate mud cakes in Fremantle in Australia too, but unfortunately they are kind of out of reach nowadays). If you live in Shanghai, love chocolate and have not yet tried the Whisk brownie, I recommend you to go and have a bite. It’s quite filling though; so don’t bother with a meal before it…

Back in 2006/2007 when I was living in Shanghai I was a regular at Whisk Café, mainly because our office was in the same neighbourhoods. Whisk's brownies became a Friday standard for all the girls in the editorial team.

Then I moved to Suzhou and could not indulge in the brownies quite as often as I would have liked to (my waistline is grateful), however, I still remember once when I went there with a girlfriend and we spent 20 minutes looking at the menus, another 10 at the counter and looking on all the chocolate cakes on display, and then in the end felt so guilty that we ended up ordering ourselves one cup of hot chocolate each. As we were sitting there, sipping our hot chocolates, a waiter suddenly appeared and placed a huge chocolate cake on our table, and handed us two spoons:

-From the manager. He thought you girls might really want one.

Flabbergasted, but happy, we enjoyed our treat and that’s about when I decided that I absolutely love Whisk. Not only do they do good brownies, but they also have a manager that truly knows what girls want!

Price check

Mmmm, blueberries! Not that easy to find in a city like Shanghai. Oh-so-good but oh-so-expensive, especially if you buy them in a western food shop like Cityshop. One box, same size as the photo (not sure about the brand, didn't look any closer) was priced 48 rmb/box when I was there last wknd. 

Then, you head to something mid-range, like the huge supermarket Carrefour (which has a rather modest "imported food section") where the same box sells for 32 rmb/box?! 

Already here I could no longer resist the temptation and bought a box telling myself that "I was worth being spoiled for one day" (would not think twice if it was chocolate).  

On the other hand, I found the price difference between Cityshop and Carrefour rather interesting. Is that the reward you get for being crammed together with hundreds of Chinese while shopping (=Carrefour) rather than being able to push your trolly in empty aisles (= Cityshop): Slightly cheaper blueberries?

Well if that's the case then it's not even worth it. Walked by a fruit stand at Ulumuqi Lu last night and saw, believe it or not, the very same blueberry box! 

-How much, I asked the vendor. 

-xxxx, he said. 

I instantly bought 2 boxes feeling not the slightest of guilt. 

Now the one million dollar question is: how much did the vendor charge for one box? (Remember that I'm a "stupid laowai" so I was probably overcharged -and still it was cheaper than in the supermarkets!). 

Point to be made: it really DOES pay off to do your shopping on the streets rather than in the supermarkets. 

My yoga attempt

In my right element

I’ve always loved sports: playing, watching it, talking about it. When I was living in Australia swapped basketball (which I had been playing since I was 11) to long distance running and hitting the gym. Worked fine for me, especially the running.

In China, however, running simply has not been that fun. And I tend to get bored with gyms. So, last night I decided I’m ought to try something different, namely hot yoga.

I’m not completely new to the hot yoga scene. Back in 2007 (when I was living in Shanghai) I tried it, thought it might be good for someone lacking any kinds of natural flexibility skills, and bought an expensive card, which I only half-heartedly used. This time I decided to be a bit smarter about things. I went to a yoga club, negotiated the membership fees and was told I could try a class and then decide afterwards if I wanted to join or not. If I wanted to join, that class would be free. If not, I would have to pay for it.

The young Chinese people behind the reception desk were super nice and friendly as we were talking, and last night I went in for a class.

Since I am not completely new to hot yoga (however, I am terrible at it, so people might as well think so when they see me strike a pose) I thought the one hour class was going to be fun.

Something went wrong, however, starting from the very beginning. I felt dizzy, ill, my feet and toes (yeah, toes?! I mean, come on!) were cramping up and for a while I was about to pass out (I have fainted numerous times in my life so I have learned to recognize the signs). After struggling for 30 minutes I decided to leave, apologized to the instructor (who was great, my bad state of health had nothing to do with him) and snuck out. I felt a bit bummed about it, but it’s always best to listen to your body.

Then I got to the reception, where I realized that the oh-so-friendly people were in fact glaring at me as I came walking.

-I didn’t feel so well so I decided to leave, I said.

-You have to pay.

-Yes, of course I will.

I paid in silence. Not another word. No talk about membership, about why I was not feeling well, about anything. Not even a goodbye when I left!

