A Well Kept Man

Interesting adventure...so Alli decided when we first arrived that she needed a hairdryer. Never mind waiting until we actually made it into an apartment to see if there was one already present, Alli needed one immediately. As fortune would have it everywhere we've been has had a suitable hairdryer (apparently there is such a thing as an unsuitable hairdryer but when your hair is rarely longer than 2.54 cm [1 inch for all the Americans reading this] you don't really have use for a hairdryer).

So today I found myself in the position of having to return the unopened hairdryer we purchased two weeks ago at Media Markt. Yes, that's the name of the store I didn't forget the 'e' or add a 'k'. Unrelated, but when you order a Coke here, it's not a Coke, it's a Coca...or Coca light (for the Diet Coke lovers in the house). But back to my story.

So I arrived at Media Markt with my awesome 1800W blow dryer, unopened, with the original receipt wondering how on earth I am going to communicate with the equivalent of a American teenager about how I need to return this because my crazy wife couldn't wait a couple days to see if she even needed the hairdryer. (Have you ever tried to communicate with a teenager, I am sure parents everywhere will roll their eyes when the read this but kids these days, are they capable of forming complete sentences without the need to txt their bff, OMG!)

So I walk up to the Media Markt and there's some sign about Merchandise blah blah blah and I think ok, I have this language thing figured out...this is where returns are supposed to go. Wrong. It was the loading docks. But for 100 CHF (Swiss Francs) I could have gotten some real nice equipment that "accidentally" fell off the truck. Try #2. I go inside the store this time (brilliant idea by the way) to find a counter where they deal with such things as exchanges, returns, refunds, complaints, but mostly just blank stares from the Swiss teenager who can't wait for her shift to be over so she can go watch Laguna Beach or The Hills or whatever the popular tv show dubbed in French that kids watch these days.

After patiently waiting the hired help comes up to me and says "Bonjour, blah blah blah blah blah" (I am so close to learning French I can taste the baguette). So I reply back "Parle-vous anglais?," which is of course the French version of the American question "Do you speak English because in America, we don't feel it necessary to learn anything other than our language and maybe one other, randomly chosen depending on which class the hot girl in homeroom told you she was taking your Freshman year of high school".

I patiently smiled as I figured that she would appreciate my gesture of international participation and reply back in English that of course she knew it because America rules. Sadly, she did not know English.

OH NO! How the heck now am I going to get my 19 CHF back? Alli will surely have me tarred and feathered for such insolence...perhaps I can draw her a picture. Everyone can understand pictures, or maybe I can give her the universal sign for "I'd like to return this" which involves me pointing to the receipt, giving her the hairdryer, speaking a little louder, pointing back at the receipt and her nodding in agreement while giving me back my money...guess what...didn't happen.

Thankfully there was a worldly gentleman in line behind me who volunteered to translate, disaster averted. I calmly explained the situation, he said something to her, then she proceeded to look at me and speak French. Apparently I spoke such perfect French the first time that she figured I could understand and possibly speak French, just not the phrase, "I'd like to return this, I never used this, give me my money back."

After I got the translation through my intermediary, I spoke back to him, and we had our own little mini United Nations party at the returns desk. She gave me a slip which he then informed me I'd need to take to the place where I purchased the hairdryer to get my money back. Um, I don't mean to point out the obvious, but this IS where I bought the hairdryer. Nevertheless, I wouldn't let this sudden turn of events foil my attempt to retrieve my 19 CHF. I went to the exact spot in the store where we found the hairdryer and Voila! there was a clerk who I could give my slip to and surely he would know what to do.

Again, he muttered something to me in French, to which I responded, "Parle-vous anglais?" Figuring I had no other choice except for making ape-like gestures and/or stealing the cash register, I held my breath as he responded "A little."

Clouds lifting, angels singing, the vision of me sleeping on the couch slowly fading away. I explained that I needed to return this hairdryer and that nothing was wrong with it, I just didn't need it because we already had one (apparently the first slip was just to let me take the hairdryer back into the store because hairdryer theft is the number two crime in Switzerland after failing to use the proper fondue fork etiquette). I spared him the agony of telling him about my wife's need for the hairdryer safety net in case our new accommodations lacked a hairdryer and we hadn't enough time to get to the store before they closed to avert a hair drying emergency.

After some nodding on his part and typing into his computer (which knows French by the way, even the keys have all the weird French symbols and the Windows key is replaced by one with a picture of St. Bernard dog - very cool) he produced two slips of paper to be taken to the cash register to get my money back. I thanked him in French (Merci, Au Revoir) and off to the counter I went.

Naturally, wanting to avoid another United Nations conference I walked around the store for a bit until I found someone else carrying a slip of paper similar to mine. I figured I could just stalk them until they left and watch how they get their money back and I would be in the money (pun intended). I quickly found a line with a paper holding Mademoiselle (French for 'my little lady,' if you don't believe me look it up on the internet, Wikipedia is never wrong.)

After watching her go through the motions and seeing that her slip was merely a note to have something delivered to her car in the parking lot, I became a bit worried. It was my turn and the queue behind me was too long to go stalk someone else. I handed her the slips hoping she wouldn't notice that I was incapable of replying to any question she asked me with the exception of whether or not I wanted coffee, tea, or dessert. She looked at the slips, looked at me (probably thinking to herself that she could probably send me down to the loading docks to get my refund knowing that this time that I would just give up and she would have my 19 CHF for a night of Fondue on the unfortunate American), then pointed to the bottom of the form and handed me a pen.

I think she said something but I was on autopilot and figured she thought I was some kind of celebrity from America and she wanted my autograph. Either way, I signed the slip, she gave me 19 CHF back and I was out of that store faster than Superman out of a phone booth. Although the curious thing was that she scribbled out the purchase on my original receipt like it never happened. In America, you usually get a whole new receipt, plus a shiny staple that hooks the new receipt to the old one. I guess the rest of the world has figured out one more way to save the world from excess receipts and staples...if only America would catch up.