Admitting defeat and being Asian

Many months ago, I bought a wok. Coming from Oz where people cook with gas and we have an ancient black one, I purchased a cast iron one and set about burning the hell out of it. But...it never seemed to season properly because in Germania, people cook with electric stoves that are easy to detach from your apartment and take with you to your next apartment (srsly, that is weird). As a result, the burning in my wok is highly irregular, mainly being on the lower part where it is closest to the element. 

Sorta there...but not really...seriously, that's a fail of a seasoning

Despite the badness of the seasoning, I was able to use it to cook various noodle and stir-fry dishes that I and my (male) flatmates ate up. Anyway, I finally got fed up and scoured ways to repair this sad state of affairs. 


I trotted down to my local Asian shop and tried to explain to the woman in a combination of crappy Viet and German what my problem was and what my possible solutions could be. The shopwoman said I had clearly already figured out what my problem was - the electric stove - and the answer was to either buy a butane gas stove for frying or just throw out any attempt at authenticity and get a new non-stick wok set (with wooden utensils and a deep-frying draining rack. 


What happened next is a demonstration of pure Asianness - I said I had to think about it because the wok was only a few months old. She then said she felt sorry for me and would discount to wok from €16.50 to €15. She then cut negotiations short by asking me what I was doing in Germany. I said fuer die Arbeit. She then asked how old I was. I said dreizig Jahre alt. She then said, "My son is 30!" I paid for the wok and left the shop.