Life dissected, for your voyueristic pleasure.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Psychological portraits.

After the disheartening Econs paper, I went to Orchard. I was in Giordano, all set on buying a pair of pants when the cashier said to me in her carefully cultivated English (that couldn't quite keep out the PRC in it), "If you spend sixty dollars, you get a thirty percent discount. Would you like to buy something else?"

I shook my head.

"I really recommend you get something else," she implored.

I gave in, and circled the store again, looking for something as cheap as possible to make up for that miserly one dollar that I was short of. I picked up a sheer white tank that was made out of bamboo fibre (which is just a hippie way of saying rayon or viscose), quite pretty, but not something I would have bought if I didn't need to. It was $15, and a little price check with the calculator ensured that I'll still be paying less than I would have if I bought the pants alone. I brought the top to the counter, only to be told that it wasn't eligible for a discount.

I hovered around the racks of clothing again, yet none caught my eye. I had almost settled for an ugly, nondescript racerback when I saw a couple rifling through the rack of tanks that I had just contemptuously dismissed earlier. I can't remember what exactly they said, but their entire demeanour just revealed that they too needed to hit that sixty dollar mark. Seizing the moment, I hurried towards them and asked, "Are you looking for something to make up sixty dollars?"

I gave them a moment to register what I posited and continued, "I'm also short of sixty dollars - so maybe you would like to share?"

Another moment passed for that to sink in. (It sounds like I had carefully engineered my request to be so systematic, but no, I only discovered it in retrospect.)

"Or do you just want to buy something else on your own - then it's alright."

I continued to look enquiringly at the lady, when the man piped up, "As long as I get that discount, I'm okay with anything."

Then I looked at her (to seek her approval), then she looked at him (to seek his approval), then he looked at her (to acknowledge his approval), then he looked at me (to convey his approval) and repeated, "As long as I get that discount, I'm okay with anything."

"Great! Shall we pay now?" I said.

We headed to the counter, when the man asked if I could "do the math". (he said math with a "th", not "mats" like how normal people usually say it) I raised the bulky graphing calculator which I still clutched and said without making eye contact, "I've got my calculator here." The man, probably in his early thirties, had a deep, mellow, DJ-like voice. When he responded, "oh ya, NJ, can't be that bad at math", he managed to make the "J" sound like "zhay".

While we were at the counter waiting for the rich Indonesian Chinese in front of us to settle their purchases, I made conversation with the lady. Or rather, she made conversation with me. "So how did you know I needed to reach sixty dollars?"

"Oh, because I saw you at the tank tops, and no one would normally buy the tank tops unless they need the discount!"

She laughed, and the requsite office-lady shimmer eyeshadow on her fair skin sparkled. I laughed, too.

The man asked, "So how much were you short of sixty?"

"One dollar," I replied in that "I know, right?" tone. (I can't seem to find a word for that tone. What is it? A short discussion with Leung Yan yielded this: the tone is one of affirmation and acknowledgement, yet somewhat self-effacing, dismissive, and cynical. Tell me if you can find a single word that can condense all of that.)

"That sucks, man," he said. The lady laughed appreciatively at her boyfriend's seeming crudeness to a stranger.

"So how much were you short of?" I inquired in return.

"Eight bucks - which is not that sucky." His girlfriend laughed again.

Anxious to return to the financial conerns that he had initially fussed about, he said to me, "So, you'll pay 30% and she'll pay 30% too, right?"

"Actually (I dragged the word out a bit), we pay 70% each."

"Ah yes, you're right. NJ, very quick," he conceded. She laughed again.

When it came to paying, I handed my cash over to the lady. She is represented by the grey dot, and I am represented by the black dot. Her boyfriend was wearing some pastel blue shirt and hence is represented by the blue dot. (I should actually be the grey dot, but well, fluke.)

When the cashier asked for payment, the girl pretended to look like as if she was going to pay when the man whipped out his credit card (not platinum or anything, just a regular blue credit card - DBS? POSB everyday?) and did the magnanimous thing. I noticed that he used his left hand to sign. The lady then reached across me to pass the cash that I had just passed to her to her boyfriend.

So eventually, payment was settled, and the lady thanked me profusely even though I should be the more grateful one. She asked me to take care, and said she hoped to see me around, and I walked away with as much urgency I could muster.

She's quite the generic office lady: slim, fair, rebonded hair cut into a bob, tight pencil skirt. He, on the other hand, looks like a ruffled and malcontent office worker with thick-rimmed glasses and slightly thinning hair with white strands. In contrast to his smooth and mellow voice, she sounded like she would have been more comfortable speaking Chinese.

I'm guessing that he fell for her looks and she fell for his wit.

*******

I had cheese brownie from The Baker's Story. They have a little booth at the Takashimaya basement. It's not like the dense, fudgy brownie that I'm familiar with, but instead is rather light, yet very creamy. It's feels vaguely like cotton candy when you first bite into it, but it eventually dissolves into a rich creaminess. I can't quite explain it, you've got to try it!

I've resorted to watching low-budget productions such as Channel 8's 9pm show, the one about the dad who contracted AIDs, and did you see how skinny Rui En has gotten? The chick who plays the volunteer? It's appalling! She used to have chubby cheeks when she smiled. Now her legs are stick-thin, quite a dramatic change. Hmm, I wonder how she did it.

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