The Boss of the Street-Side Stall
- Apr 13
- 3 min read
On a modest roadside, where the scent of oil and spices drifts lazily through the air, sits a small snack stall that locals know by heart. At its entrance, a movable stove bubbles gently with familiar favorites—deep-fried tofu, braised vegetarian chicken, marinated radish, skewered kelp, and crispy fried broad beans. Perched on a small stool beside it is the owner, a 57-year-old man with a strikingly dignified appearance. Today, however, he is not focused on his food. Instead, he is threading a fishing hook with quiet concentration, preparing for a peaceful escape later in the day.
His stall opens only in the afternoons and evenings, so his mornings are reserved for preparation. With meticulous care, he grinds garlic into a fine paste, chops fresh cilantro, and blends sesame oil with chili sauce—each condiment crafted to perfection before being stored neatly in the refrigerator. By the time noon arrives, everything is ready. The rest of the day, until business begins, belongs to him.
But cooking is only one part of his life.
“I actually have another job,” he says with a confident smile. “I’m in the internet business.”
Curiosity invites explanation, and soon he begins to describe his involvement in what he calls the “future of sales”—a direct-selling industry. (Though to an outsider like me, it might resemble something closer to multi-level marketing.) He speaks in the language of the trade: pipeline income, mutual support, shared prosperity, spreading love. The product he promotes is a health supplement, one he insists is suitable for all ages and capable of strengthening the body.
He believes in it wholeheartedly.
Following the basic principle of the business, he first became a customer himself. As his “leader”—the general manager of the organization—once said, “If you haven’t tried it yourself, how can you confidently share it with others?” So he signed up as a member, purchased the products, and began his journey.
To grow the business, he needed a team.
He started with those closest to him—his wife, his working son, and his daughter—all of whom bought the products and became part of his network. He attends countless meetings, moving from one gathering to another, listening intently to passionate speeches from fellow members who share their success stories. Each time, he leaves feeling certain that he is on the brink of extraordinary wealth—perhaps even becoming the richest man in the world.
At home, he ensures everyone participates. He takes the supplements himself, encourages his wife to take them, sells them to his children, and even gives them to his granddaughter. The nutritional labels may be difficult to understand, but to him, they represent trust and promise. He urges his children to bring in friends and classmates, expanding the circle further.
As he talks, he continues pounding garlic, his movements steady, his voice filled with ambition. The future, in his eyes, is bright and full of possibility.
Then, as if switching roles entirely, he sets everything aside and heads out with his fishing gear. Fishing is his greatest hobby, his quiet refuge. He doesn’t return until around four in the afternoon.
By three, however, his wife has already lit the stove, beginning the slow simmer of the day’s offerings. As evening falls, customers trickle in, then gather in steady numbers. The boss returns to his post, fully immersed in his small but lively business—greeting patrons, preparing each dish with care, and serving simple, satisfying food.
His life is ordinary, balanced between dreams of great fortune and the steady rhythm of daily work.
And somehow, in that blend of ambition and routine, it is also quietly full of hope.
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