Today I sat on my back porch enjoying the late morning sun, reading the Lipstick Jungle book. A couple characters in the book are having trouble and choose to be juvenile instead of talking with each other about how they feel. So I began wondering why do people have so much trouble communicating with each other?
I’m not talking about communication in the literal sense – in this day and age it is very easy to communicate through telephone, letters, emails, magazines, books, newspapers, television, blogs, and the list goes on. But what about real one-on-one, the other person truly understands what you are saying communication?
A friend of mine went through marriage counselling many years ago and she told me that the counsellor gave her and her husband “tools” for communication. They were supposed to look each other in the eye when they spoke, not interrupt each other, and before they could responded they needed to say something like “What I heard you say was . . .” and repeat what the other person said. By doing this each person would know whether they were heard correctly. But can you imagine going through life doing that? It would turn every conversation into a marathon. And just because you hear what was said doesn’t mean you understand it.
Most people indicate that they have, or have not, listened by their actions. I think anyone with children would know exactly what I mean. I hear my mother’s voice come out of my throat when I find myself saying to one of my daughters, “Now tell me what I just said.” That technique works well if I am trying to create a parrot. I’ve now modified my words to “Did you hear me?” Of course anyone can claim they have heard what you said and even repeat it back when pressed, but that doesn’t mean they were listening.
So how do you know if someone is listening to you or not? I’ve tried the look-them-in-the-eye method, which gives the impression of a receptive person, however I tend to stop talking when I see the glazed over eyes looking beyond me trying to watch the TV or anything else which catches their attention. Most times I just give up. If they are not listening what is the point of talking?
It seems listening is a lost art. I am just as guilty as the next person, but my reasons are not distraction. I find I don’t listen to someone when I am busy or they are just saying something I don’t want to hear. I used to walk away from my ex-husband while he was telling me something as I just had too many things to do and just didn’t have time to sit down and listen to him. I tried to be polite and say things like “Keep talking, I can hear you, I’ve just got to do . . .” or pretend I was Japanese and repeat the words “yes” and “un-huh” over and over to indicate I was interested.
Lately I’ve found communication problems outside my home. Recently I was working with some network and IT personnel to fix problems for one of my computer clients. I thought all three of us were on the same page but their actions told me otherwise. I had to repeat myself so many times that it became frustrating. I even asked if they understood what I was saying, and they became “Japanese” on me! It wasn’t until I started drawing a diagram of exactly what I meant that we came to an understanding and could move forward with the project.
It’s events like these that make me wonder if anyone really listens to people. Have I been going my whole life saying something and assuming people knew what I meant but they haven’t? That’s a scary thought. Am I speaking a different language? Sometimes I think so.
Why do so many people not listen? Are we too busy in our lives to have time to listen to others? Do we feel we already know everything so we don’t need anyone else’s opinions? If so, what’s the point of talking? If there is no one listening then do we still make a sound?
I think it is a basic human nature to talk. We have a compelling need to use words to express ourselves, whether someone cares to hear us or not. The proof is all around us: millions of books, thousands of television shows, and billions of people using the internet to express themselves every day.
So how can we tell if we are understood and does it really matter? For me the proof of understanding comes from action. This could be a verbal response which adds to or contradicts what I have said. Maybe an act that shows me that I was heard. Sometimes inaction indicates understanding.
I think it does matter, as it is when we aren’t understood that problems arise. We don’t live solitary lives (maybe a few people do) and we need others to survive. So that is why I think listening and understanding are important. That doesn’t mean I will always be understood and I understand and accept that, but if you find me walking away from you saying “I’m listening” you might want to save your breath and just shut up.
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
Sunday, 20 May 2007
Girlfriends
I began reading the Lipstick Jungle book I mentioned in a previous post. It took me a while to get into this book as I was turned off by the Sex and the City book by the same author. However, even though this book is still about women, New York and sex, it is written differently. The characters are well defined powerful business women who share their successes and failures. So far (I’m only on chapter 3) the underlining theme of this book is the same as the other one – friendship between women.
