On thinking

In a previous life, it would've bugged the hell outta me. I was buying a handbasket of groceries at Carrefour, including a small sleeve of CDs and a necktie, each with a magnetic security device: the CDs had a button looking thing that sat like a bow on top of bisecting loops of wire, and the necktie had the same sort of device plugged through the loop on the back.
Each register is equipped with a shiny, round gizmo that looks remarkably like the security device, save that where the button tied to the CDs is convex, the deal on the register is concave.
Guess what happens when the two meet.

So it was nearing my time to feed and sleep, which corresponds surprisingly well with the time the deli food is offered at greatly reduced prices as the employees wrap up for the night, which is to say, it's the end of anyone's shift.
And the girl at the checkout has to call a manager for help. There's this thing blocking off the barcode on the necktie!
The manager shows her how to mate the button and its release.
True, heartfelt amazement on the checker's behalf. The manager does not seem frustrated or exasperated in the least.
We go through the bottle of coke, baggie of soup, baggie of pork, baggies of fruits and veg, and we get to the CDs. There's this thing blocking off the barcode!
Wait for the manager, who with no visible impatience shows the girl how to connect the button to its release, then how to unwrap the wires holding it to the CDs, then scan the discs and toss them in the bag. No apparent frustration or exasperation.

I figured it was an example of someone whose intellectual prowess couldn't drive her much above checker level. But then a coworker was bragging about his kid: at 18 months or so, old enough to walk and say a few words or names without reaching full sentences, the kid is the only one in the age 1-5 daycare who knows how to operate a doorknob. The other kids haven't been taught, and trying it out simply isn't done.
What to say....
No, how to say it without saying it....
um, uh....

Okay, on the one hand this culture operates under values and customs completely alien to mine. Which is fine, and I do my best to respect.
On the other, this is exactly why it's hard not to laugh when farangs ask me why I haven't hooked up yet.
Maybe it's another sign that, thus far, I'm the only person in Thailand who finds it humorous to respond to "Poot Thai, dai mai" (can you speak Thai?) in Thai, with, "No, I'm a foreigner, see how white? Of course I can't speak Thai. When I say horse it sounds like dog, when I say tiger it sounds like shirt, when I say cave it sounds like sleeping mat."