Marsha picked up one of the containers and got the attention of the guy manning the booth.
“Hi. So, what is “cruelty-free” hummus?”
“Well, in our process we don’t smash or grind the chickpeas. We lightly massage them one-by-one until each breaks down into a paste-like substance. Then, of course, we add the olive oil, lemon juice, tahini, and seasonings.”
“So, if you don’t mind me asking: Why?”
“Well, we believe each chickpea has a soul, and that lightly massaging each one individually into a paste is the most humane way to send that soul on to its next plane of existence.”
He looked at Marsha. She stared back at him, unsure of how to respond. She had never before considered the soul of the chickpea.
He stared back earnestly for a few seconds, then burst out laughing.
“I’m just messing with you! We just use that method because it makes it taste better. Here, try a sample.”
He handed her a small pita wedge with some hummus smeared on it.
It was the best hummus Marsha had ever tasted. She immediately bought five containers of it.
It was a win-win. Marsha got some super tasty hummus–“addictive”, as she liked to call it–as well as a fun story to tell about its purchase. And Randy made some sales, and got confirmation that his adding-a-dash-of-cocaine-to-the-hummus-“seasonings” gambit totally worked.