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A place for Writing 12 students to read each other's writing, to critique, to suggest, to improve.
About Me
- Brad
- Former adult teacher who loves island beaches. Happy homebody and family man; once devoted dog owner, now without Tashi, my Tibetan Terrier. I prefer the absurdity of the imagination to the absurdity of imagining nothing.
11 comments:
Once a month I shop at SuperStore. Given the store's size and all its temptations, I always bring a detailed list. The lineup at the end of the shop is the most interesting time of all. Then, I get to observe what's in other people's carts. My sister (a very long time ago) used to work as a grocery packer and would tell me that the people who complained the most about the price of food had the most snack products, soda pop,and pre-prepared meals in their carts. It seems that nothing has changed! It amazes me to see boxes and boxes of crackers, premade meals, pop and other items in other people's carts. In mine, you find basic foods: bags of walnuts, jugs of orange juice, trays of chicken wings. One thing that always happens to me is the "coupon surprise." I pay no attention to advertising, so, often, I receive a "Do you have a coupon?" question from the cashier. Last time, I got 30 dollars off my order and the cashier kindly gave it to me even though I didn't have it. Instead, she smiled and sent me off to find the "greeter" at the door to obtain one for her to put in the cash drawer. One time, I even was given an unexpected turkey (which ended up as my American friend's Thanksgiving dinner!) It's always an adventure shopping at SuperStore!
Since my mom can't read the food labels well, I have to translate them to her... I remember one day, when my mom went food shopping, and bought a bread, but when she tasted it, it was sour... Later it turned out a bread she bought was a sour dough bread, not a white bread... she must've thought the bread was a white bread...
Humble Face, Rude Face
The adaption to their environment is superbly strong—that’s the comment to Hongkongness from me, and the world.
My husband almost never takes me to Cristal Mall shopping. “That’s a place not suitable for you.” That’s how he told me. We’d rather to go somewhere else paying higher rate but enjoy a decent environment.
In my countable shopping times in Cristal Mall, there were two completely treatments I got from the peddlers--Hongkongness, I could say so: being very humbly and nicely treated when I spoke English; or being rudely and impatiently treated, when I spoke Mandarin.
I know my English is too good for them to figure out that I’m a new immigrant too—I forgive them for not being educated too much, so they treated me like a “Canadian,” each time, with a big, fake and humble smile on their yellow faces. Suddenly once I spoke Mandarin, they changed another face. I was confused—did I wear something wrong or forget to wash my face that day? No! Not at all! Then I changed another table, same rude face. Then I changed again and spoke English this time, I was treated nicely again with the humble face.
When I realised this, I couldn't stop complaining about them to my husband, he didn't agree much since he never see their humble faces. Then I was banned to go shopping with him in Cristal Mall as obviously I had too much complaint.
The longer I stayed here, the more I found the impression left to local people about Chinese was actually all from Hongkongness who felt so pity about Hong Kong is no longer belongs to the British any more.Aha! I never find there are any places or origins in this world are so fond of being ruled by foreign nation. Luckily, along with the development of China, there are more and more Hongkongness can stand out and say they are Chinese.
Wandering around in a mall and checking over the goods is my wife’s hobby, but not for me. At that time, I’d rather sit and wait on the bench. I think it is the most boring thing in the world—just a thing of wasting time. So, I rarely go shopping, unless it is absolutely necessary.
This time is special. Before Christmas, my son’s lap computer refuses to work. The screen gets dark totally. At this moment, he needs it urgently, for ten days later he will go to Romania University for co-op.
The Future Shop shows a lot of notebooks, different brands and different sizes. It’s really a feast of eyes. Salesman comes to us and introduces their merchandises in detail.” This one is on sale and that one is better in performance.” Looking and comparing, we still haven’t made a decision. Knowing our need and thinking, he smiles and gives us a suggestion—a clever choice between the real price and the use value, and that helps much.
Running in this new notebook, he smiles and smiles suffusing with satisfaction. It manifests its technological specifications of this computer are excellent. It is well worth buying. By this way I get a lesson that perhaps we need to learn a little of “The ABC of commodity”.
