Tell me I’m Pretty

If there is one saving grace to retail (and it’s a stretch to even suggest there is) it is not, as may be expected, the 50% discount on clothes (because it just makes it that much easier to SPEND your hard-earned cash there), for me, it is in fact the customers.

I guess I haven’t been working in customer service long enough to have a horror story about a crazy that walked off the street and into a rage at me because they were having a bad day (although there was a lady a few days ago who yelled at a co-worker of mine when she tried to “return” a pair of pants my store doesn’t carry with the tags snipped off).

I am a people person, a curious writer, and generally a nosy mole, who likes to try and find out what makes people tick. Don’t worry, I have already quizzed all my co-workers about their life stories (and stealthily tried to figure out how they got stuck in retail after having degrees…more out of horrified fascination than anything else…like looking at the blue flame welders use..bad for the senses but impossible to look away) and a part of the selling gig is to try and figure out what the client wants and how to get it.

The shop/chain I work for sells only women’s clothes and accessories and they are kind of corporate, but on the reasonably priced side. The shop is also located in an underground shopping mall on the PATH system (a rabbit warren-like affair that stretches underground through parts of downtown Toronto to prevent people from having to go outside in the freezing cold. It is like an underground city with clothing stores, banks, food courts…waxing places…juice bars…there’s probably a car dealership down there somewhere. I’m not sure why there would be…but I’m sure there is) and most of the customers we get work in the corporate offices stacked on top of us.

The ladies range in age from Intern-types fresh out of Uni, to the older working woman. And while there are customers I have connected with, and those that I haven’t, my favourite age group is the late thirties to mid forties/early fifties. These are women who ACTUALLY listen to what I have to say, ask my opinion, want to open the fitting room door and show me what they got.

Some of these women remind me of my Mum. They are mostly patient and not used to shopping for themselves so they are willing to listen to suggestions. They have money so they aren’t horrified by a sweater that costs $30.

A lot of them have body issues. A lady today who was gorgeous, Indian skin but with a cool British accent, told me she’d recently lost 19 pounds on some German diet I think she called the “Dukan”? She liked a little black corporate dress and she tried on the Small and the XS. She had a petite frame but you know what? She had a bit of a wobbly bit on front.

“My Kids did that”

She told me. And she tried on both sizes, got a belt to try to jazz it up, put a cardigan over it to see…and she just couldn’t sell it to herself. My approach to this crappy job is that I never want to be pushy. I am a natural talker and I’m honest. I am competitive so, I want to do well in any situation, but I REFUSE to lie and act like a simpering idiot. I was straight with her and told her it looked great but that it was a personal preference. I too happened to be wearing a little black corporate number and you know what? I have a jiggle round the middle too. AND I HAVEN’T EVEN HAD KIDS! No excuse.

This lady, who was super nice and interested in my Aussie accent told me that she hadn’t worn form-fitting clothes in a long time. She was getting used to her body again. She didn’t buy the dress, but I think she felt a little bit confident and sexier having tried it on.

Same deal with the lady who came in on Friday and need an after work drinks type shirt for a last-minute reunion at a pub. She grabbed an XL shirt and I made her get a large. She was shocked. I made her try it on and it wasn’t even tight. It was more form-fitting for sure. I told her the truth, that she had a great waist and that she should emphasize it. We chatted for quite a while and when she left, (after buying the shirt) she turned to my manager and said “I hate shopping, but i’ll be back because of her”, and she smiled and waved, even gave me a cheeky wink!

These women, who are still attractive, functioning, smart, hardworking people, come into a shop for 15-20 minutes and talk to me – blah, under functioning, retail-bum, Masters-holding random (who by the way used to dress appallingly), and they can walk away feeling good because somebody told them that something looked good on them?

I want to stand on the street corner stopping random people and tell them they look nice today, or that that colour suits them. If an item of clothing can put a spring back in their step, then maybe retail ain’t so bad.

