Selling is like Acting

Hong stood behind the counter in the big shopping mall, observing people wandering past her. In the counter rested bottles of hair growth products, and the shop sign shouted: Natural Glimmer, Make Your Hair Grow and Shine. Natural Glimmer was the brand name. She had been working here for a week, but she had sold nothing. Pulling her to the outdoor smoking area, the supervisor was about to lecture her on sales skills.

“Hong, you can’t be too shy. Promote our products to customers,” the supervisor, a bald man wearing a wig, instructed her. “We all have families to feed. Your skin needs to be thick. Be more passionate and warmly greet customers!” He puffed on the cigarette.

Hong nodded.

He pressed on. “Why are you always sullen? Smile. Show your smile to the passers-by. Who would want to buy something from a sale-person with a sad face.” Finishing the reproach, he tossed the cigarette butt into the trash bin, leaving Hong there alone.

***

“You’re nothing without me.” Her husband’s mean words often rang in her ears, stinging her heart. She became a divorced woman with a fourteen-year-old son when her husband abandoned her for a business woman. Until the day they split their assets, she had realized that almost no money was in the savings account. Their savings were all used to pay off the debt that her husband had. What was worse, she had not deposited any money since she became a housewife fourteen years ago. Social media influencers all shouted, “Don’t be a housewife unless you have no choice.” Each time she heard it, her anger flared in her chest.

Now, she felt like she was being tossed into a violent hole, falling deeper and deeper into an empty void. She once managed to convince her husband to buy an apartment with a mortgage, but her husband opposed it, citing the high price of houses in Beijing as an excuse. Lately, the biggest bother for her was the apartment rent for the following months.

After the divorce, she wept every day after her son went to school. At dinner, she sensed the loathing from her son as he glanced at her, then lowered his eyes instantly. Her son returned to his room as soon as he finished dinner, leaving bowls and plates on the table for her. She thought she made the home cozy. Yet, she never expected her ex-husband to accuse her home of being the dullest place.

The night seemed to be quieter after she switched off the light in her room. She sat on the edge of her bed and heard the occasional car whooshing past. Yet, the quietness of the night became unbearable for her as various voices in her mind argued with each other, which grew louder, sharper, and more intense. Briskly, she walked to the desk and opened her laptop.

She searched her old resumes in her email and finally found one. The latest work experience dated back to fourteen years ago as an admin assistant. She browsed the job website and sent as many of her resumes to companies as possible until the website showed no similar listed jobs. During the whole week, rejections cascaded into her inbox. The feeling of desperation flooded in her, and her husband’s words that ‘you’re nothing without me’ echoed in her ears again. Even when she shopped in the supermarket, she felt people’s eyes stinging at her.

Out of the supermarket, on a little square, a young man was distributing flyers. He made a dart toward Hong, warmly squeezing one flyer into her hands. “Sis, have a look! Our hair product is very effective. It can help your hair grow as black as a raven’s feather.” When she heard this, her brows knit; it was as if his words reminded her of her age. She bit her lips, reflecting that she was not young anymore.

The young man realized that he said it wrong and apologized promptly. “Sis, that’s not what I meant. Silver hair doesn’t mean being old,” he said. “I just want to tell you that you have beautiful hair, so you should put more care into your hair.” “I don’t need it, but still thank you.” Hong rejected his pitch and left. In the following days, the young man kept appearing at the little square, handing out leaflets. Each time, Hong just passed him quickly, and the young man grinned at her with a trace of apology.

Hong was sullen since she got no replies from any company. Her son locked himself in his room as soon as they finished dinner. She piled the bowls and plates in the sink and listened to the water gushing from the tap - a sound that could soothe her nerves. Worthless – a label her ex-husband had on her - repeatedly appeared in her mind, which became a gash on her skin. The water kept flowing. Suddenly, a loud buzz on her phone drew her out of her reverie. It was from the bank. An AI customer service voice announced that her credit card had been suspended due to overdue of payment. Hanging up the phone, she slumped into the chair. The landlord was tolerant, but he couldn’t wait any longer. Ultimately, he agreed with the promise made by her to pay the following three months’ rent at the end of the month. She had to prepare for the worst: if she and her son were evicted, where could they shelter?

