I happened to stumble across a Russian sales associate today in my looking out for apartments. She’s been in the US for 10 years, originally I thought that she speaks without any accent, although I did pick it up afterwards. Probably in her early to mid-thirties, maybe late twenties. I realised that she was Russian when she pronounced my name in Russian, instead of in English as I introduced myself. I forgot her name. Just kidding. But that’s the hint. (-:

Surprisingly, we had a nice talk about the names. She admitted that there was a movie about some “I forgot her name” that I’ve never heard about, and I told her about a famous movie named Constantine about Nick Constantine and some demons from just a couple of years ago, which she’s never heard of, probably because she “doesn’t like scary movies”, as she volunteered to admit. Well, not like I saw it myself, anyhow.

As she gave me the tour, it was fascinating to see just how much Soviet attitude the girl carries. First off, being Russian, she “knows everything”, and her assumptions cannot possibly be wrong.

Before the tour even fully started, I’m given the tour of the foyer of the building, where I can “meet friends”. Somehow, there is no intercom on the front door, so friends would have to call me, and I’d have to go down to pick them up. No wonder I was confused why would I be meeting friends there!

Do I have a [gym] membership? Because they have this gym that’s free of charge for all residents. They don’t have the [assisted] pull up machine I’m looking for? Well, it’s still free, so “you can cancel the membership”. I don’t have any membership, would you just stop referring to my non-existent gym membership, or the fact that I wouldn’t need to get one, and acknowledge the possibility that one of the machines I have at my existing apartment complex is missing from your gym, so in fact, I might actually need a gym membership now that you don’t have the machine I’d be looking for?!

I then observe that the pool is like really-really tiny, 3 or 3.5 ft max. I tell her, that it’s the tiniest swimming pool I’ve ever seen, period! She asks me if I swim. She tells me that they’re a high-rise, and it’s actually still a big pool. I tell her that I’ve just visited the facilities of two of their competitors, and they all have considerably much bigger pools that her place has. She suggests that those competitors have condos for sale, not lease, as if that’s really that relevant to the conversation. I admit that the view of the mountains and the immediate area is very nice, though (especially compared to 88’s view of dirty roofs with small air conditioning units). I’m further advised that I can take pictures. I decide to take pictures of the tiny pool and the view of the mountains.

We proceed. In the business centre I point out that one of the legs on a table is broken. She offers some explanation that doesn’t really make that much sense (“it was moved”), and I wasn’t even asking for any explanation to begin with; merely pointing out something that they might want to address for safety reasons. I point out that I’m simply observant and pay a lot of attention to details, and not trying to sound like I’m just complaining or being rude. Anyhow.

Throughout the tour, she points out about all the facilities that me and “my friends” could use. As if me, being so much of an American now, has that many friends? At the end of the tour, I’m asking what is the smoking policy. She tells me that she’ll have to double check, but before she does, she inquires me about whether or not I smoke; and, this is the part, she seemingly comes from the assumption that I might indeed smoke. I’m not exactly sure what was the reason for her asking on whether I smoke, but based on her asking me just a second before she could clarify the policy with another sales associate, it sounds as if she was merely preparing to couch me whichever way my answer would be. Lucky for her, that wasn’t needed: the policy is actually non-smoking.

Oh, one final thing. She’s a pretty thin regular Russian attractive girl (I wouldn’t say underweight, though). She can’t open any of the [fire-safe] doors that must be opened as part of the presentation, because I doubt she herself pays any visits to the gym. This comes in a big contrast with any late-20+ American sales associates, which, thin or thick, always have enough power to open any doors with one go momentarily. Perhaps it’s part of the American culture, to be able to open all these fire doors without any visible difficulty?

So, in summary: I find it almost too easy to distinguish Russians based on behaviour alone. This experience today just re-affirmed my stereotype about a certain sub-group of Russian salesmen. Everything is always taken personally, everything they have would always fit you, friends can be entertained with chic, and gym membership comes for free. An interesting experience indeed. :-)