*I know I've taken a hiatus from blogging, but I'm back. This will probably be the first of several blogs about my adventures in Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam.*
I've just finished a three month journey in southeast Asia as part of a five-country economic survey. My theory was that the citizens of said region, under the guise of financial duress, take advantage of foreign travelers with over-inflated prices for their products and services. I also wanted to prove that these were not isolated cases, but a deliberate, complex, multilateral trading scheme. From rip-off watch vendors of Singapore, to pointed-hat wearing fruit sellers of Vietnam, the similarities of their marketing strategies are uncanny. They can be broken down into two major categories, which I will examine in the following report. I will break down the marketing strategies and show you the devious natures of the southeast Asian "impoverished" business person and how their "grassroots" sales approach reaches a global customer base.
1: Same Same But Different
As you travel throughout the different countries of southeast Asia there are always two constant variables: tourists and hawkers. This cultural symbiotic relationship is the modern represensation of the ancient philosophy of yin and yang. Two opposites working in harmony, or that's the way it should be. With their money-based lifestyle, the aggressive businessmen of the region have tipped the scale in their own favor.
In my extensive travels I've discovered that hawkers are not only inevitable, but deliberate part of the tourist experience. Each country varies slightly, but the overall feel is the same: pushy, tenacious, opportunistic individuals with limited English skills but with preternatural understandings of finance, currency, and exchange rates. And, underneath everything, humming like an electric current is this phrase: same same but different.
Printed on blouses and tank tops from Kuala Lumpur to Hanoi, this phrase bounces on the breasts of foreign women and off the lips of local merchants. Even though it's a pretty asinine comment, it's actually a rather accurate description of their marketing strategy. No matter where you go, you get offered the same stuff. If one product is selling, it will be replicated and sold everywhere. You can count on it.
Since 'Same Same But Different' serves as the umbrella strategy for all business, and because of the ambiguity of the theory, it can sometimes cause not-so-subtle overlaps in sales pitches.
You can purchase one product, and immediately be pitched the exact same product by another vendor. Sun glasses are a classic example. In Saigon I bought one pair, and immediately another man approached and offered me the same pair for half the price. Unsure of the quality I bought one more pair, 'just to be safe', and then was immediately approached by another man who witnessed the first two transactions. "Three is too much," I say. "You're trying to sell at the margin, I don't want any more." I don't think he understood.
Another great example are the food hawkers. In all of southeast Asia, vendors will approach you while you're sitting down at open air restaurants enjoying a meal. They sell everything from the above mentioned sunglasses, to newspapers, and even ironically, food. On too many times to count I've been enjoying a meal and was then offered fresh produce. "No thank you," I say, trying not to laugh. "Pizza and bananas don't mix." When they try and press the sale, I reply, "Yes, I understand they serve the same purchase, and it's different food, but I'm just not hungry any more. Great effort, work on your timing." They always ignore my advice and try to pitch their wares to other, hopefully hungrier, customers in the restaurant.
The children hawkers of Angkor Wat were ruthless in this approach (don't be fooled by their ages and "innocent" expressions. They're swindlers) offering bracelets for a dollar. "I don't want a bracelet," I said. "Ok, three for same price," they always respond. "But I only have two arms." The humor was always lost on them.
Still, the sunglasses and the bracelets, and even the bananas, I get. I know the glasses are cheap, I may want some more for insurance. The bracelets could be gifts for friends at home. And you know what, maybe, just maybe, that restaurant didn't fill me up. A cheap banana dessert would hit the spot. What I really don't get, though, are the book vendors. Come on!
In Vietnam book sellers carry around identical stacks of paperbacks (they're all intricately made copies. There must be some serious underground Kinko's hard at work spitting out bootleg books). When they see you buy one the others rush in. "Buy more." "No, too much," I say. "This takes time to read, and two are too heavy." My words go in one ear hole and out the other, "Yes buy another." Logic doesn't work.
But, all of these examples are obvious to anyone who visits this part of the world. 'Same Same But Different;' it immediately makes sense and you move on. You see it so often your conscious mind turns it off and it just becomes a subliminal message.
What I'm interested in is the POV of the hawkers. You can turn that phrase right around on us and it also works. To them, as I've said, we all look the 'same' ,but we're all 'different' potential consumers. So, seeing and hearing this phrase everyday is a sort of hidden message of encouragement for THEM. It tells them to press on, someone will buy.
