Ah, Singapore. I just phoned The Chocolate Box to try to place a delivery order to a morose friend:

“Hi, I’m calling from New York, and want to find out if I can order some truffles from you to send to a friend over there?”
“Yah, can, but I’m not too sure how we can do it.”
“Uh?”
“Yah, I’m not too sure about the mode of payment.”
“Well, I’d give you my credit card number.”
“Yah, we can’t do that. You have to come down here and present your card.”
“Oh. So I can’t actually order from here and have you deliver.”
“Yah, no.”
“Um. Ooookay. Thanks.”
“Yah.”

I don’t know if that’s as good as or better than the time I needed an emergency manicure (long story involving what turned out to be so a non-date with a guy who turned out to be so married): I went to the Seiyu girl in Bishan Junction 8, but she couldn’t do it because she had another appointment in five minutes, so I said, “Do you know if I can get it done anywhere else around here?” and she said, “Why don’t you go outside and see?” Oh! Thank you! (Bow.)