Day -13: Bitches and beauty scams

Was stumbling around Causeway Bay on Saturday looking for a hostel for Nasty, when this lady came up to me.

Lady, eyeing my shirt: “Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking, can you tell me what sized shirts you wear?”

I immediately hugged my bag and eyed her suspicuously. “Medium. Why?”

Lady: “Oh well, I work for a merchandising company and we are always looking for fitters to work with our designers to try on clothes, and you seem to have the shoulders that we look for. If you don’t mind me asking, are your shoulders 14 inches?”

WTF? How am I supposed to know?! “I have no idea.”

Lady: “Well if you don’t mind, we’d really like to measure your shoulders, and take other measurements to see if you fit our requirements. We pay $100 + an hour for fittings and we call you whenever we have a job for you and you can come after work….Where do you work? What is your job? Do you get off on time?”

Me: “I work in Wan Chai. I get off at 6pm sharp.”

Lady starts guiding me across the street. “Well, our offices are just across the street. I hope our measuring person has not gone home yet. If you’d come up now, we can measure you and let you know if you fit. If not, you can just leave. If you do fit, we’ll talk to you more about the job, etc.”

Me: “What? Follow you into a building? Are you for real? I think you’re gonna kidnap me.”

Yes, I DID say that.

Lady: “Kidnap you? Of course not! Don’t worry, we’re just right across the street, over there….”

Me: “I don’t even know who you are. Do you have a card?”

She gives me her card: Ada Tang. Merchandiser. With an address just across the street.

Thinking having extra income wouldn’t hurt, I followed her. She pointed out that the name of her company is listed in the building directory, and there is a security guard sitting in the lobby.

We rode the elevator. In the units next to hers are publishing companies, a clinic, and the like. Looks legit.

Her company is swathed in racks of clothes. Drawings of designs. Samples everywhere.

They put me in a room and some other person comes in to measure me.

Then they make me wait. And wait. And wait.

I decided to text a friend to tell her where I am in case I do get kidnapped. heh.

I read a magazine.

Then this different lady with a face buried in make-up walked in all smiles, holding the sheet with my measurements.

Lady beams: “Hi! I’m Ada!”

Ada again? Do they all use the same name card?!

Lady: “So, what size do you normally wear?”

Me: “Medium.”

Lady: “Oh really? But you look like a size S!”

Me: “I wear medium.”

Lady: “Oh! Maybe you like to wear looser clothes? What about Japanese or Korean clothes? Maybe you’re a size S in Japan?”

Does my shirt right now look baggy to you?

Me: “No, I don’t know what my size in Japan is. And I don’t wear baggy clothes. But I’ve always worn medium.”

Can we move on please?

Lady stares at the sheet of paper: “Oh well, it’s ok. You must be small-medium, medium-small….it’s ok!” She beams.

How can I be a fitter if we can’t agree on my size? Can’t she just tell from the measurements? Anyways….

Lady continues to describe the work expected of me. Trying on clothes. Designers measuring me. Me giving comments on where things fit and where they don’t. Etc etc.

Lady: “Oh, sometimes we might have night-gowns and wedding dresses too. Would you mind trying those on? We will pay about $600-$700 for wedding dresses.”

$600?!?! Of course not! I’d wear anything! Sure!

Lady: “Well, for the night gowns and wedding dresses, we will need to take photos because we need to show clients what our merchandise look like……

Okaaaaaay….

Lady: “……so we might need to go out to appropriate locations to shoot…….”

Okaaaaaay….

Lady: “…..and to do that you will need to wear make-up……”

Okaaaaaay….

Lady: “You don’t mind wearing make-up do you?”

I get friggin paid! Of course not.

Lady: “Do you know any make-up artists? Or any friends who can do make-up?”

Huh? WTF? No.

Lady: “Do you normally wear make-up?”

No.

Lady: “What?! Really?! Wow! Not even to work!?!?”

No.

Lady: “Do your friends wear make-up?”

Yes.

Lady: “Then why don’t you wear make-up?”

Because I don’t like to. I don’t have the desire to. I don’t need to.

Lady: “Hahaha…wow…that’s really rare! Maybe you grew up with lots of brothers?! And your mom also doesn’t wear make-up?!”

No. I have only one brother. And my mom wears make-up.

And lady, this is getting fucking tiring. Move on or I’m leaving.

Lady: “Hahaha….oh, I hope you don’t mind me asking. hahahhaa….I’m just trying to make conversation….hahahah…..”

I stared at her blankly.

Lady: “Well, anyways, in order to do the shoots, you’ll need to wear make-up. You don’t mind right?”

No. I said I don’t. I don’t wear make-up myself. But if I’m getting paid for it, I don’t care.

Lady: “Well good! So, in order to get the make-up, you’ll need to join a beauty salon. How much would you  be willing to pay?”

WHAT?! PAY? WTF ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I’M NOT PAYING FOR ANYTHING!

Lady: “Huh? Well, you said you don’t mind!”

I said I don’t mind being made-up. But I’m not going to pay for it.

Lady: “Well, we pay you for the fittings and we provide the photographer…..do you know any make-up artists, or friends who can do make-up?

So? No.

Lady, STILL beaming: “Well, then we need to get you made up somehow and the only way to do that is to join a beauty salon. You know, they always have these promotions where you sign up for facials and beauty care and they provide free make up. Do you normally do facials?”

No.

Lady: “Wow! So you don’t do facials? You don’t have any beauty care routines etc?”

No.

Lady, glanced at my data: “hahaha….well, at 27 y.o., I think it’s time you do something about it! hahaha”

Ok. So far, I’ve tolerated her and where she’s trying to lead me. But to tell me that I NEED to do something about my face?!

Fuck you lady. Every single person I know tells me I have great skin (whether they’re being honest or not, I don’t know. But at this moment, I couldn’t care less). And I attribute a large part of that to the few shit I put on my face. So no, you lady-with-a-fuck-face-caked-with-two-inches-of-ugly-unflattering-make-up, don’t tell what I need to do with my skin and my face. Fuck you.

Me: “So are you telling me that, unless I find my own make-up person, or join your beauty thing and pay for make-up, I won’t be doing any fittings for you?”

Lady, STILL beaming: “Basically, yes.”

Me: “Ok, I won’t. And I’m leaving. Bye.”

.

  1. I’m way too nice. The italics are my thoughts. I was actually being very polite with her. I really am way too nice.
  2. Scammers, if you wanna sell beauty salon memberships to anyone, please pick someone who looks like they’re wearing make-up ok? You really don’t pick someone stumbling around in fashion town in flip flops and frizzy hair when everyone around is done up ok? Or is it I look stupid and gullible?
  3. And lady, you’re fucking ugly.
  4. Maybe I AM gullible.
  5. I really need to start being meaner.
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