I left feeling rather stunned. They, who had been so super friendly suddenly behaved as if I was invisible, just because I left before the class ended (and, because I obviously would not be purchasing any membership card that night). Man, they sure have something to learn about customer service over here.

I decided about then and there that maybe yoga isn’t for me after all. Not only because of the way those fake friendly reception people treated me or because I felt bad during a class, but simply because, well… running is still more simple and straight-forward. Dear treadmill, here I come.

Always pay attention to notes

Another one bites the dust

Saturday morning. Jonna is not feeling well due to something that has to do with Absolut Rock vodka drinks. But there’s no such thing as lingering in bed on a Saturday in China, because rise and shine, at 9am it’s “knock on your door”-time.

Unsure of what I was thinking I opened the door wearing blue, men’s PJ pants, an oversized jumper and with my hair looking like a badly made bird’s nest on top of my head.

The young, perky looking Chinese guy outside my door, however, barely noticed my state of mess:

-I’m here to exchange your gas meter!

Gas meter… gas meter. Vague memories of me washing my face in ice-cold water the night before and sending angry text messages to my landlord suddenly started to play in my head. (Note to self: don’t text your landlord when you’ve had cocktails. On the other hand: nice work Jonna! You told him well after midnight and by 9am the next morning he’s already sent someone out to change the gas meter?! Not bad for being a landlord that took 4 days to get me an internet connection despite first promising to do it straight away).

-So did Mr Yang called you? I asked the young, perky Chinese guy who was already well underway with changing my gas meter.

-Mr who? No Mr Yang. I am just changing the meter for you.

Now, I’m definitely not kitchen-device-smart in any way, but as he was pulling and twisting that gas meter of mine, it suddenly hit me….

-Hang on a minute? Isn’t it the water heater that you should be changing?

For a short moment, the perky guy’s eyes went blank.

-I am changing the gas meter. Later someone else will come and change the stove.

-The stove?!

-Yes, the stove!

-The stove?!

-Yes. The STOVE.

-How about the water heater?

-What about it?

A terrible moment of complete confusion hit me. The perky guy went on meanwhile I, feeling rather perplexed, grabbed my phone and started to panic-type a sms to my landlord.

“They are changing the stove and the gas meter. The water heater is broken. What is going on?”

Five minutes later I received a not-so-comforting reply:

“I have no idea. Wait at home. I am coming over.”

The perky guy left holding my “old” (I say “old” because it was practically new, hence my hesitation to him exchanging it) gas meter under his arm and slamming the door after him, leaving me with a:

-Don’t go anywhere! Someone will come and change your stove soon!

-Why? I managed to yell after him, suddenly feeling an instant urge to understand what on earth was going on. I ran up from the couch (where I had parked myself, oblivious to what else to do) and opened the door and there, straight in front of my eyes was a bunch of other perky looking young Chinese guys walking around, one of them with a gas meter under his arm and on his way into my… neighbour’s flat?!

-What are you doing? I demanded.

-We are changing the gas meter! One guy said.

-WHY?

-Because…. Miss, have you not seen the note downstairs?

-The note?

-Yes, the note saying that we are changing all gas meters, stoves and water heaters in your building today? You should remain at home because people will come and visit you throughout the day. If you want to choose what kind of stove you want you can go downstairs to the yard and look at the different types on display….

Ah, that note!

Nah, I’m not even going to try that. I had not noticed any note. In fact, I had deliberately not paid attention to any notes when I had arrived home from the office, late every night, tired and hungry, wanting so much for the slow elevator to move faster and take me up and definitely not wanting to pay any attention to notes about gas meters or anything else for that matter.

I had completely ignored all kinds of notes.

(Well, how is it that it goes again? You learn from your mistakes?! Yeah, something like that!)

I ended up spending Saturday inside waiting around for people to come and change things in my kitchen (around 3pm they were done with everything. By then I was so hungry I was about to drink the expired milk in my fridge). The hot water arrived sometime around 2.30pm and my landlord came around 1pm.

-Jonna, did you work till midnight last night?! He said, looking as if he had seen a ghost at the sight of me.

-Working? Eh, yes. I lied, simply wimping out and refusing to admit that I had in fact been sending drunk-text messages to him.

-Wow!

The story ended somewhere after that, by the time my kitchen floor was close to black as a result of 8964982634 more or less perky (but all very dirty) guys being in there changing everything that they could change. Sometime around 3.30 I enjoyed a delayed breakfast/lunch and then Saturday started.