How I did my part for the Turkish economy

Saeeda came to Turkey prepared with a list of items she wanted to purchase before we left. Evil-eye charms that are so prevalent here, some Turkish tea, a calligraphic wall hanging, and if possible, a small Turkish carpet.  In all our international trips, shopping has been an organic experience. We will inevitably find ourselves in a marketplace where something will catch our eye, or we will learn of a trinket that we feel defines the country we are touring, and we will make the purchase. Rarely have we set aside time dedicated to the pursuit of shopping for something specific.

This time around, though, things were a little different. As we have continued to spend time in Istanbul, Saeeda has fallen in love with the beautiful rugs that we see in all the stores that we pass. At the same time, we’ve realized that we don’t really know much about rug buying, especially since the nice carpets that we do own were wedding gifts. We confessed this naivete to our hotel concierge, who immediately recommended what he professed would be a great carpet-buying experience.  A friend of his worked at a genuine antique store that specialized in carpets, and this store was run by a family that had been in the business for three generations.

Yeah, ok, nice story, I thought to myself. It’ll probably still be the same song and dance these things are everywhere, and going with a “friend” of his that just happened to work at a carpet store was probably not going to lead to anything. Still, it would be an opportunity for us to educate ourselves before perhaps buying at a different store, and it would be a chance to avoid the Grand Bazaar area – that infamous, notorious tourist-trap that sits not far from the Blue Mosque and has been a merchant hub for centuries. Shopping there for a rug would be just asking to be fleeced. 

I told the concierge that we’d try to go to his friend’s store in the evening after we were done with our sightseeing for the day.  I was immediately reminded of this commitment upon our return to the hotel that evening.

“Sir, your car is ready,” said the concierge when he spotted us.

Car? What car? I learned that the carpet store where the concierge's friend worked had offered to pick us up.

“Ok, give us ten minutes,” I requested. We quickly washed up, came down, and walked outside to a waiting, well-appointed Mercedes.

Alright, I thought to myself. You’re hitting us with the Reciprocity Principle. Offer us a service that is, on the face of it, purely a gesture of goodwill, but will later make us feel like we need to reciprocate and make a purchase. Please, I thought to myself, you’re not dealing with an amateur here.

Still, the ride was smooth, and the modern car contrasted nicely with the ancient buildings we passed. Just make sure they give you a ride back if you don’t make a purchase, I reminded myself.

Our destination was tucked away in a quiet corner of the old city in Sultanahmet. A few cafes dotted the streets, and a side door, labeled simply "Antiques" led down into the store. A winding stairway suddenly opened up to an extremely large space that looked like it was part of a beautiful, old building basement. There were archways leading deeper into the space, and sandstone brick decorated with repeating, fading patterns decorated the ceiling. And there were carpets everywhere.

We were greeted by a lady who introduced herself as our concierge’s friend. She smiled at Nuha, and immediately picked her up to start playing with her. No sooner had she done so, than a smartly dressed, middle-aged gentleman appeared at the foot of the stairs, shook hands with us, and introduced himself as Salman, the store owner.

What followed was one of the most amazing sales jobs I have been subjected to, and despite my ability to recognize what was happening, I was unable to resist. Salman first gave us a tour of the building basement that we were standing in, discussing the history of the space that itself stretched centuries into the past. He sat us down beside a loom, and explained in detail the process by which a carpet is put together, taking the time to let us hold dyed yarn, pluck at the loom, and play with the texture of the partially woven carpet on the loom. A half hour later, he had us take a seat on comfortable cushions against a wall, at which point he started to educate us on the history of carpets, and their place in Turkish culture. Saeeda and I were captivated – Salman knew his subject well, and something about learning about carpets from someone who was third-generation, while sitting in a ancient space surrounded by beautiful rugs was mesmerizing. Tea appeared beside us magically as we continued to learn from Salman. Our daughter was nowhere to be seen, but we could hear peels of laughter emanating from the corners of the store as the concierge’s friend continued to play with her.

These guys are good, I thought. Nuha has been removed as a distraction, and Salman is doing a great sales job.

It was then that a muscled helper appeared bearing silk rugs. The large open floor space in front of us was empty, but this helper quickly began to fill it with a dazzling array of the most spectacular silk rugs. I had no doubt that this gentleman’s physique was due in no small part to the weight of these rugs that he carried around effortlessly. He would approach us and all of a sudden shake out a rug in the air. The rug would fall towards the floor as it opened and rolled towards us, landing at our feet as Salman switched conversation to discuss the new rug, telling us about the motifs, symbolism, source, and heritage of the rug. It was all a well choreographed dance.

An hour into our visit, the topic of price finally came up. I realized that I had to start moving this process along, as Salman showed no signs of slowing down. My blunt question, tactless, though it was, helped start the real buying process. When Salman mentioned the prices of the rugs splayed open before us, I had to do everything in my power to ensure that I did not bring up the tea I had been drinking. I will not name the number here, but suffice it to say, it was well beyond our reach. I felt Saeeda shift a little, and knew that she was working hard not to let things show on her face as well.

Now exercising more tact, I crafted the most subtle way of informing Salman that we needed to see something cheaper. I started by asking about other materials used to make carpets, and of carpets that came from other regions of Turkey. A smart salesman, Salman picked up on this, and began to show us carpets that were progressively lower in price, but which came with a simultaneous decrease in quality. It was also at this point that I knew I was going to make a purchase at this store. Don’t ask me to explain – the dynamics of the entire experience until that point had been such that it would have been impossible to walk out without making a purchase. My only goal was not to be goaded by the extremely high anchor that Salman had set.

So I did the untactful, and mentioned our budget to Salman. Ever obliging, he said he could help, and started showing us yet more rugs. As the floor space piled thick with carpets that Salman’s helper continued to bring, I realized that despite my stated budget, the rugs that Salman was showing us remained well above the number I had told him. Nicely done, I thought. Salman was using my number not as a ceiling, but as a starting floor for everything that he was showing me.

But the carpets were just … so … beautiful! I had never made a snap purchase of this magnitude, but nothing about the experience was high-pressure, nor did I feel at any point that I was being led on as the dumb tourist that could be taken advantage of. Salman was incredibly knowledgeable, and his staff amazingly friendly, a point driven home when Nuha came squealing around a corner, pecked us on the cheek and ran off with her store friends again. Man this was going to be hard, I thought.

In the end, despite my initial intention to use this simply as an educational experience, I made a purchase, and one that I feel will make a beautiful addition to our home. This was not a store where you bargained in price – I had picked up on this early, and this was something the concierge had also mentioned earlier in the day at the hotel. If you want to bargain, he had said, go to the Grand Bazaar. My friend is a wholesaler, and does business the right way, he had said.

Regardless, I spent way more than I had ever budgeted for this. Again, I will not mention numbers, but will tell you that I paid 500% more than the price I had initially told Saeeda I would shell out when we walked into that store. I had plenty of time to contemplate this as I signed all the paperwork, and when Salman personally drove us back to our hotel (in another Mercedes).

Sometimes it’s ok to be taken on a sales ride, especially if things are handled in a polite and entertaining manner. Or at least, that’s how I'm justifying what happened.