Anyway, I’ll keep getting up and going back because I need to support myself while I do this internship and figure out WTF I am doing with my life…but if these ladies keep coming back…then maybe I’ll even learn to smile about it…

a bit…

Paris

I’m proud of you

I tell people frequently that I have two brothers. Okay that’s not true. When people ask me if I have siblings, I often tell people “I have two GAY brothers.”

I don’t know why I say it like that. Being Gay is not the feature that defines them. K is a compassionate, sweet, hardworking, wise guy who takes off to Europe for two weeks just to look around. R is the fiercest and most outspoken person I know. He might still be figuring out who he is, but he’s always questioning himself and the world/society around him. He challenges pre-disposition and assumption.

I am sure they don’t go around telling people that they have a STRAIGHT sister.

I have written about my family in lots of different posts. They are a huge part of my life despite being far away. You have to understand that when you are an expatriate family, you are a tight unit, a cog that spins separate but connected to the rest of a wider machine. You move around, and the only thing that stays the same, are your five faces in the picture frame.

When R came out when he was 14 (I was 19) I was at University and the news shocked me. Not that there was anything wrong being gay, but I didn’t honestly think of my baby brother of having sexual preferences of any kind. He is still my baby brother now, even though he’s allowed to drink alcohol in bars (that’s weird).

That first year, when he was out and honest about his sexuality, I spent a great deal of time making gay jokes with my other brother K. Behind his back, some to his face, some little comments here and there that we giggled about. AND I’M THE OLDEST. I was supposed to lead by example.

I’ll never forget when I got a call from my Mum a year later saying, “By the way K has come out too.”

I was shocked, and I obviously felt ill. I had spent twelve months making fun of being gay (even though I considered myself tolerant and had some gay friends) with my brother, who was also gay, and who hadn’t told me.

I felt like an awful person first off, and an awful sister. These are my kid brothers, the ones who DESTROYED my barbies and who played hot wheels with me, and who rolled around in the dirt and collected frogs in a bucket during monsoons with me. What did it matter who they loved/wanted to bang? Hadn’t I always said that I was colour-blind, having been raised an Expat Brat? Why did my tolerance only extend so far.

I also felt left out. Like they hadn’t been able to confide in me. I used to OVERSHARE with them and they couldn’t even tell me this one, major thing?

I beat myself up a lot for a while. I questioned a lot of my “tolerant” beliefs and my fears, because that is what it is when you are homophobic, and that is what I was when I cracked gay jokes.

I questioned myself every time I used the word gay as a derogatory, such as “That’s soooo gay” to be a bad thing. How could I say that? How could I not have known?

The truth is, there is a lot of ignorance out there, and people happy to reside in that state of mind. I am not one of them. I do not believe ignorance is bliss. Mama says: Ignorance is just ignorance.

And she’s right.

As per usual.

The truth is, I am so so proud of my brothers. I’m proud of the way they are who they are and they just don’t give a fuck. They wake up in the morning with solid self-understanding. I’m proud of the way they can be true to who they are, and have chosen to walk a more difficult path, but one where they don’t hide themselves. I am proud of them for reaching out to the LBGT community and giving support.

I am proud of my parents for being supportive and tolerant and loving. I am proud of my Mum, who is currently directing a play in Hong Kong called “My big gay Italian wedding” and who is promoting it and tackling important issues about being the mother of Gay sons.

I know that I am still learning tolerance and acceptance from my family, and I know that I will always believe that if you are a good person, then please, love who you love, marry who you want to marry. Be happy, be free. I am sure that I have a long way to go where understanding is concerned, but I am trying to be a supportive force, not a fearful negative one.

Hi my name is Paris and I have two brothers.

23 things I don’t know how to do at the age of 23

I feel that there are certain adult skills that one might have acquired by the time one is 23.
I am sure they vary widely due to people’s individual circumstances, personality, socioeconomic position, culture and of course personal beliefs.
But there are some things that I cannot do, or have not tried, that seem out-of-place in my well-traveled, well-educated life.
And so here they are:

Twenty Three things I don’t know how to do at the age of 23, (and that I probably should considering…)

23. Set the oven
Oh, I’ve turned on the oven before, pre set to 350 degrees, I GET IT, I just don’t know how to execute it properly without destroying everything inside. And also how does the timer work? GAH!