Before I figured this out I always thought the vendors were confusing me with someone they knew. "Hello, friend," they said, walking towards me and smiling. I always frowned, looked around, and then asked them, "What's your friend's name?" Now they frown, "No, friend. You." "Me?" Finger to my chest, "We're friends, really?" "Yes." At this point I usually attempted a hug but it never worked.
"You buy." Then full realization washes over me and I feel a little uneasy. I want to explain that I follow the age-old Western adage of 'Not Mixing Business with Pleasure,' and that they should change their sales approach, but I have a feeling they won't understand. So, instead I say (and at this point there has been an awkward silence of several seconds), "I'm sorry, but I don't feel comfortable buying from friends. By the way, nice glasses," I say, touching the pair on my head that matches what he's selling.
What really confused me were the women that LIVED this philosophy. Women here were not afraid to commit, as they shamelessly declared to love me for a long time (even though, if you're a stickler for grammar, they never used indefinite articles). They didn't even know me, I was just a different foreigner, with the same handsome face they're used to seeing.
I never felt good after such encounters, sometimes they happened several times a day. I do want to support the local economy, but I've got principles. These internal dilemmas continued until one fateful morning. Will and I woke up early so he could do some filming. We didn't see any foreigners, but we did see a big truck stopping at the local hawker stalls. They opened it up, took out the merchandise for the day, and the truck moved on, depositing identical merchandise at the next stop. Will and I turned slowly towards each other, and with the wide eyes said, "Same same but different." I slept soundly for the first time in weeks.
2: Never Try Never Know
I first heard this phrase from a tour guide in the jungles of Malaysia. He somehow managed to tie it into all of his sentences, and it's followed me ever since. This goes hand in hand with 'Same Same But Different,' but it's usually applied for activities.
The best example is the infamous 'massage.' It's probably the 'same same' massage as next door, but there is not product to look at. This is where the second strategy is so effective, because honestly, unless you try, you won't know. Genius.
One time when 'Never Try Never Know' pulled us into a massage parlor in Saigon, I wanted to embarrass an overzealous - in my eyes - Will. So, as the proprietess ushered un in I said, in my best awkward-conservative voice, "No funny business." She looked offended, and Will looked annoyed. Still, the massage was great.
A funnier example, but one that we chose not to indulge in, was the rapid-fire sales pitch of a Cambodian tuk-tuk (motorized rick shaw [covered two-seater cart hand pulled in India]) driver. "Tuk-tuk? Marijuana? Massage? Boom boom?" They get closer and closer as they say it and their grins get lewder and lewder. I asked them once if 'boom boom' meant shooting guns. They laughed and made violent hip motions. Not interested, fellah.
What's funny to me, because I was asked the same question by ALL of them, is what their impression of us must be. They must think every foreign guy wants to take a tuk-tuk ride, get stoned, rubbed, and boned. While that actually sounds like a pleasant evening, it's a pretty narrow marketing scheme. What if I just want someone to talk to? Come on guys.
The best thing, though, is to use their own weapons against them. On the jungle river in Malaysia our tour guide was hasseling the guys in the group to rope swing out into the water (I had already gone three times and successfully executed the difficult rope-swing backflip). This guy was getting a good laugh at the dudes too shy or uninterested to try it, so - standing half in the water like a glorious river Poseidon - I told himi to go. When he shook his head I smiled and said, "Never try never know." He was shamed and went.
Another time a hawker girl (hawkette?) came into our restaurant in Hoi An, Vietnam, selling Tiger Balm. Her English was OK, and she kept repeating "Never Try Never Know," like a mantra. I kept telling her that in fact I had tried and did indeed know, but I couldn't dissuade her. This was usually my go-to strategy -talk around a person, they get confused and leave- and it was working until Will chimed in. She kept pushing and I blame it all on Will (side note: never try and barter when the hawker has support. I once tried to talk the Exorbitant price of batteries down from a teenage hawkette in Angkor Wat, but her 15 friends kept cheering her on and she wouldn't budge) Will kept telling this girl I loved the stuff and grinning like a fool. Even when I talked her down from $6 to $2 and she wasn't making any profit and visibly agitated she wouldn't leave. So, I bought it cheap and sent her away angry, and then tried to make Will feel guilty.
In conclusion, Southeast Asia is poor and they want your money. Whether it's Pringles or prostitutes they'll try and find clever (and not so clever) ways to charge you extra. Had I known three months ago what I know now about the devious pychological business machinations that burn like dengae fever all through these countries, I probably could have saved the $20 I've been overcharged in that time. Damn them.
