Friday, July 29, 2011
"Have it our way"
American fast food restaurants compete for business by claiming that they cater to the customer's every craving. Burger King's mantra is "Have it your way." At McDonald's you can order a cheeseburger but ask them to hold the onions, pickles and ketchup.
Granted, it doesn't mean you'll actually get what you ordered. (I always factor in extra time to go back and point out that I got a McChicken instead of a McRib and two orders are fries are missing.) But they quickly agree to whatever customization you might desire.
One of my fellow reporters at our city newspaper once tested this marketing claim by visiting every brand of fast food restaurant in town to order the most bizarre customizations he could think of. He wanted to see if all of them would actually do it "your way." (That's how he learned there's a reason no restaurant has ever tried to sell a burger-fish patty combo.)
The Germans and Swiss approach customization differently: What customization?
Our local McDonald's has a beautifully extensive breakfast menu. They even sell a McGriddle breakfast sandwich. I love the McGriddle's delicate balance of sweet and salty flavors. In the U.S. you can have the McGriddle with sausage or bacon. In Germany, the McGriddle only comes with sausage.
I don't like breakfast sausage.
On my past three visits to our McDonald's, I've tried with my limited German to ask if they could swap out the sausage for bacon. I know they have bacon in stock. It's on most of their other breakfast sandwiches.
"Koennen Sie McGriddle mit bacon machen?" I ask. (Can you McGriddle with bacon make?)
Each time the cashier's face reflects confusion. And it's not because of my German. Then she glances back at the lighted menu board as if to remember what comes on the McGriddle. She explains to me something in German that I usually don't understand, affirmed by a negative shake of the head.
"Nicht bacon?" I repeat, just to be sure.
"Nein," she replies regretfully. And so I order an Egg McMuffin.
If I knew more German, I would be able to distinguish whether the cashier of the day is saying she is sorry they don't have a bacon option on the menu, or if she means that they are absolutely not able to make it differently, even with a slight upcharge.
This morning, as I ate my Egg McMuffin a little sadly, I tried to see the bright side. I said to my husband, "Ok, you can't have it 'your way' in Germany. But, in spite of the fact that here I'm ordering in a different language, at least I always get what I order. They haven't messed it up once."
"In America you have to order in a different language, too," he pointed out.
Granted, it doesn't mean you'll actually get what you ordered. (I always factor in extra time to go back and point out that I got a McChicken instead of a McRib and two orders are fries are missing.) But they quickly agree to whatever customization you might desire.
One of my fellow reporters at our city newspaper once tested this marketing claim by visiting every brand of fast food restaurant in town to order the most bizarre customizations he could think of. He wanted to see if all of them would actually do it "your way." (That's how he learned there's a reason no restaurant has ever tried to sell a burger-fish patty combo.)
The Germans and Swiss approach customization differently: What customization?
Our local McDonald's has a beautifully extensive breakfast menu. They even sell a McGriddle breakfast sandwich. I love the McGriddle's delicate balance of sweet and salty flavors. In the U.S. you can have the McGriddle with sausage or bacon. In Germany, the McGriddle only comes with sausage.
I don't like breakfast sausage.
On my past three visits to our McDonald's, I've tried with my limited German to ask if they could swap out the sausage for bacon. I know they have bacon in stock. It's on most of their other breakfast sandwiches.
"Koennen Sie McGriddle mit bacon machen?" I ask. (Can you McGriddle with bacon make?)
Each time the cashier's face reflects confusion. And it's not because of my German. Then she glances back at the lighted menu board as if to remember what comes on the McGriddle. She explains to me something in German that I usually don't understand, affirmed by a negative shake of the head.
"Nicht bacon?" I repeat, just to be sure.
"Nein," she replies regretfully. And so I order an Egg McMuffin.
If I knew more German, I would be able to distinguish whether the cashier of the day is saying she is sorry they don't have a bacon option on the menu, or if she means that they are absolutely not able to make it differently, even with a slight upcharge.
This morning, as I ate my Egg McMuffin a little sadly, I tried to see the bright side. I said to my husband, "Ok, you can't have it 'your way' in Germany. But, in spite of the fact that here I'm ordering in a different language, at least I always get what I order. They haven't messed it up once."
"In America you have to order in a different language, too," he pointed out.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
How do you say "layering" in German?
Most women would agree that it's hard enough to get the haircut you want at a salon where the hairdresser speaks your language. Imagine the difficulty in communicating a new hairstyle you want with someone in another language altogether.
My few German classes covered things like greetings (Gruss Gott!), commenting on the weather (Es ist regnet!), how to order in a restaurant (Ich moechte eine pizza mit salami, bitte) and how to talk about your family (Ich habe einen Katze). They didn't teach me how to ask for the bottom to be trimmed, layers throughout and angled bangs. I know Germany has its share of cows, but do they have a word for cowlick?
The danger of trying to prepare your requests through something like Google Translate is that if you put in the phrase "bottom to be trimmed" it might spit out a phrase that has you asking for your butt to be made smaller. I'm terrified of how it might translate "bangs."
Fortunately, I have found a fantastic salon where a picture really is worth a thousand words. The hairdressers speak almost no English, and my German is still embarrassing. So I simply sift through Internet photos of the hairstyle I want, print them out and show them to the stylist. And she gets it exactly right -- usually better -- every time.
I'm certainly not paying Fantastic Sam's prices. But a really good haircut that's going to last me 3-4 months is more than worth 40 euros ($58).
Well, it was more than worth 40 euros a few months ago.
Dang dollar.
My few German classes covered things like greetings (Gruss Gott!), commenting on the weather (Es ist regnet!), how to order in a restaurant (Ich moechte eine pizza mit salami, bitte) and how to talk about your family (Ich habe einen Katze). They didn't teach me how to ask for the bottom to be trimmed, layers throughout and angled bangs. I know Germany has its share of cows, but do they have a word for cowlick?
The danger of trying to prepare your requests through something like Google Translate is that if you put in the phrase "bottom to be trimmed" it might spit out a phrase that has you asking for your butt to be made smaller. I'm terrified of how it might translate "bangs."
Fortunately, I have found a fantastic salon where a picture really is worth a thousand words. The hairdressers speak almost no English, and my German is still embarrassing. So I simply sift through Internet photos of the hairstyle I want, print them out and show them to the stylist. And she gets it exactly right -- usually better -- every time.
I'm certainly not paying Fantastic Sam's prices. But a really good haircut that's going to last me 3-4 months is more than worth 40 euros ($58).
Well, it was more than worth 40 euros a few months ago.
Dang dollar.
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