I’ve gotta start charging for it, now that I’m in a relationship.
Until now, I’ve been giving it away for free; my attention and understanding, I mean. I do this nearly every night, shortly after Lori arrives home from the office.
“How was work?” I ask. I don’t really care, of course, any more than she cares about the quality of my workday. But that doesn’t stop her from telling me A) who acted like a jerk, B) who called in sick even though everyone knows he or she was really just hung over, C) how much unfinished work was piled on her desk at the end of the day and will be waiting for her there in the morning.
She gripes for a few minutes and then it’s all over and it’s time to uncork the wine and start supper. This is a scenario played out nightly in virtually every household in America, yet — until now — nobody’s figured out a way to make a buck from it.
It took the Chinese — the same people who can somehow manufacture an iPhone case and sell it on Amazon for .38 cents — to monetize bellyaching.
In China, for about five bucks a day, you can dial a number and whine to a person of the opposite sex (or the same sex, if that’s what blows you hair back) about your boss’ bad breath or the overdue Murphy contract that that young kid from the fourth floor is trying to steal away from you.
The person on the other end of the line will provide plenty of commiserating feedback like 可怜的宝宝 (poor baby), 这就是这么不公平 (that’s so unfair!) and 你是如此的权利生活太臭 (you are so right; life stinks!).
Basically, the same things I listen to Lori say every night for free, or used to before I found out I could entice her to open her wallet.
The quality and type of sympathy depends upon choices made while signing up for the service. Guys can choose a virtual girlfriend (that’s what they call ‘em) with personalities like “mature women”, “doll-like girls” and “girl next door.” Women can choose from “men in uniform”, “handsome men”, and “comforting men.”
Nowhere do they offer a “bitter ex-wife” model, which — if I know anything about ex-wives and I should since I have more than my share — would spit out remarks like “get over it!” and “grow up already!” But apparently nobody wants to pay five bills for that.
According to Zhang Xiaoli, head of the China Association of Mental Health and a man with far too many odd letters in his name, most clients are trying the service out of plain old curiosity.
I’m not so sure; I think there may be a real market for this sort of thing. I’ll know for sure tonight when Lori gets home.
If I wake up five bucks richer tomorrow morning, I may have to invest in a toll-free phone line and Paypal account.
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