Too clever by half?

BARGAINING IS a skill honed to perfection in Chennai by my late grandmother, who was a master at it. Be it clothes, vegetables or stainless steel vessels, grandma would get it at her price after a lot of bargaining. Relatives marvelled at how she managed it all. She might have seemed ruthless and inconsiderate, but shopkeepers always obliged her because she proved lucky for their business - 'boni rasi'. If grandma had the first pick they were sure to have a good sale that day. The thumb rule, according to grandma, was to always ask for half the price quoted and then work around it. Another formula was to feign a lack of interest and walk away. Knowing to clinch a deal, without stretching the negotiations too far, was also part of this strategy.

But even Grandma's skills would be put to test in the bustling metro of Singapore, I recently visited. Chinatown, known as a bargainers' paradise (the closest equivalent to our own Moore Market), is a must-see on most tour operators' list. Not being as efficient as grandma, I usually prefer to go to shops which sell quality products at a fair price. But nevertheless, I couldn't resist a visit to Chinatown. Once I was there, I quickly realised that the prices were deliberately marked high to allow a sufficient margin for bargaining.

As I ran my eyes over a pair of acrylic Bermudas, the shopkeeper immediately beckoned me in. As we wended our way through rows of shops, he quoted $25. As I walked past with an air of studied indifference, he came down to $15 and by the time, I made my way to the end of the row and back, he was willing to part with it for a mere $10. I knew it was probably worth only $5 and I didn't stop to strike a deal. I then asked the friendly tourist guide how one could ascertain the real price and he repeated grandma's words - "Ask for half the price."

Bargaining has its share of heart breaks. After scouring the whole of Singapore's Marina Square, Orchard Road, Little India, and Mustafa's for a kitchen timer, I found one in Chinatown for my favourite Ganesha temple priest's wife. The shop was run by an enterprising, but adamant lady. There were two timers available for $16 and 17 each. Pegging the price at 50 per cent of the quoted amount, I instinctively knew it wouldn't work here. "I can give it to you for $16 each," said the lady firmly, sensing my reluctance. I made a quick mental calculation and thought it was a good buy because I had bought one at Chennai's Patni Plaza for a much higher price. Time was running out too. So I decided to close the deal and go for the timer. But to my horror, I saw an almost identical one at a duty-free shop in Changi airport for just $13. Of course, there is a difference in price among the Japanese, Korean and Taiwanese-made goods, but I still felt I had been duped. I vowed to visit only duty free shops in future.

I recalled how even my redoubtable grandma was once duped. She bargained for a dozen clay pots and got them for half the quoted price. We were all gloating over the fact that she had done it again. But a heavy downpour that night proved us wrong. The pots were apparently half-baked and were reduced to a mound of clay. Sometimes even experienced bargainers get a raw deal.

SUDHA UMASHANKER

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