22. Spell ‘Definitely’
So obviously spell check is on here in the post, but I honestly cannot wrap my head around this word. I think I may have a slight form of dyslexia, because I always spell the word “Definitly” or “Definatley”. I was always awful at spelling, I used to get my “b”s and “d”s around the wrong way. It’s kindof weird because I love writing, and I never let spelling get in the way, I kind of just bulldozed over it and made it work however I could.

21. Set a mouse trap
I’ve never really experienced a problem with Vermin (living in high up apartment buildings for most of my life.) Cockroaches I hate and have had to deal with, but mice? Those are pets aren’t they? I know they are. I had two growing up, Bindi and Gemma. Bindi lost an arm to a magpie which swooped past and ate it, and Gemma had a thyroid problem so became huge and fat, and then got a tumor. Both had to be put down, although they lived with their disabilities unhindered for at least a year or two. Oh the sparkling childhood memories. I digress, in our Toronto apartment, we’ve had little mousey friends, and after they ignored my humane trap which catches them in a box (to be released at your convenience) new, masculine roomie put his foot down and set a real trap. The killing kind. Sadly I was alone when I found the result, and turned into an UTTER wimp when I had to touch the limp soft body.

20. Open a bottle of bubbles
Any kind of alcoholic beverage in a glass bottle with a cork that pops off, is immediately handed off to someone else in the room, because I have destroyed too many light fixtures with my inexperience.

19. Sew a hem
I can sew on a button if it drops off (not neatly of course) but anything that requires more skill or patience then that is impossible. My mum is not a great seamstress, but she used to be able to hem my school dress if needs be.

18. Build a website
Even this most basic WordPress blog still confuses me. I have visited other blogs where the layouts are amazing and they have other tabs. Nope. Not me. My brother is the computery/internety one of the family, and I’ll just have to be content with being the Smart, Outgoing, Hilarious, Pretty, Girl one. Sigh.

17. Paint my nails
During the ridiculous Pantomime I did, I had a lot of free time during rehearsals. I mostly read, but once, I brought some nail polish and decided to tidy up my scratched and cracked polish. Much to the horror of some one who actually knows how to do this neatly, I got a lot of red polish on the skin of my fingers. “It’s fine” I told her, “You just wash your hands once it dries and it all comes off.” Apparently striking randomly in the direction of your nails is not the way to paint them, you can actually achieve this neatly, by gently placing the brush with polish on the edge of the nail, and brushing out delicately.

16. Negotiate a Contract
I find it toooooo awkward talking about money, well, that which applies to me. Other people, fine, FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHTS. Me? No. I’ll just take the same small paycheck until I get annoyed and leave.

15. Cook a full Turkey or Chicken
Thankfully for my first Christmas away from home, it was a hodge-podge of religions and traditions, so we just had chicken breasts for lunch. I went to a Thanksgiving dinner hosted by my friend, and her Turkey was so amazing and moist, and the stuffing…ah! Simply awesome. But I just don’t get it. This probably has something to do with my problems with the oven.

14. Use eBay
I set up an account. I browse. I think I even set up a paypal account. But when it comes to stuff I actually want to buy…?! There seem to be too many buttons to click, too many things too fill out. UGH. Too much. I’d rather buy something face to face (oh god now I sound like an old foggie who is afraid of the internet.)

13. File a Tax Return
I have always given my tax returns to somebody else to do (boyfriends, father, accountant I worked for as a personal assistant) but now the date of lodging a Tax Return in Toronto looms, and I’m going to have to bite the bullet and figure it out. In a foreign country. Great.

12. Fill a car up with petrol
This seems just silly, but it is true. I grew up for a number of years with no car and no need for one (in Hong Kong and all) so my parents never asked me to help out with doing this. Also, I miss the days of service (here comes the old foggie Paris) remember when people served? Like at petrol stations they would fill up your car for you.

