APT Speed Course

Old Wang was forcibly dragged into the "APT speed course."

He had worked at this Shanghai hot pot restaurant for nearly five years, evolving from a clueless newbie who only knew how to swish lamb into a "veteran" waiter. Life was pretty good; he just greeted guests and eavesdropped on gossip. But ever since the restaurant started this "international transformation," everything changed.

"APT? What the heck is that?" Old Wang muttered, scratching his perpetually messy hair.

The instructor was a tall, thin young man with rimless glasses, who liked to push them up his nose when he spoke. "APT stands for 'Advanced Persuasion Techniques'!" he announced, displaying various flashy charts on a PowerPoint. "This is our restaurant's secret weapon to attract Korean tourists! Master APT, and you'll hold the key to wealth!"

Old Wang didn't quite understand. APT, in reality, was a series of exaggerated body gestures, coupled with some broken Korean phrases. For example, the moment a guest walked in, you had to wave your hands enthusiastically as if greeting a long-lost relative, constantly shouting "Annyeonghaseyo-ssimnida!". When taking orders, you had to point at the menu, widen your eyes, and make smacking sounds of admiration, as if the guests were ordering not just hot pot, but some divine delicacy.

What Old Wang found most unbearable was the "emotional marketing." For instance, if a guest ordered a plate of sliced beef, he had to express an exaggerated emotion, as if he was witnessing the tragic life of the cow, then say in a near-choked voice, "This cow! It has had it so tough! You must savor it well!"

He thought it was insane. But the instructor said, "This is professionalism! We must make our guests feel our sincerity, and make them believe that we're not just selling hot pot, but an emotion!"

Old Wang reluctantly studied for a few days, feeling like a clown. He practiced waving, nodding, and winking at the mirror, mimicking the instructor. His weathered face was filled with exaggerated expressions not suitable for his age.

"Annyeonghaseyo-ssimnida!" he shouted at the mirror, feeling his throat about to split.

"No, no, too stiff! You need to put some emotion into it! Make the guests feel your enthusiasm!" the instructor corrected him from the side.

Old Wang felt exhausted. He secretly complained to his old colleagues at the restaurant, "This is not about selling hot pot, it's about acting!"

The old colleagues nodded in agreement, "Yeah, we have to play the fool every day, it's so tiring!"

But to keep their jobs, they all had to bite the bullet and continue the act.

After a few months, the hot pot restaurant's business improved significantly, attracting many Korean tourists. They enjoyed watching the waiters' exaggerated performances, finding it an interesting cultural experience.

Old Wang gradually got used to the acting. Every day, he moved like a wind-up toy, repeating the same actions and lines. He started losing the sense of whether he was genuinely enthusiastic or simply acting.

One day, a special guest arrived at the restaurant, a stern-looking old Korean man. As usual, Old Wang waved his hands enthusiastically and shouted, "Annyeonghaseyo-ssimnida".

The old man frowned and said in fluent Chinese, "Can you speak Chinese?"

Old Wang was taken aback and instinctively answered, "Yes, I can."

"Then why didn't you?" the old man's tone was stern.

Old Wang was speechless. Looking at the old man, he suddenly felt like an idiot.

The old man added, "I came here just to eat authentic Shanghai hot pot, not to watch you guys act."

Old Wang lowered his head, filled with shame.

That night, Old Wang had a dream. He dreamt he had become a manipulated puppet, repeating the same actions and saying the same lines every day. He wanted to resist, but realized he had lost his freedom.

The next day, Old Wang quit.

He left the "international" hot pot restaurant and found a small noodle shop. There, he didn't have to learn APT or pretend to be something he wasn't. He simply made noodles, greeted customers, and sometimes chatted with them casually.

Although he didn't make much money, Old Wang felt comfortable. He had found his true self again.

Years later, while Old Wang was sitting in his own noodle shop, sipping wine and watching TV, he saw a news report.

The news said that the once-successful hot pot restaurant, due to over-reliance on APT marketing, had lost its customers' interest, leading to a dramatic decline in business and eventually forced to close down.

Old Wang smiled, shook his head, and found the world a fascinating place. He picked up his wine glass, toasted the moon in the sky, and whispered, "Annyeonghaseyo-ssimnida." Then he laughed again, this time genuinely.