Ginseng grip (part 1)

After midday on Sunday, Maiyuu and I were woken by a loud banging noise at the door. This was unusual. We do not get many visitors. If one of Maiyuu's friends downstairs wants something, he or she will usually call.

Maiyuu does not like being woken up. After he rises it can take an hour before he can speak civilly.

As he peered through the peep-hole in the door, I joined him by his side.

'Who have you come to see?' he called out.

'The farang,' said a quiet voice, which I recognised.

'Oh, that's the girl from the direct sales company,' I said.

Maiyuu gave me a foul look, and walked away.

I did not want to answer the door either, as I knew what the girl wanted. I met Pon, 19, at the massage shop in my market a few days before. She had persuaded me to accompany her to a training seminar which her direct-sales company was holding in Lad Phrao.

Pon, who comes from Laos, lives with an old woman in the massage shop. I had hoped Pon would forget about our appointment, but I should have known better. She might be young, and her physical stature tiny, but she was nothing if not determined.

'If you don't already have a girlfriend, I would like to be her - I'm asking here and now,' said Pon, the day we met.

I had dropped by at the invitation of the owner, who wanted me to meet an air flight attendant friend.

The stewardess brought her mother, and after their massage the four of us - the owner, the stewardess, her Mum and me - went for a noodle.

The stewardess wore a thin skirt, almost see-through in the daylight. She was pretty, but assertive. Previously she lived with a farang, but they had now broken up. I did not ask many personal details, as I doubted our relationship would last much longer than our lunch.

While I was talking to the stewardess, young Pon entered. Her face, cute as a button, is framed by long hair.

'Hello,' she said. 'Who are you?'

After the stewardess and her Mum left, Pon and I spent an hour spread on a mattress reading self-help books.

Pon likes to read, she told me. Later, we ate noodles in the market, and she invited me to a seminar on selling ginseng juice (โสม).

'I am sure you'll love it,' she said, giving me an assertive look which dared me to say otherwise.

Pon lives with an old woman in the massage shop where I met the air stewardess. The massage shop occupies the bottom half, while Pon and the old woman live above.

Pon, who spends most her spare time with the direct-sales people, showed me their catalogue, and gave me the hard sell. Ginseng, she said, would be good for my fading health.

Later, the shop owner - Jay Pa, a mother in her 40s - told Pon off for being so forward.

'It is impolite to try to pressure the farang into buying. He is older than you, and you have just met,' Pa said, talking to her like an older sister.

Pon listened obediently and did not complain.

'You can't treat everyone as a potential sale. If you treat them as friends rather than customers you could know them longer.'

This was impressive advice coming from Pa, as she is a member of the same direct sales company.

In fact, almost everyone in that massage clinic is selling for one pyramid sales company or another. One half sells ginseng, while the rest sell for Giffarine, a beauty therapy and herbal products company (กิฟฟารีน).

now see part 2