Turkey in the Straw: Thingorjus sleeps in Istanbul
Aug 5th, 2005, 09:08 AM
#42
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There is still some more to our adventures in Turkey. I still have to relate our encounter with the carpet salesman. Plus, I want to write more about shopping. No time now, later. Ciao.
Aug 14th, 2005, 05:33 PM
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MUFFY KILLS A CARPET SALESMAN
I never related the story about our quartet’s dealings with a Turkish carpet salesman, which truth be told, is more loathsome than an American used-car salesman or British MP. Near to the Istanbul restaurant, Doy-Doy, is a carpet/tile/jewelry emporium. It is a very nice place, or so it seemed, and was recommended to us by someone as having a good reputation. I must write that the place was filled with high-quality merchandise. It is too bad that such a place couldn’t find better employees.
The salesman who greeted us was all teeth at first (our first warning that we would soon be dealing with a shark). He showed us around, taking us down to a basement gallery that displayed beautiful Isnik tiles. We all did the obligatory ooh-ing and aah-ing. He seemed pleased by all of this as he eyed up Muffy’s jewelry, my watch, and my mother’s shoes. We could actually hear the beads sliding back and forth in the abacus of his mind.
The carpet salesman then led us upstairs to the carpet showroom. Hereke, Mila, Balikesir, Yuntdag, you name it, they had it. My mother particularly loved a Hereke that was priced at $11,000. The carpet salesman explained that this particular carpet was made of pure silk. “For hanging on the wall?” I innocently asked, “Oh, no,” he replied, “you can walk on it. Silk is the strongest of all materials. It is stronger than wool.” Muffy then proclaimed that she wanted the rug to use as a “welcome mat” for her front door. So she wiped her feet on it to see how it would work out. The carpet salesman started screaming at Muffy. “But,” Muffy stated with a voice full of ennui, “you just said that silk was very strong. Surely I couldn’t hurt it with my Balenciaga espadrilles.”
Of course, my Keith had to chime in, fueled by two cups of Turkish coffee that were offered to him by a pretty women who was summoned by a snap of the carpet salesman’s fingers. “Now look here. I don’t like your attitude,” Keith bellowed. (This was very strange for him, as he is usually as feckless as dry toast.)
“Yea,” said Muffy, “I don’t like your attitude either. How ‘bout a punch in the stomach? And I can take you, too. I used to wrestle and box with our gardener, Pronto.” Needless to say, I intervened by making a beeline for the door and yelling, “Everybody to the bar. Drinks are on me.” Mother, Keith, and Muffy looked like they were fleeing a burning building as they ran down the steps and into a waiting taxi. I turned to he dismayed salesman and told him that he blew it. “In America we have a famous saying, ‘The customer is always right.’ You should have let Muffy wipe her feet on that carpet. She would have bought it, too. She could afford to buy this entire building along with you and your family.” And with that I bid him a pleasant evening, thinking about an icy gin Martini on my way to the taxi.
I never related the story about our quartet’s dealings with a Turkish carpet salesman, which truth be told, is more loathsome than an American used-car salesman or British MP. Near to the Istanbul restaurant, Doy-Doy, is a carpet/tile/jewelry emporium. It is a very nice place, or so it seemed, and was recommended to us by someone as having a good reputation. I must write that the place was filled with high-quality merchandise. It is too bad that such a place couldn’t find better employees.
The salesman who greeted us was all teeth at first (our first warning that we would soon be dealing with a shark). He showed us around, taking us down to a basement gallery that displayed beautiful Isnik tiles. We all did the obligatory ooh-ing and aah-ing. He seemed pleased by all of this as he eyed up Muffy’s jewelry, my watch, and my mother’s shoes. We could actually hear the beads sliding back and forth in the abacus of his mind.
The carpet salesman then led us upstairs to the carpet showroom. Hereke, Mila, Balikesir, Yuntdag, you name it, they had it. My mother particularly loved a Hereke that was priced at $11,000. The carpet salesman explained that this particular carpet was made of pure silk. “For hanging on the wall?” I innocently asked, “Oh, no,” he replied, “you can walk on it. Silk is the strongest of all materials. It is stronger than wool.” Muffy then proclaimed that she wanted the rug to use as a “welcome mat” for her front door. So she wiped her feet on it to see how it would work out. The carpet salesman started screaming at Muffy. “But,” Muffy stated with a voice full of ennui, “you just said that silk was very strong. Surely I couldn’t hurt it with my Balenciaga espadrilles.”
Of course, my Keith had to chime in, fueled by two cups of Turkish coffee that were offered to him by a pretty women who was summoned by a snap of the carpet salesman’s fingers. “Now look here. I don’t like your attitude,” Keith bellowed. (This was very strange for him, as he is usually as feckless as dry toast.)
“Yea,” said Muffy, “I don’t like your attitude either. How ‘bout a punch in the stomach? And I can take you, too. I used to wrestle and box with our gardener, Pronto.” Needless to say, I intervened by making a beeline for the door and yelling, “Everybody to the bar. Drinks are on me.” Mother, Keith, and Muffy looked like they were fleeing a burning building as they ran down the steps and into a waiting taxi. I turned to he dismayed salesman and told him that he blew it. “In America we have a famous saying, ‘The customer is always right.’ You should have let Muffy wipe her feet on that carpet. She would have bought it, too. She could afford to buy this entire building along with you and your family.” And with that I bid him a pleasant evening, thinking about an icy gin Martini on my way to the taxi.
Aug 14th, 2005, 09:36 PM
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I hope this isn't a double post but what the h*ll,
Hi Thin,
I think we must have met sales guys from the same family!
