A glass full of integrity
I am not one of those who’d engage in a conversation with a juice hawker. But this one had been around for quite sometime. Years went by and his family still slept in the shop where they sold their fruit juice. So my question was more economically inclined than personally intrusive.
“Why don’t you display uncut fruits outside the shop window to lure customers like other juice vendors do?” I asked.
“They are dishonest people.” He replied and continued: “How can pomegranate juice be a 10 bucks, when the fruit is so expensive?”
I nodded in agreement.
He added while packing fresh juice for me: “It is not juice that they sell, but their own integrity.”
On the way home, I thought about how they don’t make people like him anymore. Such honesty and integrity deserve rewarding. I promised myself to always buy fruit juice from him.
I emptied the orange juice into a tall glass, took a sip and nearly choked.
No sugar, no water: it was pure juice. It was so pure that it was bitter.
I thought about the oddity here and understood. I have gotten so much used to drinking sugared colour for juice that it is impossible for me to gulp down a glass full of integrity.
Perhaps that’s why he remained poor.