Our mission: to return a vacuum cleaner my aunt bought a week earlier because it didn't have a brush attachment. Sounds simple, right? That's what we thought, too, but like many things in China, it wasn't so easy. The ensuing experience still makes us laugh until we cry.
We walk up to the customer service center and explain to an employee that we want to return the vacuum. He nods and tapes up the opened box. A little odd - you would think they would want to make sure the box isn't missing anything - but we figure he knows what he is doing. He then prints out a fapiao, an official receipt used for tax purposes, and hands it to my aunt. My aunt repeats that she wants to return the vacuum. He gives us a puzzled stare. Luckily, another employee who speaks some broken English understands and takes over. Before we know it, we are surrounded by three other employees chattering loudly in Chinese. The woman who initially sold my aunt the vacuum pulls various attachments out of the box, apparently trying to demonstrate that there is nothing missing.
Eventually, we ask to go back to the other vacuum cleaners to show them a picture of the brush attachment we want. The five of us practically run through the store and finally find an adequate replacement vacuum. My aunt shows it to the employees, thinking that we can return the initial vacuum and buy this replacement. One of the employees then rips open the box, shuffles through it, grabs the brush attachment, and starts walking back to the customer service desk. We all follow. She then tries to fit the attachment onto the first vacuum, which is not only a different model, but a completely different brand. It doesn't fit, but she keeps trying to squeeze it onto the hose, the other attachments, and eventually the top of the vacuum where the hose fits in. By this time, I am laughing so hard that I have to walk away, which causes the English-speaking employee to erupt in laughter, too. The others apparently don't find it so amusing.
So then, my aunt asks again if we can return the vacuum and get another. They all shake their heads and say, "No return. The manager doesn't like return." My aunt is a little frustrated by this point and asks to speak with the manager. In a few minutes, a stern woman walks up, and the other employees explain the situation in Chinese. She doesn't speak a word. She just glances over the vacuum for a few seconds before giving us a slight nod and walks away. Our money is refunded.
But we still have to buy another vacuum. So we walk back to the electronics section and are instantly greeted by two enthusiastic employees, one of whom is the woman who sold my aunt the first vacuum. They start pulling all of the vacuums off of the shelves, ripping open the boxes to show us that they have a brush, and pointing out various features of each (all in Chinese, of course). I decide to walk to the next aisle to buy a hair dryer, and sure enough, am rushed by another employee who points to the most expensive dryer they have. I explain, through a combination of English and hand gestures, that I want something smaller (and even more so, less expensive). She grabs another off of the display, plugs it in, and grabs my hand to feel the hot air. She repeats "san," one of the few Chinese words I do know, to explain that it has three different pressure levels. While I would like to look at all of the different models, I feel so rushed to make a purchase that I decide on the one she recommends. She then takes the box off of the shelf and starts walking away. I follow her to a cashier, where I happily make my purchase.
Finally, I meet my aunt, her new vacuum (with brush) in tow, at the front of the store. We look at each other, laugh, and say, "only in China."
