Invisible Trade
I couldn’t help it. Simply couldn’t. The scruff-bag with the bandana around his head of straw hair and three day’s worth of stubble was too much to bear, being seen purchasing a book on Building a Business Empire for Hippies. (Yes, that title is perfectly made up.) But I had to give him credit for dreaming up such asinine nonsense on the train down from Bangkok. Besides, he looked like Rob Schneider, and I am almost certain a face like that would render anyone harmless to the fringes of localized corporate schemes (or real-politiking going on in the office). Which is usually a good thing.
“Well, so what’s it going to be? Your business, that is.”
He turns around to stare at me right in the eyes with a sort of glazed, weeded look.
“I’m afraid I must give you my apologies for not going to tell you. You see, it’s terribly classified information.”
I stare at him, mildly shock. Was that a rebuff? I was simply trying to be friendly. Or just being bored. Either way meant the same thing.
“You see, the information’s highly confidential. It’s so secret I haven’t found the key to unlocking it’s proposal yet. It’s been stuck at the back of my mind and no amount traveling around Asia has helped any-what, (and even the stresses of the most inefficient lavatory systems have proved to be useless.)
But if you have any suggestions whatsoever…”
I look about for some escape and see a bunch of the horrible trash that’s of late been touted as raw, real, social scrutiny under the best-seller’s shelf.
“Oh gosh. I’m absolutely vacuous when it comes to rubbish like that. Not at all the entrepreneur, but I do think the Invisible Trade is rather lucrative at the moment. Well, I do hope to see you on Fortune 100 in a few months," (or at least among the ranks of Heidi Fleiss).
By the way, I do not really think the book is intensely repugnant. It's just mildly so, I wouldn't want to give it That much credit. It’s god-awfully boring, and there’s nothing that’s being said that hasn’t been said before. If you really want to know what the Invisible trade is, the G-Spot suggests that you talk to the prostitutes at
I am sure Gerrie Lim did really talk to those girls, but how interesting can their views be when reiterated by someone else other then themselves? The problem with the book’s that it’s terribly void of feeling. Put shortly, it’s nothing more then a tease, an attempt to shock and to roll in the cash. It tells a lot about the girls, yet nothing about them.
xoxox