Words: 217
One day, I shopped at London Drugs. Approaching electronic area, I was attracted by a big LCD TV, which was connected with blu- ray DVD player. A movie was playing. The sound was good; the image was good; everything was good. “Awesome” I thought. “Hi. If you have any questions please let me know,” a salesperson said, whom I had no idea when he had stood beside me. “Sure” I replied with a smile even though I was startled by his sudden voice. Several seconds after he left, another salesperson came to me. What he said was almost same as that salesman, and I answered the same as well. Then he left. After a while, I turned my face and saw the third salesperson standing not far from me. Moreover, our eyes met. I thought he must come , so I ran before he did.
I always get my bus pass at Shoppers Drug Mart because it is close to my working place. Though I feel a bit annoyed, I always feel a bit secure when a cashier ask me for ID whenever I use my visa. But the cashier I purchased from appalled me the other day.
I handed her my visa when she called out my total as I rummaged my purse for ID. Then after a few minutes, she gave the receipt and pen for me to sign. I did and waited she would ask for the ID, but instead she shoved my visa, receipt and bus pass in my palms without even matching the signature, not to mention asking for ID.
How could she know if I was the rightful owner of the visa without matching signature or even asking for ID.? I was shocked and angry. But it was not the right time to complain because I wasn’t sure if I had ID with me…
Slow Pace; Fast Pace
I went to shop both at Safeway and grocery store at Crystal Mall.
I saw the shop assistant at Safeway always takes time to talk with shoppers; they know their name by heart and chatted just like an old friend – they talked about the incidences happening with customer’s family and friends.
The grocery store at Crystal Mall is really fast paced. Every time, after the casher scanned all the grocery and put in the bag, my hands started to reach out into my pocket for the money. She would just start the scanning for the next customer and after the next customer has already paid the money, I just found my money in the pocket.
“How much is it?” since the total amount was not on the screen any more. Surprisingly she still remembered the amount. I was pushed forward by the tides of following customers; kind of doubted myself for being too comfortable about the Canadian slow pace.
It was 10 o'clock in the morning and I don't know what I was doing in a mall in Manila that early. The shops were just opening and I was there walking the long tiled hallways of a vast, still not crowded mall,wandering aimlessly with nothing on my mind,just pure boredom.And then suddenly,footsteps rushed from behind and woke me up my day-dream.He was a young kid, not more than three feet tall. He ran pass-through me in a flash- and he gave me a finger. The Security Guard was after him,with his whistle blowing,the kid must have done something wrong.I was bored and had had nothing better to do,the kid gave me a finger in the middle of my day-dreaming, so I might as well do something productive like catching the brat, I thought.I could see him at the the other side of the mall-and I had been in that place more than ten times or maybe hundred times when I was in high-school-and he was running out of hallways.I ran as fast as I could with one aim in my mind, to slap him on his face. At that moment I felt so alive, really alive.As if I was some action hero in a movie, I was running down the escalator, skidding over the shiny floor and tripping from the shopper's bags. I was like James Bond,or maybe not. I arrived first at the scene.The Security Guard looking down, I,the Hero, was looking up and the culprit,like a mice in a mouse-trap, was inside the elevator with nowhere to run.As soon as the door opened,he immediately lifted his baggy shirt. He stole a bag of bread and a jar of peanut butter. He told me he had not eaten anything for two days and didn't have any money to buy. He ran away from home because his father was a drunk,his mother was a gambler and they both beat him every single day.He showed me his wounds, some were still bleeding and some were badly beaten that parts of his body turned purple. He started crying and begged me to save him from the tired and furious Guard.I was once a street kid, so I somehow felt his pain. At the end, I paid for the food that he had stolen, and bought him a coffee and a bottle of water-he didn't steal drinks.He promised me that he wouldn't steal again and would try to go back to his "home" and live a normal life.I believe in him.
I went back inside the mall and continued my walk as if nothing happened.
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