Flipping through her phone, she didn’t find anyone who could offer help. She had cut herself off from her old classmates for more than ten years. Her self-esteem had been shattered to nothing after years of being a housewife while her classmates all had made great career achievements. She tried in vain to shut the voices arguing in her mind, leaving her temples aching. At that moment, her son dashed out of his room, trying to stop her pounding on her temples.

“Mom, stop,” her son grasped her hands. “You thought Dad would come back? You’re wrong. He left us because we’re so hopeless. Even if you killed yourself, he would not turn around.”

Hong froze.

She tossed and turned overnight. The three words - abandoned, worthless, and insane – perfectly described herself. Her eyes were open until the light bled at the edge of the curtains. She glanced at her phone, which showed six in the morning. As usual, she scrambled eggs, steamed some frozen dumplings, and boiled egg soup. After sending her son to school, on the way to the supermarket, she came across the young man again. This time, she didn’t avoid him; instead, she marched toward him.

“How can I work like you?” she asked.

Startled, the young man lingered with lips parted a little for a short while. “Sis, do you need a job?”

“Yes, any job,” she answered, her tone filled with resolution.

“Our supervisor is recruiting sales people. Would you like a try?”

“Yes,” she responded briskly.

The young man led her to a shopping mall in five minutes of walking. The supervisor was checking the products behind the counter. The slogan “Make Your Hair Grow and Shine” caught her eyes. The supervisor, with a chubby face, looked the same age as Hong. Yet, his hair drew Hong’s attention. He pressed on his head, whispering that it was a wig. He asked Hong several questions, told her the work schedule, and finally approved her request. She got the job – a salesperson who sold hair growth products.

***

After her work, she came to a haircut shop, where the barbers were busy cutting and trimming clients’ hair. As she pushed through the heavy glass door, the guest-welcoming bell clanked, and a woman barber greeted her with a warm smile.

“Sis, what kind of hairstyle do you want?” the barber asked, guiding her to the reception desk and showing her a board with prices printed on it.

“I want to shave my head bald,” Hong blurted after pausing for a short while.

The barber’s eyes were wide open. “Are you kidding? That won’t suit you.”

“I’m not joking. I mean it,” Hong insisted. “Please shave my head bald.” The barber confirmed once more with Hong, who insisted on doing that.

At the end, the barber led Hong to a seat in the farthest corner. Hong stared at herself in the mirror as if this were the farewell to her old self. When the scissor cut her long hair, it was as if she had cut ties with her past. The old days, like her hair, were tossed into the trash bin altogether.

“It’s done.” The barber announced, taking off the cape from Hong.

Rising from her seat, Hong gazed into the mirror and barely recognized herself. She fumbled in her tote bag, took out a wig, and put it on.

In her bag lay various styles of wigs her supervisor had given her – a completely dark, glossy wig, one with only a few strands of grey hair, and another with sparse hair. He had taught her to be clever and to know exactly when to wear each one.

“Selling is like acting,” the supervisor instructed her. “At first, you wear a wig with a few strands of silver hair, or one that looks sparse. People will believe it’s due to aging. Months later, you wear a wig with dark, glossy hair. But you must reveal to them that the change comes after using the hair product. Gradually, they’ll be convinced that your hair quality has improved…”

His lips moved up and down, slowly lulling Hong into a trance.

“This is a trick,” Hong whispered to herself. She had no choice when life went on and everything cost money. She tried to convince herself, even though she didn’t believe it at all. “Hong, selling is acting. Don’t forget,” the supervisor repeated.

The next day, Hong reminded herself to smile as soon as she saw a customer passing by her counter. “Come and try our hair products,” she greeted people moving past. As she thought of the late rent payment, she smiled more broadly and greeted more enthusiastically. Change of her gesture indeed drew more customers, who would linger longer before her counter. Yet, they were still suspicious about the effectiveness of these hair products.

She felt terribly frustrated and took a lunch break in the food court of the mall. A woman, who seemed to be in her fifties, video called with her friend. Hong didn’t eavesdrop on their conversation, but their voice could be heard clearly. The woman mocked herself about her grey hair; the other in the screen joked about herself, too. It turned out to be that these two women were both divorced, but now they were dating men. An idea struck Hong - why didn’t she promote her hair products to this woman? She pondered on this idea, but she was shy. The woman hung up the phone, sitting and scrolling on her phone. Hong rehearsed in her mind about what to say to this woman and then turned to her. As the woman rose up to go, Hong stood up as well and introduced her hair products. The woman was bewildered, shaking her head and turning to leave. Hong took out a bottle from her pocket, pointing to her own hair. “My hair has improved,” she cried out. “This is a free sample for you.” The woman paused and confirmed if it was really free. “Yes, free. You can visit my shop as you wish.” Accepting the free sample, the woman followed her to the store. Hong showed her more hair products and finally gave her a discount coupon.

