On buying stuff in Beijing

Walk into a modern shopping mall in China and it looks like any other.
The shopping centres are mostly new, they are swish and they sell branded goods - many of which aren't even fake. Amazing.
But it is very different to what I'm used to. And the biggest difference is that they have no interest in making the customer's experience easy and efficient. Oh no. The primary function of businesses in Beijing often seems to be employing as many people as possible.
Rather than designing a streamlined, direct way to give people what the want and make sure they leave feeling good about their purchase, they like to prolong the process.
This week I found myself having to buy something (batteries, as it happens) and, not for the first time, had to jump through hoops just to give them my cash.
First up, I had to decide on which batteries I wanted. In this, I was assisted by four young staff who had been standing around until I approached the counter.
They tried to talk me into cheapo batteries but I forked out and extra two Yuan for a brand that might last a little longer than twenty minutes.
Once I'd made my choice, the four staff members realised that none of them had a key to the glass unit protecting the batteries and a manager was required. Two managers arrived on the scene and, fair play to them, they found the key, put it in the lock and turned it - but not without reigniting the earlier debate over which batteries I should buy.
Okay, that was a rigmarole but I was ready to leave. But when I took out the cash nobody would take it. Instead, they insisted on writing up a very detailed docket which had to be signed by a sales assistant under the supervision of, well, as many colleagues as possible.
I went directed towards the far side of the shop where two bored-looking cashiers were sitting idly. I gathered that I was to bring my receipt to the idlers but the team of sales reps were holding my batteries hostage until I had paid.
At the cash desk, both members of staff got involved in the transaction, with one of them taking the lead as a highly officious air descended on the pair of them. I'd think they were work-proud pros if I hadn't seen them yawning 30 seconds earlier.
The receipt was signed and stamped in triplicate, before each page was separated before being loosely stuck back together with the aid of a watery sponge. And so I was sent back to the sales team, who inspected the docket, put a copy in their drawer and returned a receipt to me with the batteries. Exhausting.
The batteries cost 12 Yuan (about €1.20) I can't imagine how long it must take to buy a car or a computer. Or many of them it must take to change a light bulb.