Cleanliness, Shopping Carts & Cash

Cleanliness is an admirable quality. Sparkling Homes and shiny waxed cars have something inviting about them, something fresh, distinct, relaxing. There is a certain level of order that becomes stifling, though. I live in a country in which people voluntarily sweep and weed their sidewalks. I have friends whose children’s
clothing is always clean and pressed, no matter what type of activity in which they are engaged. Ironing, I believe, is a national pastime for most housewives.

When I first moved to Germany, I didn’t own an iron or an ironing board. We made due with a borrowed iron that my father-in-law had used to wax his skis. Using only a bed sheet underneath, my husband would iron his shirts on the floor and deftly avoid the seeping wax from the iron. After six months of this, my mother-in-law gently reminded me one day that irons and ironing boards just so happened to be on sale at two separate chain stores that week. Dutifully and with great expectation, I went to the stores to purchase the new
household items.

Germany is a great country. It has tasty beer, great food, and employees get lots of vacation by American standards. But what I find most confusing in this country of great order and bureaucracy is shopping. It isn’t easy. In fact, I am completely confused.

Since moving to Germany in January, the word variety store has taken on a new meaning for me. To purchase my iron, I had to go to a grocery store. To purchase my ironing board, I had to go to another grocery store. When I want to buy children’s clothing, I go to a grocery store. To purchase shoes, I go to a grocery store. There are even stores that house post offices, banks, newspapers, grapes, and panty hose all under one roof. But, try finding dried lentils at the grocery store, and everyone will point you to the only obscure health foodstore for miles that has no parking and
abbreviated store hours.

When I was faced with wanting to purchase a bath robe to take on vacation for my kids, I was clueless. The grocery store in which I purchase most of my children’s clothing did not feature bathrobes that week. What was I to do?

Luckily, during one of my romps to town, I stumbled upon a branch store that featured catalogue merchandise. The saleslady courteously showed me the choice of bathrobes in her catalogue. She had exactly one style with a choice of blue or pink. I took one in each color for my son and daughter.

At the end of the week, I went to pick up the bathrobes at the branch. My daughter had accompanied me on my run of errands that morning. This was our sixth stop, and her bladder was about to give out. The saleslady kindly allowed us to use her bathroom (which was not as clean as I had expected a German bathroom to be!). When I tried to pay with a debit card, she told me that they only accepted cash. Which brings me to my next point.

In the United States, I always shopped with my debit card. It was a convenient, controlled method of payment with few side effects. Debit card shopping in Germany is not as common. When I’m in a hurry, I tend to forget which store accepts cards and which only cash.

Let’s go back to the store with ironing boards on sale for a moment. Earlier this summer, they had patio umbrellas for sale right next to the frozen foods section. I gathered a sleepy two-year-old and a hyper four-year-old in eighty degree weather to accomplish this task. The first obstacle was having the right change to use the shopping cart. German grocery stores all have coin-operated shopping carts to prevent theft. But, if you happen not to have the correct coin that day, you are left to find other possible means in which to house your groceries before checking out. I chose to use Jason’s baby stroller. It has a spacious basket and a belt for restraining my son in moments of great curiosity.

We entered the store and grabbed the items we sought. The umbrella was the last item, which I had to balance under my arm as we stood in line. When it was my turn to check out, the clerk whipped the items across her scanner so fast that I could barely keep up. You see, there are no bag boys in Germany either. In fact, in most stores there are no bags. Again, you have to think ahead and with great strategy when shopping here. Somehow the items suddenly didn’t fit so neatly into the stroller’s basket as they had before. Then came the umbrella. My daughter Kara was busy taking out all the items in the basket to search for the gum I had promised her when the real shocker came.

“We only accept cash, Miss,” the clerk said flatly. I was holding my debit card out to her and holding my breath all the while in hopes to finding relief from this experience. It was not to be. I left the entire stroller of stuff at the store (I did take my son with me, though!) while I sought out an ATM machine near-by. We found one. And it charged me $4 to take out the cash that the store required. Somehow I couldn’t help but feel that the bank and the store were in cohoots!

Christine Louise Hohlbaum, American author of Diary of a Mother: Parenting Stories and Other Stuff is a freelance writer who has been writing short stories since she was eleven years old. With several degrees from the U.S. and Germany in political science, German and American Literature, she currently lives with her husband and two kids near Munich. Visit her web site to learn more about her writing at:

http://mypages.iparenting.com/webs/diaryofamother/

diaryofamother.html.

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