the customer isn't right if you don't realize you have customers

Once, when my mom and I were in a market in Turkey, we met a very persistent merchant. Actually we met many; actually, every merchant in Turkey, as far as I can tell, is pushy to the point of nearly assaulting his customers. This one stands out in my memory, though, because he impressed me.

"You would like a necklace for your pretty daughter?" he asked my mother. "I don't speak English," Mom answered in German. "I speak only Deutsch."

"No you don't," countered the man, correctly, and fluently, also in German.

He had her number—that was his job, to see through excuses and communicate with everyone he could. He and his bretheren accost you as soon as you're in range and don't let go until they've made a sale or you've somehow scampered away. Being aggressive salesmen is how they make their living, which is not to say I particularly enjoy either having products pushed on me or soliciting dontations myself.

Anywhere there are salespeople in the world, there will be an attempt to greet potential customers, tempt them with products, close the deal.

Except in the Netherlands.

Here, the stallkeepers at the street markets go out of their way not to hassle you. It took me 15 minutes to buy 100g of shiitake mushrooms today: after I finally got the man's attention long enough to ask the price, he immediately turned away to fiddle with his stock of beets; eventually I snagged him again long enough to weigh my order; it took a while longer before he remembered I should be getting some change.

Honestly, I like this way much better.

In stores here, no one rushes up to you within three seconds of your entrance to cheerily ask if you're looking for anything in particular and give you a name you'll invariably forget by the time the cashier asks who was helping you. The salesgirls will never "[pick] out a few other skirts [they] think might look really cute on you." Here, you'd be lucky to find someone willing to look in the back for another size.

This can be great—I love not having to repeat "I'm just looking" seven times during a wander through a too-expensive clothing store. And it's relaxing to know that no matter how long I sit reading over an empty cup at my favorite cafe, no one will come over to hurry me on my way on the pretext of asking me if I want anything else. But this breezy neglect cuts both ways: it can often take upwards of 20 mintues to get the attention of a waiter at all, first to get the menus, then to place an order, and finally to get the check.

I once made eye contact three times with the waitress at the cafe where I am a regular, the first time nodding a little as if to say, "yes, I'm ready to order." She nodded back and went on stacking cups. The next time she looked my way, I smiled and waved a little, in that (nearly) universal way that means "I'd like you to come over here so I can give you my drink order." She smiled and waved back.

The third time, I gave her a stare that (to most of the world) clearly says "hello? do you not see me sitting here? the girl who looks thirsty and kind of irritated?"

Her gaze slipped past me, over to the window, and she walked over to the bagel oven to check on the current batch.