There is one line I’ve read that I believe sums this up very well . . . “Her relationship with her girlfriends was invaluable, because it was only with women that you could really be vulnerable – you could ask for a pat on the back, without worrying about being seen as hopelessly insecure.” I think this shows the underlying difference between men and women. We need friends to tell (or in my case, write down) our thoughts and feelings in order to understand ourselves better. We don’t expect empathy, we don’t want advice, we don’t want the other person to solve our problems, we just want to express what is inside. Then we can really deal with the situation – see it for what it is.
I don’t think men get this, at least most men. They try to tell you what to do to fix the problem or tell you what you did wrong or how they would have handled it differently. That is why women (or at least myself) don’t express their inner thoughts and feelings to men easily. It becomes too frustrating because the man tries to be the “hero.” We don’t need someone to rescue us, we just need someone to really listen so we can rescue ourselves. My girlfriends are the most valuable people in my life, even though many of them are thousands of miles away. I know that there is an instant bond when we talk, whether it has been a few days, months or years. There is a true understanding among women.
It is good to read about powerful women taking control of their lives and being status figures. The characters of this book are very fascinating with their high-powered jobs and stressful lives. Even though these are just fictitious women I admire their audacity to go after what they want, but I don’t share their drive. One of the characters is a fashion designer who’s livelihood depends on what the critics think of her seasonal collection. I could never do that because I have always had no concern for what other people think of me.
I have felt from a young age that the only opinion of me that matters is my own. Maybe that’s because I have a high self-esteem, maybe I just figured out life at an early age, or maybe I just didn’t like the opinions of others so I established my own. I don’t know why, but I feel that you should only be concerned about what you think of yourself. I strive to do things to please myself not others. That isn’t to say that I am selfish and not a giving person – just the opposite. I feel giving of myself is a very worthwhile thing – not because of what people think about me but because of how I feel. So I would have to agree that I am selfish, but in a good way.
The way I see things, it doesn’t matter what others think of me as people come and go but at the end of the day you are left with only yourself. If you don’t love and respect yourself then you can’t do the same for others and you certainly can’t expect anyone else to feel the same about you. I remind myself daily that the only constant thing in the universe is change. That may sound crazy, but just think about it. Every second of the day brings change, sometimes big and sometimes small, but one moment is never the same as another.
I take comfort in knowing that, especially in sad times. When the world gets me down I remember that it is only for a moment in time and that each second brings about something different. I like change and feel bored and frustrated if there isn’t something new and challenging in my life. I can’t handle the monotonous daily grind that some people call their lives. That’s not to say I need something exciting happening every day. Sometimes simply sitting on my back porch watching the birds is enough excitement for me. Admiring the simple things is just as important as experiencing the big things in life.
Take time to smell the roses, respect and love yourself, and talk with your girlfriends. Remember, a good friend is like a good bra – hard to find, supportive, comfortable, lifts you up, never lets you down or leaves you hanging and is always close to your heart!
There is one line I’ve read that I believe sums this up very well . . . “Her relationship with her girlfriends was invaluable, because it was only with women that you could really be vulnerable – you could ask for a pat on the back, without worrying about being seen as hopelessly insecure.” I think this shows the underlying difference between men and women. We need friends to tell (or in my case, write down) our thoughts and feelings in order to understand ourselves better. We don’t expect empathy, we don’t want advice, we don’t want the other person to solve our problems, we just want to express what is inside. Then we can really deal with the situation – see it for what it is.
I don’t think men get this, at least most men. They try to tell you what to do to fix the problem or tell you what you did wrong or how they would have handled it differently. That is why women (or at least myself) don’t express their inner thoughts and feelings to men easily. It becomes too frustrating because the man tries to be the “hero.” We don’t need someone to rescue us, we just need someone to really listen so we can rescue ourselves. My girlfriends are the most valuable people in my life, even though many of them are thousands of miles away. I know that there is an instant bond when we talk, whether it has been a few days, months or years. There is a true understanding among women.
It is good to read about powerful women taking control of their lives and being status figures. The characters of this book are very fascinating with their high-powered jobs and stressful lives. Even though these are just fictitious women I admire their audacity to go after what they want, but I don’t share their drive. One of the characters is a fashion designer who’s livelihood depends on what the critics think of her seasonal collection. I could never do that because I have always had no concern for what other people think of me.
