"I need to drop by Watsons," I informed the boyfriend the moment we set foot outside the hotel.
"Anything else?" he asked, grinning.
"No! Watsons! Need! Now!"
Realising that this was not the time to tease, he guided me straight into the nearest Watsons. It was near People's Square in Shanghai. It was sheer and utter madness. The sales promoters were shouting about their respective brands like fishmongers. Swooping down on the most taupey palette I could find at the L'Oreal counter (it seemed like the most reliable drugstore brand) I was stopped from whisking it off to the counter by a determined sales girl.
"??????!" she ordered me in mandarin.
Inwardly cursing my banana-ness I made her explain to me, with gestures and halting English that I had to pay for the palette FIRST and then return to collect it.
Flustered by the complete paranoia displayed by Watsons Shanghai, I asked her to write up a bill of sale for me while I tried to procure a Maybelline Mascara. No dice. Even the humble mascara required the entire song and dance.
Clutching the order forms, I fought my way through the milling crowds to the counter, paid, and fought my way back to the cosmetic counters, by then, in a bit of a snit.
Clutching my purchases I burst gratefully into the clear, cold outdoor air.
