The Art of the Hard Bargain
They say that everything has a price. In China, everything has at least 8 of them.
Everyone has their way of bargaining and negotiating; in some circumstances, it’s a sign of weakness if you don’t do it. Like at the job interview I had at the law firm last week. After stammering and sputtering in Chinese, the interviewer finally asked me what type of remuneration I was expecting. I told him “I don’t care.” He looked offended, as if I had no sense of value or worth, since I clearly didn’t know how to assign a figure to my own contributions.
“You don’t want to negotiate your monthly salary?”
“Money’s not the most important thing to me,” I replied.
The concept was lost on him. He was Shanghai-nese, after all. With a smile, he ushered me out the door. I had failed at the art of bargaining.
When I gave the same response to the prostitute in front of the barbershop, however, there was no dispute from her at all. See? It all depends on the circumstances.
There is no better place to be immersed in the crazy art of price-bargaining in Shanghai than at XiangYang Fashion Market, where a few hundred vendors provide a bootleg buffet feast for anyone daring enough to venture in. I shan’t mention the mosquito-like dealers who shuffle about, ambushing shoppers with incessant calls of “DVD! Purse! DVD!” You have to swat them away with the grace and elegance of a fat pizza delivery man with sweaty armpits. “Me no want, go away!” I always respond, for some reason forgetting how to speak proper English. When you tussle, you gotta tussle!
Most of the vendors don’t solicit, however, and will only approach you once you’re inside, thumbing through their wares. A funny thing happens in these places, however: the longer you stay, the better their product becomes. According to them, that is. For instance, here was an exchange I had recently with a woman selling scented candles.
“So how long will this candle burn for?” I asked her.
“Well, I’d say 20 hours, but for you…30,” she responded.
Hmmm, still not long enough for me. I wandered around a bit, sniffing the other candles and picking at my ear. I returned to her 5 minutes later and picked up the same candle.
“You know, this candle smells pretty good, but it’s not quite what I’m looking for.”
“That’s no problem, it’s really because of the humidity and the temperature that’s making this candle smell this way. When you take it back to your place, it will smell exactly the way you want it to smell,” she retorted.
I still wasn’t sure if this was the right candle for me, so I furrowed my brow in thought and strolled around some more. I returned again and picked up the same candle. The woman leaned over and whispered, “You know, this candle will actually sing your favorite lullabies before you go to sleep.”
“Is it a male voice or a female voice?” I inquired.
“Male.”
I said “No thanks,” and started walking away.
“You American asshole, I should stick this candle up your ass and light it on fire!” People at XiangYang Fashion Market are really affable folk..
When you actually do find something that you want, then the bargaining begins. Different people have different methods, and some things are simply out of your control. For instance, if you speak Mandarin and not Shanghai-nese, they immediately know you’re not a local and will give you the “Chinese, but not local” price, which is usually at a 40% premium opening price. People like me usually get quoted this price, unless we take our local friends along. Watching a Shanghai-nese person negotiate price is like watching Robert Crumb drawing something on a napkin at a diner: you just don’t want to look away while it’s happening. My friend Pei Pei likes to laugh at the vendor’s opening price, no matter what it is. A recent exchange regarding a red Nike sport bag went something like this:
Pei Pei: How much for this bag?
Vendor: 120 RMB
Pei Pei (laughs)
Vendor: Ok little lady, how much then?
Pei Pei: 50 is more like it, but maybe if you’re nice I’ll go 51 RMB.
Vendor: Are you insane?
Pei Pei: Sure, if you say so.
Vendor: 90, and that’s the lowest I go
Pei Pei (slowly dropping the bag): Wow, this bag is heavy, it seems to be slipping from my grip.
Vendor: Fine, 85, but you’re really robbing me.
Pei Pei: Gosh, this bag is about to hit the ground.
Vendor: Don’t you want me to make a living?
Pei Pei: Don’t you want me to have this pretty bag?
Vendor: OK, it’s getting late and I want to go home. How about 60?
Pei Pei: 50 sounds pretty good.
Vendor: It’s only a difference of 10! What’s the big deal?
Pei Pei: If it’s really not a big deal, then you can sell it to me for 40.
Vendor (beaten): Fine, Fine, Fine. Looks like I won’t be making any money today.
Pei Pei: Wow, this bag is suddenly a lot lighter!
When you go in without local reinforcement, the problem is that no matter how hard you bargain, you’re just not quite sure if you’re still getting ripped off or not. Just because you get the vendor to go down to your opening price, how do you know that your opening price was too high to begin with? The worst scenario is when this happens:
Eric: How much for this silk brassiere?
Vendor: 80 RMB
Eric: No way, that’s way too expensive.
Vendor: Then what’s your price?
Eric: How about 60?!
Vendor: Sure, no problem.
And then the vendor starts wrapping the thing up, and you’re standing there just knowing that you got shafted. And it’s not a candy-coated feeling.
At the end of the day, the most you can hope for is to put up a good fight and walk away with something at a price that you yourself are content with. Still, I often leave the vendor after a round of bargaining with a sense that I paid just too much because I’m not local. And then I inevitably walk by a handful of American tourists, trying their best to haggle in English.
Tourist #1 to Tourist #2: This price of 200 RMB is the lowest he’ll go.
Tourist #2 to Tourist #1: What a bargain, let’s take it!
They fork over there money, the proud new owners of a red Nike sport bag.
I smile, and feel much better about myself.
Everyone has their way of bargaining and negotiating; in some circumstances, it’s a sign of weakness if you don’t do it. Like at the job interview I had at the law firm last week. After stammering and sputtering in Chinese, the interviewer finally asked me what type of remuneration I was expecting. I told him “I don’t care.” He looked offended, as if I had no sense of value or worth, since I clearly didn’t know how to assign a figure to my own contributions.
“You don’t want to negotiate your monthly salary?”
“Money’s not the most important thing to me,” I replied.
The concept was lost on him. He was Shanghai-nese, after all. With a smile, he ushered me out the door. I had failed at the art of bargaining.
When I gave the same response to the prostitute in front of the barbershop, however, there was no dispute from her at all. See? It all depends on the circumstances.
There is no better place to be immersed in the crazy art of price-bargaining in Shanghai than at XiangYang Fashion Market, where a few hundred vendors provide a bootleg buffet feast for anyone daring enough to venture in. I shan’t mention the mosquito-like dealers who shuffle about, ambushing shoppers with incessant calls of “DVD! Purse! DVD!” You have to swat them away with the grace and elegance of a fat pizza delivery man with sweaty armpits. “Me no want, go away!” I always respond, for some reason forgetting how to speak proper English. When you tussle, you gotta tussle!
Most of the vendors don’t solicit, however, and will only approach you once you’re inside, thumbing through their wares. A funny thing happens in these places, however: the longer you stay, the better their product becomes. According to them, that is. For instance, here was an exchange I had recently with a woman selling scented candles.
“So how long will this candle burn for?” I asked her.
“Well, I’d say 20 hours, but for you…30,” she responded.
Hmmm, still not long enough for me. I wandered around a bit, sniffing the other candles and picking at my ear. I returned to her 5 minutes later and picked up the same candle.
“You know, this candle smells pretty good, but it’s not quite what I’m looking for.”
“That’s no problem, it’s really because of the humidity and the temperature that’s making this candle smell this way. When you take it back to your place, it will smell exactly the way you want it to smell,” she retorted.
I still wasn’t sure if this was the right candle for me, so I furrowed my brow in thought and strolled around some more. I returned again and picked up the same candle. The woman leaned over and whispered, “You know, this candle will actually sing your favorite lullabies before you go to sleep.”
“Is it a male voice or a female voice?” I inquired.
“Male.”
I said “No thanks,” and started walking away.
“You American asshole, I should stick this candle up your ass and light it on fire!” People at XiangYang Fashion Market are really affable folk..
When you actually do find something that you want, then the bargaining begins. Different people have different methods, and some things are simply out of your control. For instance, if you speak Mandarin and not Shanghai-nese, they immediately know you’re not a local and will give you the “Chinese, but not local” price, which is usually at a 40% premium opening price. People like me usually get quoted this price, unless we take our local friends along. Watching a Shanghai-nese person negotiate price is like watching Robert Crumb drawing something on a napkin at a diner: you just don’t want to look away while it’s happening. My friend Pei Pei likes to laugh at the vendor’s opening price, no matter what it is. A recent exchange regarding a red Nike sport bag went something like this:
Pei Pei: How much for this bag?
Vendor: 120 RMB
Pei Pei (laughs)
Vendor: Ok little lady, how much then?
Pei Pei: 50 is more like it, but maybe if you’re nice I’ll go 51 RMB.
Vendor: Are you insane?
Pei Pei: Sure, if you say so.
Vendor: 90, and that’s the lowest I go
Pei Pei (slowly dropping the bag): Wow, this bag is heavy, it seems to be slipping from my grip.
Vendor: Fine, 85, but you’re really robbing me.
Pei Pei: Gosh, this bag is about to hit the ground.
Vendor: Don’t you want me to make a living?
Pei Pei: Don’t you want me to have this pretty bag?
Vendor: OK, it’s getting late and I want to go home. How about 60?
Pei Pei: 50 sounds pretty good.
Vendor: It’s only a difference of 10! What’s the big deal?
Pei Pei: If it’s really not a big deal, then you can sell it to me for 40.
Vendor (beaten): Fine, Fine, Fine. Looks like I won’t be making any money today.
Pei Pei: Wow, this bag is suddenly a lot lighter!
When you go in without local reinforcement, the problem is that no matter how hard you bargain, you’re just not quite sure if you’re still getting ripped off or not. Just because you get the vendor to go down to your opening price, how do you know that your opening price was too high to begin with? The worst scenario is when this happens:
Eric: How much for this silk brassiere?
Vendor: 80 RMB
Eric: No way, that’s way too expensive.
Vendor: Then what’s your price?
Eric: How about 60?!
Vendor: Sure, no problem.
And then the vendor starts wrapping the thing up, and you’re standing there just knowing that you got shafted. And it’s not a candy-coated feeling.
At the end of the day, the most you can hope for is to put up a good fight and walk away with something at a price that you yourself are content with. Still, I often leave the vendor after a round of bargaining with a sense that I paid just too much because I’m not local. And then I inevitably walk by a handful of American tourists, trying their best to haggle in English.
Tourist #1 to Tourist #2: This price of 200 RMB is the lowest he’ll go.
Tourist #2 to Tourist #1: What a bargain, let’s take it!
They fork over there money, the proud new owners of a red Nike sport bag.
I smile, and feel much better about myself.
posted by sushipanda at 9:46 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home