Our tour bus stopped and visited a rug maker while returning to our hotel from Ephesus, they showed us how the rugs were made.
Now you have to understand that I’m married to the nicest, kindest chap who takes an interest in things even though he doesn’t really like them – it’s called being polite!
So, everyone else has exited the building and it’s just the four of us! I’m feeling pressured and constrained so I tell my DS (he’s 12 at the time of this story) to pretend to feel ill so we can leave the building without me feeing guilty.
Being a good boy he moaned and groaned with the best of them and we (plus DD)headed to the tour bus, only to be stopped short by one of the older guys from the shop who was offering us peaches from the trees in the garden. He told us this would stop any sickness.
Well, now I’m feeling really guilty, I told him DS was allergic to peaches and we made it to the refuge of the bus, DH appeared 15 minutes later, he’d had a wonderful conversation with the rug sellers! Looking back I feel they have a different way of trying to sell their goods.
On the whole, as a woman I object to the fact that Turkish vendors pay more attention to the ‘man of the house’ after all, I am the one that makes the main decorating decisions.
Turkey is a wonderful place that I would recommend to anyone, just remember if you’re traveling with your wife, you have to make it clear to the salesguys that you value her opinion and it’s her decision that will cut the deal. You might not get respect from the Turkish salesmen but you will from your wife.
Hi Thin,
I think we must have met sales guys from the same family!
Our tour bus stopped and visited a rug maker while returning to our hotel from Ephesus, they showed us how the rugs were made.
Now you have to understand that I’m married to the nicest, kindest chap who takes an interest in things even though he doesn’t really like them – it’s called being polite!
So, everyone else has exited the building and it’s just the four of us! I’m feeling pressured and constrained so I tell my DS (he’s 12 at the time of this story) to pretend to feel ill so we can leave the building without me feeing guilty.
Being a good boy he moaned and groaned with the best of them and we (plus DD)headed to the tour bus, only to be stopped short by one of the older guys from the shop who was offering us peaches from the trees in the garden. He told us this would stop any sickness.
Well, now I’m feeling really guilty, I told him DS was allergic to peaches and we made it to the refuge of the bus, DH appeared 15 minutes later, he’d had a wonderful conversation with the rug sellers! Looking back I feel they have a different way of trying to sell their goods.
On the whole, as a woman I object to the fact that Turkish vendors pay more attention to the ‘man of the house’ after all, I am the one that makes the main decorating decisions.
Turkey is a wonderful place that I would recommend to anyone, just remember if you’re traveling with your wife, you have to make it clear to the salesguys that you value her opinion and it’s her decision that will cut the deal. You might not get respect from the Turkish salesmen but you will from your wife.
Aug 14th, 2005, 09:58 PM
#50
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Oh ThinGorjus, I have been waiting for this installment! I have some very close friends in the region of Veneto that until recently had a carpet store....oriental rugs. They know have closed that business but my friend does do repairs on Oriental rugs for people throughout northern Italy. Thanks to, shall we say, unusual business dealings and unsavory characters they no longer have their original business.
Love your story and think we all wish we had a Muffy in our life. Does having a Muffin count, our family does have one of them, LOL.
And Alya, hello again. interesting story1
Love your story and think we all wish we had a Muffy in our life. Does having a Muffin count, our family does have one of them, LOL.
And Alya, hello again. interesting story1
Aug 15th, 2005, 08:02 AM
#51
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Hi Thin,
Glad you're back and with another "Muffy Classic" too. And your parting words to that salesman... perfect. You can bet he thought about the magnitude of that lost sale for quite a while!
Glad you're back and with another "Muffy Classic" too. And your parting words to that salesman... perfect. You can bet he thought about the magnitude of that lost sale for quite a while!
Aug 15th, 2005, 10:28 AM
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Why are people so surprised that men not women get all the attention from salesmen? What do you expect from a country where women are regarded as second class citizens. I think one of the most interesting observations we made while driving through many small towns, was that we'd always see all the local men sitting in the middle of the day outside bars playing cards and having a good time. Then as we'd leave town we'd see all the women working in the fields.
Aug 15th, 2005, 10:45 AM
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LoveItaly,
I know that my thoughts were irratonal but at the time we were in a small windowless room with 6 smiling salesmen. Then they closed the door!
I just felt so suffocated that I had to get out of there and no way I was leaving my 'babies' behind, DH of course was a different matter
They were such high pressure salesmen that if DH had clambered on the bus with a rug under his arm I wouldn't have been suprised, luckily he's made of sterner stuff.
I know that my thoughts were irratonal but at the time we were in a small windowless room with 6 smiling salesmen. Then they closed the door!
I just felt so suffocated that I had to get out of there and no way I was leaving my 'babies' behind, DH of course was a different matter
They were such high pressure salesmen that if DH had clambered on the bus with a rug under his arm I wouldn't have been suprised, luckily he's made of sterner stuff.
Aug 15th, 2005, 12:15 PM
#54
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Glad you liked my amusing anecdote. I only noticed salesmen being condescending towards women in the Sultanahmet section of Istanbul. When we were in Beyoglu, all the salemen in the shops spoke directly to my mother and Muffy. There was also no pressure to buy in Beyoglu. None of the salespeople in the posh Pasabache glass shop on Istiklal Caddesi even approached us.
Aug 26th, 2005, 05:26 PM
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Texas, I went to Dartmouth with Muffy's brother, Minty (Minturn). Later, Muffy just happened to have the same pilates instructor as I. The rest is history. Did I ever tell you that Muffy is a relative of Katharine Drexel, the American saint? The whole family is embarrassed because their branch of the family is Episcopal. Muffy's father won't have her name mentioned in the house. A whore and a saint in the same family, only in Philadelphia.
