Flattery or Manipulation: A Coffehouse Tale

*The following is a scheduled article.  Until noted otherwise, my ability to access the internet has been completely cut off*

Last year about this time my wife and I were invited to the grand opening of a local bakery/coffee shop. Usually we shy away from such invitations because in most cases our presence is a publicity stunt (we’re the only westerners in our city), but we agreed this time due to the owner being the mother of one of my students.

The celebration was quite larger than we expected and included a firecrackers display the likes of which I have never witnessed before (I posted a video of these Chinese firecrackers soon after). Also part of the festivities was a cake the size of a pool table nicely decorated and manned by an award-winning chef shipped in from Hong Kong to give the new place credibility. Medals hung from his neck as if he were some Olympic champion. While pictures of he and his cake were being snapped, we were “asked” – or rather pushed – to join him and smile. We grudgingly complied and quickly left.

Fast forward to last week when a friend and I decide to grab a cup of coffee one bitter cold afternoon. The moment we stepped into the shop, a place that I had been to a couple times before, a noticeable excitement began to fill the room. Ignoring these stares and whispers as an unusual amount of foreigner-fever we went upstairs and had our coffee. It wasn’t until our way back out that I realized what all the commotion was about.

 

Immediately next to the entrance of the shop was an enormous portrait of me, my wife and the now-absent chef from back in 2008 hung for all to see. To make matters worse, besides being surprised by a gigantic photo of myself, I realized that I had walked in one year later wearing the exact same winter garb. Fashion is not my middle name, I admit.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” the cashier asked me while pointing to the picture. I couldn’t very well deny it, so I smiled sheepishly while she and her workmates giggled. I ought to be paid for that obvious exploitation is what I wanted to say, but I decided to just let it go.

As it turns out, flattery isn’t the only means by which they decided to repay me…I also now get a hefty discount on my coffee!