The evening after the Century Park adventure, I went to Nanjing Road to find some cheap street food in the perpendicular alleyways for dinner. I was going to head back home, but I was swept away by my curiosity to uncover more about the tea scam con artists I encountered a few days before. Many of them lurk around the nearby Bund, as it’s a popular tourist destination, so I picked up my tired feet and sniffed my way through The Bund. Within moments I was approached by two well-spoken Chinese people around my age while I was appreciating the nightly neon view of Pudong. To my surprise, one of them was the same girl that had tried to scam me before. They asked me to take their picture, and I agreed, and they began their same enthusiastic spiel: “Do you study here in Shanghai? Where are you from? You’re so beautiful!”

And I confronted them. At first they played dumb. “My English isn’t too good! I don’t know ‘scam!’” With a little reassurance that they could trust me, I kept prodding. And they answered.

Their names were Rita and Chunlei, both 20 years old. They lurk the Bund 7 days a week, 12+ hours a day, searching for foreigners to lure into their boss’ illegal tea house to convince them to pay ridiculously high prices (between 625RMB and 3000RMB based on their judgement of income) for an overly exaggerated tea performance using poor-quality tea, one highly exploitive of the traditional tea ceremony. If people refuse to pay, they would never use force or threaten them with violence, in order to avoid being shut down by the police. Rita and Chunlei introduced me to their 2 partners in crime, Sue (17) and Sushi (21), who were lurking around The Bund as well. The four of them work for the same boss.



Rita, Chunlei, Sue, and Sushi only get a small percentage of the earnings from each scam, and on days they get no “customers,” they receive no compensation. They had all migrated to Shanghai because of the prosperity and promise for opportunity, mirroring the reasons in the past for migration to America. With little luck finding jobs, they discovered this job online and use the money they make to support their families back home. Sue, sore from walking around all day in high heels (she doesn’t think she’s attractive without them), had come here from Suzhou when her family told her they had found a job for her in Shanghai, and she had no idea the nature of the work would be based on manipulation.

They hadn’t found any customers today, and they allowed me to tag along on their search for unlucky foreigners. After approaching about 10 different groups of people, 2 German women finally agreed to come to a tea ceremony after a couple minutes of enthusiastic conversation. I lingered in the background with Sue, wondering what was to come next.

We weaseled through a maze of alleyways and entered the tea house. A woman served us various teas brewed to imperfection, asking us to do ridiculous “lucky” rituals (hold the tea cup in a certain way, touch the frog that changes color from the boiling water, put the tea leaves under your eyelids to lift the bags from under your eyes, etc). The scammers oohed and awed. One of the German women played along enthusiastically, and the other (pictured) enjoyed the performance more introvertedly. Both were in Shanghai on business, and stayed at the Renaissance hotel near the Bund (this information later determined the price they would pay).

Before the bill came, the German women offered to pay for all of us to express their gratitude for taking them to this tea ceremony, and my heart sank. Observing this dynamic between humans was discouraging to the human condition. We so desperately want to trust people, yet the most kindhearted people are often the most taken advantage of. These women had no idea they were being fooled, and the boss stuck them with a 3000RMB bill.

The German women went into another room with Sushi and the boss, while we sat and listened. They went on to say how 3000RMB was about 500 Euros, and how absurd of an amount that was to pay for all of us. They continued to argue for 10 minutes while our room fell silent. I wondered if Rita, Sue, and Chunlei felt any remorse. The German women left paying 700RMB each.

The server tried to hand me a bill, but the scammers explained to her in Mandarin that I was a long time friend and didn’t have to pay. She stared at me in bitter curiosity, wondering why a foreigner was here. As we exited the tea house, the boss asked them what I was doing here. When they explained, he told them in Mandarin that I was crazy. Rita, Chunlei, and I left the tea house, and Rita offered to let me crash at her house as the Metros were all closed by this hour. I kindly declined her offer, and she helped me catch a cab after we all exchanged numbers. She told me we were friends, “pure” friends, and that no money was involved. I reflected on the night, feeling compassion for both the German women and the circumstances of the young scammers, and sadness for the human condition regarding trust and manipulation.

I thought about making a film to humanize these con artists, but we soon lost touch and there would be little I could film without trouble with the boss, so my ideas went onward.