I'm A Lucky Man

If you're a Caucasian living in Hong Kong, you can count on being accosted in the streets by an Indian fortune teller con man.

The usual patter begins like this:

Excuse me Sir, but I can tell by looking at you that you are very lucky man.

This opening gambit is calculated to guarantee a response, after which the fraud will attempt to convince you to give him money to tell your future.

The first time it happened to me, I was taking photographs in Admiralty: not a hopping tourist spot. The guy kept yakking while I was losing the light, yet I remained polite while trying to brush him off.

The second time my wife and I were taking a stroll on the Tsim Sha Tsui waterfront. She was bewildered when the guy approached out of nowhere and started talking. As soon he said "lucky man", I said "I know" and walked away. She was concerned I was being rude until I explained it was a scam.

It doesn't take long before the flimflam stops being a minor annoyance. Being a foreigner means being a target, just like with the copy-watch and tailor touts.

Now I'm prepared with a standard remark.

Any time some schmuck on the sidewalk tells me I'm a very lucky man, my reply will be: yeah, lucky I don't have to stay to listen your BS.

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