Most of you know me to be an opinionated guy, and if you know that and clicked on the link anyway, then you now what to expect. Much as I am deeply enjoying this trip, there are nonetheless things that are less than perfect. Here are just a few:
Exact change
Retail cashiers are a privileged class in Germany. They get little jackets with their name embroidered on the front. They get to sit. And they have an entire country of people conditioned into trying to pay with exact change. Always!
And. It. Drives. Me. Nuts.
At Lidl and Aldi, for instance, the ratio of customers to cashiers is always about 83 to 1, so there are always long, long lines at the checkout. And you know who's at the front of every line? Some idiot who feels the need to spend a full minute digging through every pocket to see if they have exactly 15.27 Euros. These people take longer than the people who pay by check at the grocery stores in the US. The cashiers not only tolerate this, they actively encourage it - it's as if they think there's a national change shortage, and this valuable commodity must be hoarded! There is no awareness of the other 82 people in line - and in fact, they don't seem to care, because they all have their own change, ready to be wielded, perhaps to win the elusive gratitude of a cashier placated.
And since I'm on the subject of grocery stores
On the flight over here I read an interesting article in The Economist about the psychology of grocery store layouts - how behavioral scientists are tracking customer movements and designing store layouts so as to increase sales and the like.
Apparently this research has never made it to Germany.
Seriously, there is no reason behind the layout of their grocery stores. If you enter a store needing three items, better give yourself 20 minutes, because you'll have to search everywhere. It's completely random. Here's what's on the first aisle at Lidl, a store where we often shop: jam, bread, beer, wine, vegetables, bratwurst, cheese. You will not find the mustard near the ketchup, but you will find both in different freezer aisles. You won't find the sugar near the flour, because it's over by the sparkling water and the eggs - perfect if you're trying out that recipe for carbonated crepes...
Museum crowds
I mentioned my trip to the Jewish Museum. Part of the design is an Axis of the Holocaust - a hallway featuring displays of possessions of Jews murdered during World War II. It's a sobering display, one that I think demands quiet reflection. Too bad it's crowded with a gazillion people chattering away and pointing at this and that as if they were at a baseball game. It feels deeply wrong. It's like this at all of the bigger museums, and while I'm glad there are so many people interested in the art, I wish they could keep their voices down and grasp the meaning of the place.
Musicians on the subway
Once upon a time I was sort of charmed by the guys who'd come onto the subway car playing music and asking for change. I mean, yes, it was panhandling of a sort, but at least they were providing entertainment. By now, though, I've reached my limit on this. The end of my tolerance came when my ears were abused by two guys playing Wham's "Careless Whisper", one with a guitar and the other with a tiny sax. And let me assure you, these guilty feet had no rhythm. It was truly awful.
The thing is, though, Aidan loves it. He fell in love with street musicians as a genre when we visited Chicago last December, so when he's with us, I always give him some change to give to them. And so it was that one day The World's Worst Musician entered our subway car. I have no idea how stoned he was, but I'm going to go with "totally, dude ". He mumbled along with his out-of-tune guitar, as people actually pointed and laughed. But Aidan was entranced. And so as the others laughed, Aidan gave the guy a Euro. As a psychologist I can only expect will reinforce the behavior of strumming while stoned, but that's the price I'm willing to pay for the smile on Aidan's face. We are part of the problem.
What we need, I think, is for the people who obsess about exact change to be the ones donating to the bad musicians. The ten minutes they spend counting out the 34 cents they think the song was worth will be ten minutes of silence for the rest of us.
Single installation art
I love visiting art galleries. I don't so much love when I pay my entrance fee, only to find there's only one thing there. And I hate it when that one thing is inane. Last week I visited the Temporaere Kunsthalle. It featured an installation of a cactus and a car engine. The engine was from the car that had been used to drive the cactus to its installation. Now the motor was running 24/7 to keep the cactus warm. I looked at the cactus, looked at the motor, looked at my wallet, now lighter by 6 Euros (which would pay for a littel over a gallon of gas), and left, annoyed. This is the kind of art that causes funding cuts for the arts.
Still, at least the building is kind of cool, though maybe it should trade places with the local Legoland: