Face it, whenever we go shopping (on Orchard Road, Singapore) we have flyers and pamphlets thrust in our face or our hands on an almost monotonous basis.
As a general rule I accept the pamphlet because I imagine that handing them out is an incredibly boring job that doesn’t pay well, so accepting the pamphlet, with a thank you, is just my way of showing these people the respect they deserve.
But, the other day I accepted one, said thank you, walked on, with my daughter, then halted mid step.
“Vaginitis!” I looked at my daughter, horrified. “She just gave me a brochure for vaginitis!”
“What’s that?” my daughter asked.
“Vaginal infection!” I replied.
“Oh,” she said.
“Was I walking funny?” I asked her. “Do I look like I have some horrible vaginal infection?”
My daughter shrugged.
We continued with our mother and daughter clothes shopping expedition—and I paid particular attention to the way I walked.
I was too embarrassed to walk back to the lady, return the brochure and say ‘no thanks, I’m fine, but so sweet of you to be concerned about the state of my vaginal health.”
I mean, come on, it must surely be the most embarrassing pamphlet in the world to have to give out, right up there with pamphlets on sexual dysfunction and impotence—but I suppose those pamphlets are due to be issued next week.
I couldn’t help but wonder if she selected who to give the brochure to. Did she stand there trying to imagine, by a woman’s walk, or the look on her face, whether she might be in dire need of the vital information within the pamphlet? Or did she just try to give them to every woman who passed by?
My daughter said “At least she didn’t give you one on weight loss,” and I swear she tried so hard not to laugh. We had already discovered, on this shopping expedition, that on the Singapore measurement scale my rear end was an XXXL—that’s why I buy trousers in New Zealand where I am a size twelve, thank you very much.
The next day, out shopping for computer parts with my teenage son, we were handed a flyer on learning to speak and write English. I paused, mid step, and looked at my son. “You know,” I said to him, “we’re clearly expats, clearly from some kind of Western country, don’t they think that, just maybe, there is a damn good chance that we already do speak English?”
Perhaps I should have edited it, corrected the grammar and handed it back!
What I don’t understand is the regularity with which we have these ‘speak and read English’ pamphlets thrust at us. Did they not hear us speaking as we approached them, did they not realise we were speaking English, did the polite ‘thank you’ as I accepted the brochure not imply, on some remote level, that I already speak English! Then again, I don’t suppose they spoke English themselves.
Handing out pamphlets is a thankless job, and often those that are handed out at the bottom or an escalator lie strewn across the floor at the top of the escalator—to the point where I often want to make the offer, “Look, to save yourself standing here all day, how about I take half the pile, go up to the top there and just throw them over the ground, because we both know they’re going to end up there anyway,”…but then again, they would probably just stare at me, blankly, and hand me a ‘speak and write English brochure’.
Have a good day and Thank You again Keep Smilin' !
Tracey
Brochure-itis looms everywhere. You nailed the issue with "we have flyers and pamphlets thrust in our face or our hands on an almost monotonous basis."
It's just a job and they probably don't read them anymore than we do. You'd think the company's would get a clue!
Thanks for the laugh. I'll watch how I walk all day.
Cynthia