So-Called “sales” in Austrian stores

Do you know what the Manufacturer Suggested Retail Price (MSRP) is?  I hope so, but if not, it’s the imaginary, wishful thinking value for which a manufacturer says a product could probably be sold… ideally, like without any recessions and Euro crises and such.

Here’s what happens all the time here in Austria (and maybe throughout Europe, who knows) – Furniture store x, for example, has a couch.  The price for that couch is, say, 1000 Euro.  This is what you have to pay to get the couch.  This has been the price since the couch arrived in the store.  Above the couch, hanging from the ceiling, is a sign that says “-34%” which makes you think it is on sale.  But, no… the price is already 34% less than the MSRP.  Now you get a leaflet advertisement in the mail that says “up to 40% off all brand X furniture all next week.” So you go to the store, thinking that this is a sale of up to 40% off the price they have listed all year – why else would there be a time limitation, right?  But, no… the price is 1000 Euro and, see the sign, sir?  It is 34% off already, so what more do you want?

What I want, dickhead, is a real sale where the price you had posted all year is the price you take the sale percentage from!

 

Condiment choices that freak me out – Ketchup on pizza

There are some strange condiment choices out in the world.  Austrians (and presumeably other Europeans) enjoy putting things like corn, tuna, whole olives with pitts, eggs, and artichokes on their pizzas.  On one of my first visits to Bosnia, though, I was asked if I want ketchup on my pizza.  First, I thought they must be asking if I want more pizza sauce which would have been understandable.  Then, I saw the massive ketchup squeeze bottle go to town on some other guy’s pizza.  When I said no, they were even a bit confused as to why I would NOT want ketchup.  Trying to convince me, they even said that it was at no extra cost.

This is just a normal ingredient to the pizza experience for them. When the in-laws recently visited me at my home in Vienna, I bought some American frozen pizzas, added extra stuff on top to make them even better, baked them up and served them for dinner on a rare occasion of calorie amnesia.  What was the first question?

“Where’s the ketchup?”

Any other strange condiment choices you’ve noticed?

 

 

 

Shopping in Bosnia

Ever had the “pleasure” of being hounded by the shop vultures who are so hungry for a sale that they can’t just leave you alone?  Try dressing like an American and shopping in a poor country like Bosnia and multiply that by infinity minus one.

Before you even go in, take a look at the signs in the windows claiming some special sale just happens to be going on at the moment.  Notice the dust?  Yes, they’ve been hosting the same “sales” since the place opened up.  Every day is clearance day.

Now step inside and be ready for not one, not two, but a hoard of staff willing to help you spend a little cash.  I always wonder how an empty store manages to hire so many people and my wife just tells me they probably don’t earn anything other than a small commission – and they are happy for even that.  God bless them and I hate to complain since I know they are just trying to get by, but COME ON!  Give a guy some space to breath a bit and think about actually buying something.  Sorry, but I usually just leave if I get hounded.  It’s more fun to go and eat a huge pile of cevapcici for a couple of dollars.

Tired of Shopping? Forget it and go eat!

 

 

Community Salad

Community everything - Which fork was mine again?

Whenever visiting my in-laws in Bosnia we spend a large amount of time at the table eating.  My mother in law especially likes to test the limits of my stomach and gets visibly upset when I taper off and claim to be too full for more.  Then she brings something sweet anyway and says men are supposed to eat big.  Yes, a little Bosnian grandmother regularly challenges my manhood/sexuality in order to get me to eat more.

One thing that always worries/disturbs me is the community salad.  Rather than individual bowls of whatever salad happens to be served, the big bowl just goes to the middle of the table and forks/spoons can dive in from all angles.  Mouth to bowl and back again between bites of whatever else is reserved for them on their plates.

Being the strange American, I tend to get a few scoops right away and put it on my plate.  I know it’s family, but I just can’t adapt to this kind of sharing.

 

Who am I?

Fake name and fake e-mail account so if I write something embarassing it doesn’t come back to haunt me some day.
I’m an American living in Vienna, Austria “enjoying” all the fun of expat life and living the multicultural lifestyle. Every now and then, I feel the need to write about some of those multicultural experiences so I made this blog. I’m pretty sure that my lack of marketing skills will make this one of the least-read blogs of all time, but that at least will give me the liberty to write whatever I want.
Relax.
Don’t Panic.
Pretend you are living the dream.