I have felt from a young age that the only opinion of me that matters is my own. Maybe that’s because I have a high self-esteem, maybe I just figured out life at an early age, or maybe I just didn’t like the opinions of others so I established my own. I don’t know why, but I feel that you should only be concerned about what you think of yourself. I strive to do things to please myself not others. That isn’t to say that I am selfish and not a giving person – just the opposite. I feel giving of myself is a very worthwhile thing – not because of what people think about me but because of how I feel. So I would have to agree that I am selfish, but in a good way.
The way I see things, it doesn’t matter what others think of me as people come and go but at the end of the day you are left with only yourself. If you don’t love and respect yourself then you can’t do the same for others and you certainly can’t expect anyone else to feel the same about you. I remind myself daily that the only constant thing in the universe is change. That may sound crazy, but just think about it. Every second of the day brings change, sometimes big and sometimes small, but one moment is never the same as another.
I take comfort in knowing that, especially in sad times. When the world gets me down I remember that it is only for a moment in time and that each second brings about something different. I like change and feel bored and frustrated if there isn’t something new and challenging in my life. I can’t handle the monotonous daily grind that some people call their lives. That’s not to say I need something exciting happening every day. Sometimes simply sitting on my back porch watching the birds is enough excitement for me. Admiring the simple things is just as important as experiencing the big things in life.
Take time to smell the roses, respect and love yourself, and talk with your girlfriends. Remember, a good friend is like a good bra – hard to find, supportive, comfortable, lifts you up, never lets you down or leaves you hanging and is always close to your heart!
Saturday, 12 May 2007
Tuesday, 8 May 2007
Tests – Do they really tell you anything about yourself?
The other day I stumbled across an IQ test online – some link from another website. Anyway, I was curious to see what the results would be. Nothing surprising – I have an above average IQ. But who says so? How can they really determine a person's intelligence from a few random questions? And what does it matter? It seems like a judgement call to me. Does it really make me smarter (or more superior) to the next guy just because they asked me questions which I happened to know the answer?
I've watched the Who Wants to be a Millionaire show a few times and sometimes I wonder where they get the questions and more so where do they get some of those contestants? I find I struggle with what appears to be easy questions for some and the ones I find easy many people use up all their lifelines on. I think what makes one person "smarter" than the next is experience. You could spend your whole life with your nose in books and still not really know anything.
I'm one of those people who has always done well at school – I got top marks and was the valedictorian at my college graduation – but I wouldn't consider myself smarter than the next guy. However I do think I have more understanding than most because of my life experiences. When I finished high school I decided not to go to University, mainly because I knew my family couldn't afford it and because I figured that in the time it would take me to get a University degree I could work my way up to the same level in a business. What compelled me to go back to school at the age that most people were graduating was the desire for new experiences.
I’d become bored with my mundane existence. Working 8 hours a day just to make it to the weekend and then starting all over again. Where’s the fun and challenge in that? I can’t handle the ordinary and predictable. Although when life gets busy and crazy I do long for something more manageable.
Now that I am a mother I know that my life will never be ordinary or predictable again. I feel that it’s the people in your life that make you smarter. Facing challenges and having new experiences is what sets us apart from each other. The differences are things we should cherish and embrace. Tests seem to have an underlying theme – trying to get people to be the same. I don’t believe many people would be satisfied with their results. It is a comparison of you to a standard set by an establishment. And who sets these standards? Those that think they are smarter than you.
I don’t agree with the results of these tests but they do make for a good laugh. Check them out . . . if you can handle the results. http://web.tickle.com/tests/
I've watched the Who Wants to be a Millionaire show a few times and sometimes I wonder where they get the questions and more so where do they get some of those contestants? I find I struggle with what appears to be easy questions for some and the ones I find easy many people use up all their lifelines on. I think what makes one person "smarter" than the next is experience. You could spend your whole life with your nose in books and still not really know anything.
I'm one of those people who has always done well at school – I got top marks and was the valedictorian at my college graduation – but I wouldn't consider myself smarter than the next guy. However I do think I have more understanding than most because of my life experiences. When I finished high school I decided not to go to University, mainly because I knew my family couldn't afford it and because I figured that in the time it would take me to get a University degree I could work my way up to the same level in a business. What compelled me to go back to school at the age that most people were graduating was the desire for new experiences.
