service with a smile

The local, the English language daily or Germany, has an interesting forum on the question of customer service in the country, positing a definite retrograde motion, and highlights some crucial cultural expectations for native and foreign markets alike. I for one am hesitant to condemn any interaction or exchange as a bad experience (at least in the moment or without profuse excuses) because I feel that my grasp of the language, while capable of going beyond what is just a la carte or off the shelf, maybe is not articulate or flexible enough to be exacting with specifications.
Over the telephone, it is especially challenging from both ends and it’s an unreasonable expectation for service-personnel to anticipate one’s every desire—although I’ve also had some memorable and outstandingly patient assistance. There’s a whole spectrum between fawning and surly and there is a bit of both everywhere. A lot of different factors going into programming and policy when it comes to customer interaction and intervention, and I believe that there has been at least some acknowledgement of the competitive environment—that lack of choice and alternatives is a faltering defense, but maybe that realization is countered with another institution, that of a contractual lifespan—something usually tied to one’s residence and just as enduring. Just as moving is a hardship never to be executed without exhaustive planning, and despite whatever shortcomings and neighbourly problems that developed, the relationship with a grocer, mechanic, landlord, insurer or other provider of convenience or necessity is akin to a marriage and something or the long-haul. Shopping is generally a daily excursion and mostly intended for a stock that only lasts the day and perhaps does not invoke the same feeling of a long-term commitment but is still a bit of a chore that exacts daily maintenance that is not always reciprocal.

narrhalla u. prunksitz

I have experienced and even participated in quite a few Karnival or Faschings events over the years, dressing up and watching the parades in Würzburg and Köln. Rhenish traditions in western and northern Germany are distinct from the tenor and scope of the celebrations in Frankish Swabia and Bavaria but the party and pageantry are executed in the same spirit.

Customs in Mainz and the Rhein corridor were articulated in their present form in the nineteenth century, partially in protest to successive French and Prussian foreign rule, and the occupying governments were lampooned (the allegory was pretty transparent) with floats and monarchs of the Carnival court. The Free States did not have the same cause for gripes but have equally elaborate spectacles that invert everyday conventions—Narren are fools, jesters while Walhalla is the memorial honouring important figures of the German Sprachraum, especially in the week leading up to Lent. I don’t quite grasp, however, how this period becomes a Fifth Season. The party mood is not continuous—and I imagine would be hard to sustain, and is broken up by the solemn calendar days of Christmas. It just seems strange that the long celebration goes dormant and into hibernation, crossing the weave and warp of colder weather and other occasions, and then come back to life at the end, as Winter is dissipating. Maybe to wedge another season into the year enables that transition, relieved in restraint, once the long and dark season is showing signs of moving on.

ancien of days

French flea markets (car-boot sales, marché aux puces) have definitely been something to see for the local provenance and assizes.

Shopping at a distance under any cir- cumstances has its own imbalanace of peculiarities as well. Browsing offers from France, however—replete with the same descriptions and caveats translated by familiarity, becomes a very sophisticated venture. There are false friends and faux cognates that take on a buffering quality, especially to foreign ears. The rather gimmicky stock-phrases are politely abolished with a single vide poche or tres chic. One technique that is encountered quite often, rendered in English, is the “lost wax” casting method for bronzes. Whenever I read it, I want to ask if this forgotten art was practiced by extra-terrestrial flea-market-goers. Could it be ancient aliens? I am sure there’s the equivalent in other languages too but it’s refreshing to go about in ignorance and peace without such touts and taglines.

mona lisas and mad-hatters or meanwhile, back at the agora

The UNESCO world body has designated today, the third Thursday in November, as International Day of Philosophy to underscore the importance of dialogue and dialectic.

It is very much a part of the human condition to address the big questions with poise and perseverance, not wilting from discussion or collaboration, and while I think there has been some as sublimation and corralling in language and form, it has never left the public forum and the everyday. By degrees, I think, philosophy is the capacity for the curious reverence of life, from the astonishing to the stultifying, and there is still a healthy amount of assaying the fundamentals, the Forms. The initial and on-going courage and inquisitiveness to explore these ideas is the source of analytic and original ideas and is not easily consigned to pure academics. Rather, what the UN is inviting us (without being dogmatic or doctrinaire) is to be mindful of those big things that we take for granted and maybe forget to think about. Dogmas, in civic and political thought, came about because no one is able to hold the whole battery of a discipline in one’s head at once, which is good for membership and affiliation but maybe obscures (neglected) alternatives to certain givens.