Another Wacky Day

This morning I woke up earlier than was usual for a Tuesday. The reasons were twofold: I had to go to work early for “office makeovers,” and I had to go to the bank. Would you like to know which event yielded a sexy result? Then settle in for a bizarre and convoluted tale.

It all began when I went to the bank to transfer $50,000 into my overseas account. It was my first time transferring money back to Canada, so I was a bit confused about the form I had to fill out. The clerk didn’t speak much English, so she called a man from upstairs to come down and translate for us. It was the same guy who helped me when I lost my bank card the first and second time. He seemed to remember me somehow. Anyway, he translated, and told me how much the transfer fees are, the currency rate, and the final amount in Canadian dollars, which, as it turns out, is nothing near 50 Gs.

He made small talk with me while the clerk was using her computer. He asked me if I would want to tutor some employees’ kids sometime. Doing private lessons is good money, so I said I could do it in my spare time. He took my phone number, and he made sure I had his cell. Then he said I could call if I need help at the bank, or if I want to party. I said “Party? Can you do that in Sinjhuang?” He misheard me and said, “Do I dance when I get drunk? Not really.” I thought this was very strange thing to hear from a professional looking bank employee. It’s not everyday you hear the word “drunk” during a legitimate business transaction.

After I left, I wondered if he was using the opportunity to speak English as an opportunity to hit on a client without his coworkers’ knowledge. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. The point is, I am awesome, and I wasn’t even wearing any makeup. I was saving my face for makeover day.

Makeover day was the brainchild of one of my school’s managers. She thinks our school would have an edge, and seem more professional, if the female staff all wore makeup “like a lawyer.” So, the school hired a lady from Shiseido cosmetics to do a training session. When my male supervisor first told me about the event, I found it very strange, and mildly offensive. Later, I realized that there might be free stuff, and hilarious photo opportunities, so I decided to hope for the best. I was actually getting curious about what my Taiwanese makeover would look like.

The cosmetics lady spoke in Chinese and waved a bunch of lotions and things around for two hours. My co-worker Shauna said she would translate for me, and even switched seats to do it, but she was too excited about all the products to tell me anything. At the end of the demonstration (15 minutes before it was time to don the bright red T-shirt and start making poop jokes, like lawyers), we could have free-range on all the sample goods. Everyone piled to the front of the classroom (yes, we were sitting in desks), and started trying all the stuff. Even if I knew what anything was, there’s no way I would go through the dogpile to get it. So, makeover day was a big waste of time, and I left without makeup. Just like my trip to the science museum, I expected something slightly amusing, and was shut out.