I’d become bored with my mundane existence. Working 8 hours a day just to make it to the weekend and then starting all over again. Where’s the fun and challenge in that? I can’t handle the ordinary and predictable. Although when life gets busy and crazy I do long for something more manageable.
Now that I am a mother I know that my life will never be ordinary or predictable again. I feel that it’s the people in your life that make you smarter. Facing challenges and having new experiences is what sets us apart from each other. The differences are things we should cherish and embrace. Tests seem to have an underlying theme – trying to get people to be the same. I don’t believe many people would be satisfied with their results. It is a comparison of you to a standard set by an establishment. And who sets these standards? Those that think they are smarter than you.
I don’t agree with the results of these tests but they do make for a good laugh. Check them out . . . if you can handle the results. http://web.tickle.com/tests/
Monday, 7 May 2007
Friendship
I’ve just finished reading the book Sex and the City. I’ve been meaning to read this book for a long time as I loved the TV series, however I can’t say the same for the book. I almost put the book down before I had finished the first chapter as I didn’t like the writing style. It seemed very disjointed. I persevered as I thought it might get better, but it didn’t. I was surprised as I’ve heard a lot of rave reviews about Candace Bushnell’s books so I thought I would like it.
The book was mainly about women in their 30s trying to find a husband in New York. They spent most of their time spending money, drinking, doing drugs and doing men. It seemed pointless and depressing to me. Maybe I didn’t like it because I couldn’t relate to the characters. In my 30s I was married with children. I struggled with my identity as a mother alone in a foreign country. Now, in my 40s, I have entered a new phase of my life as a single mother in what is no longer a foreign country to me. I feel much more comfortable with my life now. I don’t know why, but from a young age I knew I would be a single mother. I guess I didn’t think I would find a man that would be my equal whom I would want to spend the rest of my life with, so I could only see myself as a single mother.
What I liked about the TV series, which does not show up in the book, was the closeness of the friendship between the four main characters. I wasn’t interested in their glamorous lifestyle or the many men they slept with. What made me interested was watching the friendships develop. I wish I had that same closeness with the friends in my life now. I find it hard to develop such friendships, maybe because I am too honest and don’t play the mind games that so many people play. Many times I don’t allow people to really get to know me as I don’t feel they want to.
I do have some “old” friends who I cherish, however it is difficult as they live in other countries. The internet makes it easier for us to keep in touch, but it’s not the same as spending time with someone. I blame myself for not having close friends like those portrayed by Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha. When I was 18 I moved to Hawaii and away from the friends I had made at school. I continued to move every few years. Many of those friendships fell by the wayside due to lack of contact. Fortunately I have a couple friends who have forgiven my lack of communication (and I theirs) over the years and we still keep in touch. My best friend and I have known each other since we were 9 years old. We have been through a lot in our lives, tough times and good.
I think that’s what makes a good friend – someone who stands by you no matter what. Most people find out who their friends really are when things go wrong in their lives. I discovered this a few years ago when I separated from my husband. I sent an email out to friends and family and was pleasantly surprised at all the messages of support I received. Some of those people hadn’t contacted me in years, but in my “time of need” they let me know they cared. That is what real friendship is about – accepting a person for who they are and not trying to make them fit into what you want or need in your life.
I now have Candace Bushnell’s Lipstick Jungle which I will attempt next. However if it reads like Sex and the City I may not make it through the first chapter. I’ll let you know.
The book was mainly about women in their 30s trying to find a husband in New York. They spent most of their time spending money, drinking, doing drugs and doing men. It seemed pointless and depressing to me. Maybe I didn’t like it because I couldn’t relate to the characters. In my 30s I was married with children. I struggled with my identity as a mother alone in a foreign country. Now, in my 40s, I have entered a new phase of my life as a single mother in what is no longer a foreign country to me. I feel much more comfortable with my life now. I don’t know why, but from a young age I knew I would be a single mother. I guess I didn’t think I would find a man that would be my equal whom I would want to spend the rest of my life with, so I could only see myself as a single mother.
