chair, chair!

I am in the backseat of a cab, well a YandexGo, the post-Soviet world's Uber/Lyft equivalent. The backseat is 2/3 folded down, and I'm holding onto the wheeled base of the office chair I just bought to keep it from repeatedly banging against the compressed natural gas tank in the cargo area as the car navigates evening traffic on a rainy day. The top of the chair is lying on the folded-down seat next to me. 

My apartment is beautiful, but the landlords clearly think of it as a place for sleeping and eating. Every time we talk, the wife in the couple is like, "You're working here? From the apartment?" There is no desk, only this oval dining table and its six (!) chairs. 

The table is actually a pretty perfect work surface for me. I like to be able to spread out around my laptop, and I don't need a bunch of drawers, but these chairs are only comfortable for about an hour, so I've also spent a lot of work time on the equally un-ergonomic sofa. My spine thinks this has been a terrible idea.

Why, you may ask, if things have been so uncomfortable, has it taken me so long to acquire a new chair for this space?

Two weekends ago, I visited several furniture stores in the city center, and boggled at the prices. Then, I tried to order something online, but the store never contacted me to arrange delivery (and they also never charged me), so that was a fail. Today I ventured out of the center to Furniture Row, a two kilometer stretch of the road out to the airport lined with furniture stores on both sides. The trip was worth it for better prices and more selection.

Because I don't understand the expectations of normal human interaction in this culture, even going to the office furniture store for a chair is a whole thing. Stores in Yerevan all seem to have ample sales staff, who want to talk with customers and guide them through the store. Stepping into the store starts a negotiation about language. 

"Բարեւ Ձեզ," I greet them in Armenian. 

"Բարեւ Ձեզ," they reply and then continue speaking Armenian, but I've nearly exhausted my vocabulary already.

"Можно с вами на русском?" I ask to switch to Russian.

"Конечно!" they agree with a smile, usually. If not, then we try English, and once German. 

But usually, we settle in Russian, which means now both of us are speaking not our first language. 

Today, identifying the chair I wanted was fine, but communicating about how to get it from the store to my apartment was more of a challenge for both of us. 

Then I mentioned that I was also looking for a floor lamp, except that I don't actually know how to say that in Russian, so I said "a lamp that stands *gesture toward the floor and then up*". She was like 0.o, but then the idea I was trying to express clicked for her, but this store didn't carry them, but other stores nearby did, but she didn't know which ones. 

So I paid for the chair and said I would come back to pick it up in 30 minutes, which is unusual behavior for shopping in the US, but seemed totally normal to the staff of MegaOffice. 

Nearby, I found a living room furniture store that had lamps that stand! We started over with the language negotiation, then this saleswoman wanted to test the lamp before she sold it to me. The search for a lightbulb expanded to no less than four staff people, and someone finally found this totally ridiculously gigantic bulb, but it has the right threads for the socket. Test successful! 

But this store doesn't have a credit card machine, and I don't have enough cash. I'm ready to walk out at this point, but the saleswoman is committed, and I decide to stick around because it has been shockingly difficult to find lamps for sale at all anywhere I've looked. 

Can I do a bank transfer to one of the staff? My bank account is in Russia, so I don't think so. Is it Sber? No it's Raiffeisen. 

Can I pay cash to the driver who can deliver the lamp tomorrow instead of taking it in the cab tonight? Sure. 

We negotiate the pronunciation and spelling of my name, we find a messaging app we have in common. I give them two phone numbers, neither of which is local, but hopefully one of them will work. 

Then I went back to pick up the chair and we had a renegotiation about whether I would take the chair in the cab whole (her preference) or in two pieces (my preference). The compressed natural gas tank in the cab's cargo area voted with me. 

So I have a new, desk chair, much better than before, and maybe tomorrow I have a lamp. And I've been reminded that this is still a largely cash economy, so I should carry more than I have been. 

I've procured cash at the ATM, and I'll just plan to hang out at home tomorrow. I have lots of grading to do, so I'll be right here, in my new chair, humming the opening lines of "Arrival at Bath." 

 

Hark! Hark! Chair, chair! Where? Where?