“Have you ever seen a blooming tea before?” I ask my fish-customer. “No, well have a taste, and let me show you how it works.” I pour her a sample of this peach concoction, show her how the hand-tied seed unravels into an elegant blossom of tea and petals when it is introduced to hot water. The salesperson in me thrives on her expression of awe, looking inwardly at the big price that this tea will add to the ticket if she decides to buy it. My conscience sees a whole different picture: jars and jars of these seeds, how did they come to be? Were they hand tied by a factory worker in China? What do her hands look like? Are they blistered and chapped from touching that dry, sharp string all day? Is she being compensated, or is her time being robbed from her, going home every night with not even enough to provide food and shelter for her family? I cannot see any way that these seeds could be produced in a just way, at such high quantities. However, I cannot share these musings with her because the salesperson in me is getting more and more excited about making the sale. At this point, I decide to skip showing her other brewing options, because she is more excited about the tea itself. I lead her farther into this illusion of tea, this labyrinth in which the ultimate end is a greedy corporation. Next destination: FetCo 3.