What I liked about the TV series, which does not show up in the book, was the closeness of the friendship between the four main characters. I wasn’t interested in their glamorous lifestyle or the many men they slept with. What made me interested was watching the friendships develop. I wish I had that same closeness with the friends in my life now. I find it hard to develop such friendships, maybe because I am too honest and don’t play the mind games that so many people play. Many times I don’t allow people to really get to know me as I don’t feel they want to.
I do have some “old” friends who I cherish, however it is difficult as they live in other countries. The internet makes it easier for us to keep in touch, but it’s not the same as spending time with someone. I blame myself for not having close friends like those portrayed by Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha. When I was 18 I moved to Hawaii and away from the friends I had made at school. I continued to move every few years. Many of those friendships fell by the wayside due to lack of contact. Fortunately I have a couple friends who have forgiven my lack of communication (and I theirs) over the years and we still keep in touch. My best friend and I have known each other since we were 9 years old. We have been through a lot in our lives, tough times and good.
I think that’s what makes a good friend – someone who stands by you no matter what. Most people find out who their friends really are when things go wrong in their lives. I discovered this a few years ago when I separated from my husband. I sent an email out to friends and family and was pleasantly surprised at all the messages of support I received. Some of those people hadn’t contacted me in years, but in my “time of need” they let me know they cared. That is what real friendship is about – accepting a person for who they are and not trying to make them fit into what you want or need in your life.
I now have Candace Bushnell’s Lipstick Jungle which I will attempt next. However if it reads like Sex and the City I may not make it through the first chapter. I’ll let you know.
Saturday, 5 May 2007
The Modern-Day 'Birds and the Bees'
A little boy goes to his father and asks "Daddy, how was I born?" The father answers: "Well son, I guess one day you will need to find out anyway! Your Mom and I first got together in a chat room on Yahoo. Then I set up a date via e-mail with your Mom and we met at a cyber-cafe. We sneaked into a secluded room, where your mother agreed to a download from my hard drive. As soon as I was ready to upload, we discovered that neither one of us had used a firewall, and since it was too late to hit the delete button, nine months later a little Pop-Up appeared that said:
You've Got Male!
You've Got Male!
Thursday, 3 May 2007
Mystery Shopping
Today I did five Mystery Shops. I’ve been in this business for four years now, and I first started as a way to have some extra income during my marriage. Now I don’t need the money as much and do it more for the entertainment. I like playing the role of a “customer” and making up stories as to why I want to buy a lawnmower or change my mobile phone provider. I am a people watcher at heart. I could sit for hours in a café and just watch the world go past, making up stories in my head for what might be going on in the lives of the strangers I see walk by. So Mystery Shopping allows me to act out the fantasy of someone who has disposable income.
Today I thought about the products and the people who buy them. My last two Mystery Shops were for items I could never justify buying simply because of the cost. And I wondered, why do people pay such high prices for things they don’t need?
At one store I had to try on a few business suits, pretending I worked in a corporate office. To look the part I wore the only black suit I have which is several years old (from when I was a Tupperware manager). I was a bit embarrassed to see how out-dated my attire was, but it made for a good cover story.
I tried on a couple suits and was pleasantly surprised that I fit a size 8 slack (for my American readers that is equivalent to a size 2, I believe). The odd thing was the size 10 (US4) jacket was rather tight around my shoulders. I always thought the hips got bigger after having children, not the shoulders! Unfortunately the first outfit I liked didn’t look as nice on me as it did on the headless manikin.
Before I tried the clothes on I instinctively looked at the price tag. I knew I wasn’t going to buy anything so price didn’t matter, but old habits die hard. I was amazed that the cheapest pants cost $100 and the jackets were $150 and upwards. Now to some people that may sound reasonable for a business suit, but I don’t think I spend that much on clothes in a year! I know there are people who spend thousands of dollars on designer suits, but I just don’t get it. Does a $2,000 suit fit any better than a $200 one or even a $50 suit in the same style? I know it all comes down to how it feels – not the way the suit feels on but the way the suit makes you feel about yourself. I did like the way one of the suits looked on me and the style was very flattering, but I would feel guilty every time I wore it if I had paid that much.