11. Use an Iron
I have tried, and I have failed. I’m getting better, but I would still not count ironing amongst my skill set.

10. Walk away from the samples people in grocery stores
If I take a free tester, I know that I will be standing there for a good five minutes listening to the sales pitch. I may even pick up the item they are hawking and then sneakily put it down somewhere else. I am a WUSS. That’s why I’ve just had to start declining.

9. Tie a nice pony tail
I remember first learning to tie up my own hair for school very late, like year 6 or even year 7. Why would I need to learn? I always had bob cuts, and when I did have longish hair as a kid, I had a maid and a mother that did french braids and treated me like a real live doll. Even now when I attempt it, it has lumps and bumps and I just think “fuckit” and leave it. It’s the artsy disheveled look ya’know?

8. Use the Automatic Cheque deposit at the ATM
I’ve never really tried – and I prefer to speak to a person direct (that way the cheque clears instantly) but yeah – I should learn how to use that technology though, not just to fight off foggie status, but also, like, come on man. The future.

7. Make a Tiramasu
It is my delightful roommie’s birthday Tomorrow, and after sneakily asking around for her favorite cake flavour to surprise her, have learned that her heart yearns for Tiramasu… If a cake doesn’t come in a box and require, 1 cup water, 1 cup vegetable oil and 2 eggs, then I can’t make it. Sorry. My desert cooking abilities are limited. I am an expert desert eater, just a poor desert maker. (Surely I should pick one meal and try to become a champion in that field, I have always thought I’d like to be good at deserts – everyone loves Nigella after all!)

6. Fix/Replace a Smoke Detector
Luckily I have always lived with those much more capable than myself – so our smoke detectors have remained active, and I, as a result, have not died a death related to smoke inhalation. The only reason I know our current smoke detector works is that I frequently set it off when cooking.

5. Hang a picture
I’m sure I COULD hang a picture, I mean – I logically know the steps involved: find a strongish wall, nail, hammer, TAH-DAH hang your picture. But I haven’t, and as a result, the beautiful frames I got for Christmas remain propped against the base of my wall, waiting to be hung.

4. Fix a flat tire
Are you really so surprised? If I can’t fill a damn car with petrol, how can I be expected to remove bits and fix them? I’ve seen them do it in movies. Looks like it involves a jack to lift up the car and then what? Screw driver? Meh.

3. Make a cup of Coffee
I drink tea, which is as hard as putting a tea bag in some hot water, adding milk, sugar, and stirring. Coffee drinkers seem to have a whole other process going on – that I just don’t get. They grind it, pour water through the ground up beans and a tiny paper sheet? UGH I don’t get it, and I live in fear of someone asking me to make them a cup.

2. Tell the difference between a ‘Good’ Bottle of wine and a Crap one
Yes, I’m afraid wines are wasted on me. If it’s sweet or bubbly, I’ll drink it. I know I like Zinfandel’s and that’s about it. My parents (who love wine) despair of me. My attitude until a year or two ago was: If it gets me drunk and goes down okay, then it’s probably alright. Classy.

1. Drive a Car
Yep, that is probably the number one thing I should be able to do at the age of 23. I have a long list of excuses for why I HAVE NOT got it, including that I went to University in a far away city, and that the legal driving age in Hong Kong is 18…blah blah blah, the truth of the matter is, I should have found a time to do it before now, but I haven’t and so I take to the road as a 23-year-old learner, attempting it on the wrong side of the road. I hope my friends who have offered to help will be patient with me.

And there you have it.

23 things people should probably have learned to do by the age of 23. Am I bothered? Perhaps a little bit.
But I have other experiences and areas of expertise. If you really break it down, I’m not great at Cars, fixing things, cooking, or cleaning, (and some online stuff) so long as I can find people who CAN do these things, then I’ll be alright.

And in return, I’ll write all the witty blogs.

Most definetly definatley definitly

Damnit.