Friday, 15 December 2006

Ginseng grip (part 2)


Until now, I have been strong-willed, refusing to buy from anyone. I don't appreciate being told my health is in terminal decline, when I am just 41. Next to a 19 year-old, I might seem old. But I am not so frail and decrepit that I need to invest in ginseng juice or any other magic potion just to get out of bed.

Jay Pa joked with young Pon. 'The farang has a tough heart - he hasn't bought from anyone yet,' she said.

'I wish he could have a soft one,' she said.

So, here she was, banging on my door. When Maiyuu and I failed to answer, she spoke to someone in the next room. 'Where does the farang live?' she asked.

As there's only one of us in the building - me - and these people were right next door, I thought I had better answer. I told Pon that I would come with her, but she would have to give me 10 minutes to get ready.

'Fine - but I will wait here,' she said, declining my invitation to wait outside the condo instead. 'I called you six times this morning, but your phone was off,' she said.

I turned it off for a reason, I thought, but didn't say anything.

At the front door, Maiyuu took over on sentry duty while I was getting ready.

'What do you think you are doing, turning up like this, banging on the door and annoying people?' he demanded. I could almost feel little Pon wilt.

Fifteen minutes later, as we waited for a bus to Lad Phrao, she was still smarting.

'He speaks so bluntly. Why was he so mean?'

And the inevitable:

'Are you two together?' she asked.

'We sleep in separate rooms, but you knocked on his door,' I replied carefully.

Actually, I would not mind if she knew that Maiyuu was my boyfriend. She could then put her idle hope of forming a relationship with me to rest. As sweet and attentive as she is - on our first day together she romantically offered to peel me a banana - I cannot see myself getting together with a mere 19 year-old.

About 90 minutes later, we arrived at ginseng juice headquarters in Lad Phrao. The company, which makes millions of baht a year, has its office on the fourth floor of an ageing department store, comprising a rabbit warren of more than 60 tiny offices.

Pon and I walked past a large crowd seated on the floor in small groups. Some had clipboard files open on their laps, and looked as if they were giving a sales pitch.

We were ushered in to the seminar, which resembled the revivalist meeting of a charismatic church group, complete with uplifting music and stylised handshakes.

More than 100 delegates warmed up with games such as musical chairs, before taking turns to give inspirational speeches. Speakers talked about the disappointment they encountered as 'mere' salary or wage workers, before discovering that selling ginseng juice could change their lives.

However, I did notice the detail was lacking...I am not sure anyone's life had changed yet, with buckets of money pouring in, but they did believe in the hope that one day it might.

Recorded music swelled as they took the stage, and then again when they finished. When they descended the stage, delegates worked the crowds to get a hand shake.

Appreciative members of the audience offered a peculiar handshake, which members learn when they sign up.

First you shake hands in the conventional fashion. Then you grip the other person's open hand another couple of times, in a different position, and give it another shake.

Others wai profusely. This gesture was expected of me, too, whenever young Pon introduced me to her friends.

Later, a senior figure in the company observed that delegates had brought with them only one visitor that day - me. Other delegates may have invited friends or family to take a look too, in the hope that would get them interested in signing up, but unlike me, none was brave (or foolish) enough to attend.

now, see part three

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