Folks who know me always say I’m the gentle type. Sweet-tempered, easy to talk to. But here’s the kicker – when the work gloves come on, I turn into a whole different beast. Cross me on a deal? You’ll see me shut that cash register faster than you can say “discount.” Regular shoppers and small-time buyers never see this side. New customers? They’re all about comparing brands, hunting bargains. Half of ’em quit moxibustion before seeing results. The ones who stick around? Those are my people – tried every brand under the sun, finally felt what real quality burns like.
Now these big-shot wholesalers? Different breed entirely. Comes a guy waving purchase orders thicker than my arm, yapping about “market rates” and “volume discounts.” Thinks I’ll kowtow because he’s moving pallets? Listen here, hotshot – you throwing around terms like “15:1 compression” like confetti? You ever calculated storage costs for three-year aged moxa? Real deal at those prices would bankrupt Santa’s workshop. Want cheap sticks that crumble? The alley markets are that way. My gear? I use it myself. Period.
Had this character last month – swiped samples then whined about profit margins. “Plenty of suppliers” he says. Honey, my products don’t even play in that league. Honestly? Almost told him to mail back the samples postage-paid.
Cash rules the world, they say. Not in my workshop.
Here’s how I roll: You trust my craft? We’ll build castles. You squinting at every fiber? Don’t let the door hit you. That’s why I’m chasing global clients even when local orders keep me up nights – not just business, but finding my tribe. People who get that good things take time. Who’d rather build a legacy than chase quick bucks.
Why the rant? Phone rings at dawn – some “70w” overseas order. My first question? “You actually know how to spot quality moxa, or are you just flipping price tags?” Might’ve sounded like I was grilling a tax cheat. But real buyers? They appreciate the passion. The discount hunters? Let them learn the hard way when their customers come complaining. They always circle back – with ash on their faces.
Twenty years breathing moxa smoke taught me this: The hard road pays off. My clients? They become family. My business? Built on handshakes that mean something. And that’s how I like it – connecting with souls who’d rather eat noodles with dignity than feast with shame. Damn right it feels good.