BLITZKRIEG BARGAINING

By LIN ZILONG

Tourists haggling in a Beijing market.

Traveling to Beijing for the first time? Don’t get caught in, out, or up by cultural shocks. Know how things should – and shouldn’t – be done to ensure your trip is a memorable one for all the right reasons.

British pensioners Jim and Brenda were nearing the end of a holiday in the Chinese capital, and it was time to think about gifts for the folks back home. Their bilingual tour guide, Xiao Mei, had thus far been fantastic, as she ferried Jim and Brenda around the city from one sight to another with enthusiasm and efficiency. Everything from cabs to kebabs had gone off without a snag. So, reckoned Jim, a trip to a shopping mall (gouwu zhongxin) should be similarly painless.

Xiao Mei offered to bring the couple along to a mall that practices marketplace haggling so that she might train them up in this ancient Chinese art. But there was one thing Xiao Mei hadn’t bargained for – Jim’s shop-side anxiety.

The three set off for Fuchengmen shopping mall in the heart of Beijing. It’s paradise to a female, but for a male, it is a pretty vivid picture of hell. Mobs of zealous bargain-hunters cram the aisles, where they battle for any commodity that’s legally sold on the planet. Unfussy stalls are everywhere, displaying makeup, clothes, mobile phone accessories, false nails, underwear of both exciting and uninspiring kinds, shoes, toys, wedding paraphernalia…the list is practically infinite.

The stalls are completed by screaming sales assistants trying to lure into their 10sqm patch what seems to be every one of the country’s 1.3 billion consumers. Smiling ladies drag scowling husbands around the floor, using their arms as dog leads. They scuttle from one shop to the next, trying out the wares, and, of course, haggling. Jim almost changed his mind.

Then his arm felt a jolt. Before he realized what was happening, Jim was being hauled in the direction of a souvenir store. The singing vendor raised her sales pitch by a couple of levels upon noticing the pearliness of Jim and Brenda’s skin. As the three entered the shop, Xiao Mei insisted they take careful note of the proceedings. Ignoring the blabbering saleswoman, at least for the time being, Xiao Mei began to sort through the souvenirs until she came across a bronze Buddhist figurine that was to the trained eye mass produced, but might pass as antique to the uninitiated. “Neng kanjia ma,” (can I bargain here?) she inquired. It was a rhetorical question: the only place you’d hear “Bu kanjia” (no bargaining here) in Beijing would be in the up market stalls of Wangfujing. The vendor therefore quickly nodded her agreement. “Duoshao qian,” (how much does it cost) was uttered, and the game was on.

Reckoning that Xiao Mei was dishonest (there are plenty of tour guides who make a fine living out of bringing foreigners to stores and, in cahoots with the vendors, overcharging them for “commission,” but Xiao Mei was not of that ilk), our vendor quoted a figure that sent the guide into hysterics. “Tai gui le,” (too expensive) Xiao Mei exclaimed. So she screamed “pianyi dian’r” (make it cheaper) and countered with an offer one third of that sum. The vendor’s lips twitched as she informed the three that such an offer was impossible, as the product was an authentic heirloom, and could not be sold below cost, and she had kids to feed.

She then rattled off a million other excuses that went far and away beyond Jim and Brenda’s poor comprehension of the Chinese language. In response, Xiao Mei pointed out that the heirloom was not an authentic antique, citing as evidence the fact that it read “Made in China” on its base. To this, our vendor had no answer, but she nevertheless refused to accept Xiao Mei’s offer, which had since been reduced again by half. “Well, what’s your bottom price?” (zuidi duoshao qian) quizzed Xiao Mei.

The woman quoted a price that was to Jim’s mind far more reasonable, but still not low enough for Xiao Mei. She started to examine the product with the eye of a microbiologist, prophesizing that it would disintegrate within a week. Jim glanced at his watch, and was horrified to discover that more than 30 minutes had elapsed since they had encountered the vendor. Still more conversation was exchanged, more holes were picked, more offers were laughed at, until finally, Xiao Mei placed the “antique” back on the shelf and announced that if her bid was not acceptable, then she did not want to buy (bu pianyi wo jiu bu mai).

At this point Jim almost cried out in despair. For the first ten minutes, the conflict was mildly amusing. Then it became tedious and maddening. When it seemed after nigh on forty minutes that no purchase was about to take place, Jim wanted to lash out at something, bargaining lesson or not. With Xiao Mei smiling, Jim frowning, and Brenda looking nonchalant, the three left the store together. Suddenly, our vendor sprinted out of the shop, shouting, “OK, OK, I’ll accept your price.” Xiao Mei sent a knowing wink in the couple’s direction, as she enjoyed the sweet smell of victory. “That’s how you do it,” she said. Amazed, Jim and Brenda stood in silence as the vendor grudgingly stuffed the relic into a bag, while mumbling some indiscernible comments under her breath. One tenth of the original asking price was handed over, and the deal was completed.

Xiao Mei explained that one can only argue for so long, and when it starts to go around in circles, you should simply walk away. Ninety-nine percent of the time, she said, the vendor will follow you out and take the deal. So it was time for Jim to put his just-learned bargaining skills into practice. They decided that the purchase of a Chinese clock would make a good start.

But could he really stand sweating in a shop, bickering with a battle-seasoned Chinese haggler? Not likely. He simply grabbed a Chinese clock that looked slightly appealing, and stuffed it in its box. “Duoshao qian?” he inquired, and typically, was quoted an outrageous figure. Then, following Xiao Mei’s advice almost to the letter, he slashed the price. But the difference was that Jim’s was a knockout blow. He offered less than one tenth of her asking price. When it was swiftly rejected, he paid no attention to her rant of excuses and walked out the door. “Ming ma biao jia!” (the price is on the price tag) screamed our saleswoman, but Jim ignored her. Noticing that this saleswoman had refocused on Xiao Mei, Jim assumed the role of dog walker, and taking her arm, he urged her to leave the shop.

“What are you doing?” Xiao Mei complained. “Weren’t you paying attention? Have you learnt nothing? Have you no patience?” But time did not afford her chance to spout any further criticism, as the seller was quickly on their heels, declaring her surrender. This battle was brutal, and contained none of the verbal tango that the previous encounter had, but it was a swift victory for the visiting side. In less than five minutes, Jim had successfully dispelled the notion that Europeans can’t haggle in China. “Neng baozhuang ma?” (could you wrap it?), Jim said, as he savored the scent of a blitzkrieg bargain.