I know I am probably in the minority of shoppers to think those prices are outrageous. However even if I had the money to spend I don’t think I could do it. Material things just aren’t that important to me. It’s all about the packaging, not just products but the way people package themselves. I’ve never liked overly and ambiguously packaged products and I feel the same about people. It is what’s inside the package that ultimately counts. That’s what you will be dealing with, be it a product or a person.
The next shop I went to was a pharmacy. I had to pretend to be interested in a Christian Dior product. I felt a bit foolish as I wasn’t sure what a Christian Dior product was . . . okay you can stop laughing at me now! So I casually walked around the shop to try and spot something with the CD name on it. I saw a photo of Sharon Stone’s face and the name Christian Dior splattered across the bottom. There was no product on the picture, but it was in front of a display of bottles.
I curiously picked up one container and turned it all around to try and figure out what it was. There was a brand name on it along with some subtitle, as it were, but I still didn’t know what it was. I assumed from the photo of Sharon Stone that it must be some sort of face cream or cleanser. Fortunately the saleslady saw me and came over to help – my Mystery Shop had begun. She told me a bit about the product and that it would make my fine lines and blemished ultimately disappear. Sounded good to me! It’s supposed to make me look at least 20 years younger. But then my package wouldn’t reflect the 41 year old inside! Is that what women want? To display themselves as different from whom they really are? Does it really matter how we look? I wondered if women buy this product because they want it or because their partner thinks they should look younger or better.
After I politely listened to the explanation about the product and even let the saleslady put a sample on the back of my hand so I could “feel how soft it was” (I wouldn’t expect a liquid to feel hard, but I was there to observe not to criticise), I asked the price. I knew it would be expensive as there were no prices on any of the boxes or on the display. A sure sign that the product costs far more than most people are willing to pay. I think the motivation behind not displaying a price is that the salesperson gets people to try a sample and convince them of the value for money before they shock them with the cost. And shocked I was, although for the purposes of the Mystery Shop I had to pretend that I would pay that outrageous price.
How much was it, you say? Well I was told 228 for the one product. I noticed the saleslady conveniently left out the word “dollars” when quoting the price. Of course I would also need a night-time cream which was about the same price. Then there was the eye cream which I had not sampled that cost over $100. All up it would cost over $500 for this face treatment. And the good news was the bottles of product would last about five months!
After I left the store and regained my composure, I got to thinking why someone would spend over $1,000 a year for some facial cream. What ingredient is in this stuff that justifies charging so much money? Are people simply paying for a brand name? I then had a look at the little information page which came in the free samples I was given. Yes, I accepted free samples. I think I will save them for a time when I want to look extra special. Although I don’t know how long a 3 ml tube with last or if it will be enough to make a difference?
Anyway, the information sheet (which was written in 9 languages) had three large paragraphs explaining, I think, what the product was. Although I am not too convinced that a statement like “This revitalizing botanical extract has the capacity to reinforce the effectiveness of the corrective ingredients with which it is combined” means anything. There were large, scientific (and made-up I believe) words used throughout the sheet.
I then discovered how they can justify the high price. It seems that the vital ingredient in this product is “a rare plant extract from a primitive plant called Longoza, which grows only in Madagascar.” Now that is what the salesperson should have said to explain why it is so expensive. Destroying a plant in Madagascar is certainly worth my $500! I would think that in this day and age a man-made ingredient could be used, or even better, create the ideal growing conditions for the plant in the factory. That way the rainforests are saved and the price could be reduced. Because, surely, if this product does everything they say it can then all the women of the world would be lining up to buy it. Or would we?
Today I thought about the products and the people who buy them. My last two Mystery Shops were for items I could never justify buying simply because of the cost. And I wondered, why do people pay such high prices for things they don’t need?
At one store I had to try on a few business suits, pretending I worked in a corporate office. To look the part I wore the only black suit I have which is several years old (from when I was a Tupperware manager). I was a bit embarrassed to see how out-dated my attire was, but it made for a good cover story.
I tried on a couple suits and was pleasantly surprised that I fit a size 8 slack (for my American readers that is equivalent to a size 2, I believe). The odd thing was the size 10 (US4) jacket was rather tight around my shoulders. I always thought the hips got bigger after having children, not the shoulders! Unfortunately the first outfit I liked didn’t look as nice on me as it did on the headless manikin.
