...And Always Ask For The Sale!

No doubt about it: you see colorful characters of every stripe while frittering away an afternoon on the tourist beaches of Thailand. I don’t mean literally colorful, although there are enough tints of pink to red on visiting farang to color a sunset sky; but rather a quirky mix of nationalities, languages and, of course, personalities.

What makes it all the more entertaining is the endless parade of Thai locals as they make their rounds between the rows of sling chairs beneath the canopy of colorful umbrellas, plying their products and trades to all and sundry.

On one afternoon I observed at least two or three of EACH of these: foot, shoulder and body massage people, pedicurists, manicurists, people selling fruit, popsicles, ice cream, satay sticks, VCDs (both of the “adult” variety and mainstream), DVDs (same same), CDs, sandals, scarves, T-shirts, jet-ski outings, island outings, sunglasses, BBQ shrimp, Crocs in a rainbow of colors and I'm sure many, many more things I can’t immediately recall.

I suppose if they had a baht for each time they were told “no, thank you” over the course of their vending careers they’d retire with a nest egg larger than many who wave them away as if shooing away a fly circling their heads. As it is they make a humble but honest living and even the most cynical should admire their dedication and perseverance.

You quickly learn to avoid eye contact as they pass nearby (or risk finding yourself under full siege from all others in the area who sense an easy mark) but some come and stand next to you or at your feet, as if to wear your resistance down. For these more determined folk it sometimes seems there’s no understanding on their part of “no thanks”, even in their mother tongue.

One young man in particular comes to mind; a man I thought had more patience than sense at the time, but I had to admire his determination.

He appeared in my peripheral vision as I was admiring the physique of a couple of 30-ish Thai men at the water’s edge; and while I deliberately didn’t make eye contact with him, he stood at my feet and stared at me for a couple of minutes until there was no gracious way to go back to my book and ignore him without feeling rude. Looking just over the top of my book I could see he had on clean denim jeans and a long T-shirt that’d been well laundered from black to dark gray. Still only viewing him indirectly it looked as though he was carrying a stack of papers or something. Throwing better judgment to the warm afternoon breeze I looked up at his face.

Soft dark eyes looked back at me from a handsome but somewhat somber face, peeking out from beneath a curtain of long dark brown bangs. He didn’t break into the salesman smile I was expecting, but instead lifted the bundle up to his belly level where I could see it looked like a stack of over-sized construction or craft-paper cards, each covered on the outside with a colorful fabric.

With no change of expression he opened one of them and a sort of doily-style yellow paper cut-out of an elephant rose from the center of it, making a distinctive crackling sound as it opened and the edges moved against each other. He stopped and stood, motionless, watching me look at the card. I looked at the elephant, up at his face, back at the card, then back up at him. “No thank you,” I said – somewhat regretfully – expecting him to close up “shop” and move along out of my view… but he didn’t.

Still stone-faced he slipped the elephant card to the bottom of his deck and opened the next card. A small square two-toned building stood up from inside the card, making the same sound the elephant did. Again he stopped and stood there looking at me, card splayed open for my consideration. “No thank you,” I said a second time “not today.”

He closed the card, moved it to the bottom of the stack and opened a third card, this one with a different elephant, larger and orange this time. Again the expressionless look and again my refusal but I was getting a little uncomfortable, wondering if he was "all there" mentally but not wanting to appear impatient or impolite. He gave no indication of being stoned, drunk or unhappy, and I was puzzled.

We did this a few more times until it was getting to be humorous and I was laughing while waving each new card off, waiting to see if he’d break a smile to share the silliness of the whole situation. After all, he was a handsome guy and probably had a dazzler of a smile, if he’d just let loose with it. No such luck.

“Aha!” I thought to myself, as he was getting ready to open card number eight “Maybe if I make like I’m going to take his picture he’ll go away to avoid it or smile to try and make the sale!” I had my camera out and open, so I put it in front of my face, smiled at him and said “yim” (smile) while I focused on him. Nothing.

I took a picture (he didn’t visibly move a muscle) and then set the camera down, sitting up the best one can in those beach-side sling chairs and stared back at him, squarely in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said as firmly as I could without being rude “but I don’t want to buy anything now.” I took out one of the quarter-folded 20 baht notes I keep in my pocket for just such things and handed it to him, trying to soften the rejection. “Good luck today, though” I said with a smile, and he turned and moved a couple of steps away from me, scanning the chairs ahead for his next stop.

What I learned later from a couple of regulars there was the guy was deaf. Deafness can be one of those "hidden" disabilities so without him saying anything (and if he's deaf there wasn't anything so odd about that, it was his expressionless face that seemed odd) there was no way of my knowing it. I'd run several scenarios by in my head – just broken up with his girlfriend, was hung over but hid it well, that sort of thing – but I'd missed the possibility of his being deaf.

What makes this a story worth telling is this: two years after I’d taken that first stone-face photo I finally went back to sit on the same spot, carrying a print I’d had made the day before – and what do you know: here he comes, cards in hand. He now carries a small sign explaining he’s deaf and selling the cards for a living. I was able to finally buy a half-dozen cards from him, and get him to smile.