Nevertheless, for weeks, Hong had not sold any products. No matter how many smiles she wore, no one really was convinced by her or the product. Her son locked himself in his room each time they finished dinner. One afternoon after work, as she found the door of her apartment ajar, her heart was in her throat. She remembered that she had locked the door. No thief would steal things with the lights on.

She froze, observing inside from the gap. She knew who was inside as she heard the low murmur. She stormed in and found that her ex-husband was fumbling in the drawer of the living room. He hadn’t returned his key to the landlord.

“What are you looking for?” She snapped, her voice brimming with rage. “I could report you to the police.”

He didn’t respond but still searched in the drawer.

Her anger was going to explode just like the lava of a volcano was about to spew. She stormed toward his back, punching on his back and shouting. “Bastard! Get out!”

He shoved her backward, and she plopped hard down onto the floor. A sharp pain jolted through her body. He pointed at her, yelling. “I’m looking for the gold ring my mother left.” Hong almost forgot this thing, yet her anger was ignited as he brought this up. “What ring? Your mother took it back before dying,” Hong choked on her words. “I hadn’t received anything from your family since I married you.” Her ex-husband lingered for a short moment and seemed to remember her mother taking the ring back. Without looking back, he strode out and shut the door. Hong’s tears poured out, and she stopped wailing when she felt her last trace of energy drain out.

She always banned her son from ordering KFC, which she thought to be unhealthy. Yet, now she chewed on a chicken leg. She was not like eating food; rather, she looked like a zombie chewing on a carcass.

“Mom, my classmate, Li Jun, saw you in the shopping mall,” her son said.

“So what?” she muttered.

“He told other classmates that you wore a wig,” her son said. “They thought you looked weird.”

“Weird? I was working,” she retorted. “To earn a living.”

Her son kept chewing on the hamburger. After a minute, he pressed on. “They all laugh at me. Do you know how it feels?”

Hong didn’t tell him that his bastard father came back one hour ago and about how his father treated her, but her son, instead, despised her for her work.

“I know how it feels,” she choked up. “But we need money for the rent, the food, and your school. Nothing matters. Put your dignity aside.”

Her son lowered his head and continued eating. The night was quieter than before.

The next day, when Hong was sorting the products in the counter cabinet, a woman dashed toward her, yelling. “Scammer. Scammer. You see, your product caused my hair loss.” Hong raised her head and recognized the woman right now, who was the one in the food hall yesterday. The woman was furious, standing before Hong and criticizing the products. As the woman ranted in a louder voice, more passers-by were drawn to Hong’s counter, as if they were watching a melodrama.

Hong couldn’t get a word in when the woman ranted nonstop. Her supervisor arrived, leading the woman into the cramped office behind the counter. Then, the crowd dispersed. After a while, the woman stepped out of the office, holding a bag, and her supervisor followed after.

“There is no next time,” her supervisor said, giving Hong an angry glance. He was not ruthless because he knew her hardship. After work, Hong went to the supermarket to buy materials for dinner. At the self-checkout machines, Hong heard a quarrel. Tracing the noise, she walked to the shelves of milk, where a woman was arguing with a supermarket staff. The woman claimed that the milk, which was beyond the expiration date, was still sold on the shelf. After checking the date, the staff apologized to the woman, but the woman didn’t let the staff go. At that moment, a manager of the staff came and gave several bottles of milk to the woman. Hong witnessed all of these. When the woman walked past her, Hong recognized her rapidly. It was the woman she quarreled with earlier. The woman didn’t recognize her and strode past her without a care in the world.

Hong dwelled on the woman’s behavior, but soon she rejected the idea. She would never do what the woman had done.

“Selling is like acting.” Her supervisor’s words echoed in her ears. Out of the supermarket, the wind whirled the dust up, and she pressed her wig firmly to march forward.