Before I tried the clothes on I instinctively looked at the price tag. I knew I wasn’t going to buy anything so price didn’t matter, but old habits die hard. I was amazed that the cheapest pants cost $100 and the jackets were $150 and upwards. Now to some people that may sound reasonable for a business suit, but I don’t think I spend that much on clothes in a year! I know there are people who spend thousands of dollars on designer suits, but I just don’t get it. Does a $2,000 suit fit any better than a $200 one or even a $50 suit in the same style? I know it all comes down to how it feels – not the way the suit feels on but the way the suit makes you feel about yourself. I did like the way one of the suits looked on me and the style was very flattering, but I would feel guilty every time I wore it if I had paid that much.
I know I am probably in the minority of shoppers to think those prices are outrageous. However even if I had the money to spend I don’t think I could do it. Material things just aren’t that important to me. It’s all about the packaging, not just products but the way people package themselves. I’ve never liked overly and ambiguously packaged products and I feel the same about people. It is what’s inside the package that ultimately counts. That’s what you will be dealing with, be it a product or a person.
The next shop I went to was a pharmacy. I had to pretend to be interested in a Christian Dior product. I felt a bit foolish as I wasn’t sure what a Christian Dior product was . . . okay you can stop laughing at me now! So I casually walked around the shop to try and spot something with the CD name on it. I saw a photo of Sharon Stone’s face and the name Christian Dior splattered across the bottom. There was no product on the picture, but it was in front of a display of bottles.
I curiously picked up one container and turned it all around to try and figure out what it was. There was a brand name on it along with some subtitle, as it were, but I still didn’t know what it was. I assumed from the photo of Sharon Stone that it must be some sort of face cream or cleanser. Fortunately the saleslady saw me and came over to help – my Mystery Shop had begun. She told me a bit about the product and that it would make my fine lines and blemished ultimately disappear. Sounded good to me! It’s supposed to make me look at least 20 years younger. But then my package wouldn’t reflect the 41 year old inside! Is that what women want? To display themselves as different from whom they really are? Does it really matter how we look? I wondered if women buy this product because they want it or because their partner thinks they should look younger or better.
After I politely listened to the explanation about the product and even let the saleslady put a sample on the back of my hand so I could “feel how soft it was” (I wouldn’t expect a liquid to feel hard, but I was there to observe not to criticise), I asked the price. I knew it would be expensive as there were no prices on any of the boxes or on the display. A sure sign that the product costs far more than most people are willing to pay. I think the motivation behind not displaying a price is that the salesperson gets people to try a sample and convince them of the value for money before they shock them with the cost. And shocked I was, although for the purposes of the Mystery Shop I had to pretend that I would pay that outrageous price.
How much was it, you say? Well I was told 228 for the one product. I noticed the saleslady conveniently left out the word “dollars” when quoting the price. Of course I would also need a night-time cream which was about the same price. Then there was the eye cream which I had not sampled that cost over $100. All up it would cost over $500 for this face treatment. And the good news was the bottles of product would last about five months!
After I left the store and regained my composure, I got to thinking why someone would spend over $1,000 a year for some facial cream. What ingredient is in this stuff that justifies charging so much money? Are people simply paying for a brand name? I then had a look at the little information page which came in the free samples I was given. Yes, I accepted free samples. I think I will save them for a time when I want to look extra special. Although I don’t know how long a 3 ml tube with last or if it will be enough to make a difference?
Anyway, the information sheet (which was written in 9 languages) had three large paragraphs explaining, I think, what the product was. Although I am not too convinced that a statement like “This revitalizing botanical extract has the capacity to reinforce the effectiveness of the corrective ingredients with which it is combined” means anything. There were large, scientific (and made-up I believe) words used throughout the sheet.
I then discovered how they can justify the high price. It seems that the vital ingredient in this product is “a rare plant extract from a primitive plant called Longoza, which grows only in Madagascar.” Now that is what the salesperson should have said to explain why it is so expensive. Destroying a plant in Madagascar is certainly worth my $500! I would think that in this day and age a man-made ingredient could be used, or even better, create the ideal growing conditions for the plant in the factory. That way the rainforests are saved and the price could be reduced. Because, surely, if this product does everything they say it can then all the women of the world would be lining up to buy it. Or would we?
