Duped

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I have no room to complain.  I moved here and I didn’t bother to learn the language.  I have picked up a few choice phrases. I can order food, direct a cab (If I actually know where I’m going), say hello and thank you, and with a little effort and counting of fingers, I can decipher numbers.  But my inability to speak Mandarin combined with my humble Midwest upbringing marks me as a fairly good target for being fleeced. 

When I first moved here, I ended up paying something like three times the regular fare to the ferry terminal.  I didn’t know my numbers yet, didn’t know a normal rate, and was too scared to argue with the man.  I handed over the wad of cash and grumbled my way to the ferry terminal.  When I finally calculated how much I actually spent on that ride, I was down right mad at myself.  That would be the last time I’d be duped, by golly!

Right.

Enter Luohu.

Luohu is a shopping center on the border with Hong Kong.  It has cheap “replica” purses, wallets, clothing, shoes, art, luggage, etc.  “Missy, missy, want Gucci, Prada? Just looking?” 

Nothing at Luohu has a set price.  It is adjustable, meaning you bargain.  Bargaining is a sport at Luohu.  Many factors affect the base price.  If you are western, you get the western price.  To which you always reply, “That’s too expensive” and walk away.  At that point, the games begin. 

“Okay, what will you pay?”

Back and forth the bargaining goes. 

“I am local; I live in Shenzhen. I have many friends.  You give me a good price, I’ll send many people to your shop.” 

Phrases like, “Best price, special price for you, top quality” are hurled at you to try and make you stumble and accept the price. The Holy Grail is when you walk away and they run down the hallway after you, grab your arm (yes, they grab you) and say quietly, “Okay”. 

A general rule is if you pay 50% or less of the price that they initially quote you, you’ve done okay. I shoot for 60% off. Experts get up to 70%. 

Truly, I am terrible at bargaining.  I believe the lines.  I trust that they really are giving me a “special price.” I don’t want to offend them by offering a price that is too low.  Basically, I just get exhausted with the process and end up paying way too much for poor quality merchandise.  Some people I’ve gone with are ninja’s at bargaining.  I learned quite a lot about the process, but I’m still a grasshopper when it comes to this.

A tell tale sign that you are getting worked over is when the shopkeepers switch to speaking in Cantonese … just in case the white girl speaks Mandarin.  Last weekend, I went and had Boc Choi, my scooter fixed.  The shop owner replaced a spark plug (which I’m 90% certain it didn’t need) and did a little tuning up of the motor.  He turns to the other guy in the shop and starts speaking in Cantonese before he turns to me and asks in Mandarin for 20 RMB.  Now I know 20 kwai is only $3.00 for parts and labor, but still.  I’m pretty sure if I spoke Mandarin or Cantonese the price would have been half or even on the house. 

The coup de grace occurred after paying rent the other day.  I went to pay for my tax receipt (fapiao) and saw an advertisement for MY apartment hanging on the outer window of the rental agency. It was my exact apartment with the crazy yellow walls and everything and it was advertised for 1000 RMB less than what I am paying!  Seriously!  Have I really been swindled into paying an extra $150 a month for the past six months?  I ran the situation past my teaching assistant who basically said that it is an advertising strategy that many agencies use.  They advertise an apartment that is no longer available to get people to inquire and come into the business.   Well that explains the advertisement, but it doesn’t explain the price.  What do I do with this knowledge?  Part of me, the Midwest part of me, wants to just leave it be. I don’t want to trouble anyone. It’s my own fault; I agreed to the rent.  Andrea, accept you’re a rube and suck it up.

But then there is the other part of me.

The part who has lived in China for six and a half months.

The part who was hoodwinked by a taxi driver.

The part who was fooled into paying entirely too much for a purse.

The part who knows that every single price quoted to me is raised just because I’m from the U.S.

And that part of me is pissed.