Tuesday, 1 May 2007
Why there is no manual for being a parent
About 2AM this morning I heard a faint cry for help coming from my daughters’ bedroom. I stumbled in there in the dark and asked what was wrong, thinking she had a nightmare or fell out of bed. Her reply was “I threw up.” I calmly asked where, and she said “In my hands.” So then I turned on the lights to discover that her hands had not contained the mess. Why do children always throw up in bed at night on their pillows? Pillows are the hardest things to wash and the smell never goes away!
I then had the daunting task of cleaning up the mess. It was made more difficult by the fact my daughter was on the opposite side of the bed which is a top bunk. If you have ever had the privilege of making a bunk bed you will appreciate the difficultly I faced when trying to remove the bottom sheet without spilling any of the mess on the floor or her sleeping sister below.
My youngest awoke in the midst of the mayhem and I quickly told her it was the middle of the night and she should go back to sleep. To my pleasant surprise she did! I just wish she was so obedient during the day.
As I was cleaning up the mess I thought, no wonder there is no instruction manual for being a parent. Who, in their right mind, would ever take on such a task if they knew everything they were in for? Fortunately I had managed to have a couple hours sleep before being woken to this disgusting task. In fact, I was partially awake when the call for help came. You know, when you are dreaming and just awake enough to participate in your dream. No, I was not having that type of dream. If I was then I would have been very cranky when I woke up!
As I rinsed the sheets and pillows in the bath, I got to think that maybe I should write an instruction manual for parents. Not a nice pleasant or scientific one, but a true to life, warts and all, type of book. I could have “do’s” and “don’ts” and tips in the manual. Maybe even a quick reference page for those emergencies, like what to do when your daughter pushes a cotton swab too far into her ear. There could be a section for how to stay calm or overcome anger (as if I know how to do either).
I read a book during my first pregnancy (I don’t recall the name) which told it like it was. No pleasantries about being pregnant. The author (a woman of course) wrote down everything that women go through in a seriously funny way. I think parents need something like that. Maybe that type of book already exists. I’ll have to check the library to see, however I think I might be able to write something. How’s the title The Joys of Being a Parent sound?
I then had the daunting task of cleaning up the mess. It was made more difficult by the fact my daughter was on the opposite side of the bed which is a top bunk. If you have ever had the privilege of making a bunk bed you will appreciate the difficultly I faced when trying to remove the bottom sheet without spilling any of the mess on the floor or her sleeping sister below.
My youngest awoke in the midst of the mayhem and I quickly told her it was the middle of the night and she should go back to sleep. To my pleasant surprise she did! I just wish she was so obedient during the day.
As I was cleaning up the mess I thought, no wonder there is no instruction manual for being a parent. Who, in their right mind, would ever take on such a task if they knew everything they were in for? Fortunately I had managed to have a couple hours sleep before being woken to this disgusting task. In fact, I was partially awake when the call for help came. You know, when you are dreaming and just awake enough to participate in your dream. No, I was not having that type of dream. If I was then I would have been very cranky when I woke up!
As I rinsed the sheets and pillows in the bath, I got to think that maybe I should write an instruction manual for parents. Not a nice pleasant or scientific one, but a true to life, warts and all, type of book. I could have “do’s” and “don’ts” and tips in the manual. Maybe even a quick reference page for those emergencies, like what to do when your daughter pushes a cotton swab too far into her ear. There could be a section for how to stay calm or overcome anger (as if I know how to do either).
I read a book during my first pregnancy (I don’t recall the name) which told it like it was. No pleasantries about being pregnant. The author (a woman of course) wrote down everything that women go through in a seriously funny way. I think parents need something like that. Maybe that type of book already exists. I’ll have to check the library to see, however I think I might be able to write something. How’s the title The Joys of Being a Parent sound?
World Famous in New Zealand
I don't usually read the local paper, as I am too busy with my life to pay attention to what is happening around me. However a friend told me this morning that my picture was in the Franklin County News, so I had to have a look. This is the second time my family has been in a newspaper this year. I was pleasantly surprised to find I am young again!
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