China’s Anger Release Stores (this is not a Monty Python sketch)
If I had a file labeled “True Story or Monty Python Sketch,” this story would be in it:
Online anger-release “stores” have become extremely popular with young netizens, as shop owners are paid to listen to complaints, confidential secrets and even scoldings from customers.
More than 400 online stores are offering anger-release services, according to a keyword search on Taobao, the major domestic online market in China.
Depending on the price, the service offers a customer the chance to complain to the worker within a limited period without any boundaries as a way of releasing anger or stress.
Normally, it costs about 1 yuan (15 cents) for a 10-minute period, in which the customers are allowed to say and complain about anything they want, even saying curse words.
I don’t know what this says about folks in modern China that they have no better release for their anxieties than a stranger on the other end of a phone/Net connection. For people that are angry, I suppose this sort of thing avoids confrontations, but on the other hand, I don’t see this solving any problems either.
I can’t help but wondering what ever happened to the more traditional releases for stress. The benign ones (e.g., exercise/outdoor activities, reading, watching television/movie, sex) still sound like good ideas to me, and there are a lot of options out there, even if you take some of the scarier stress relievers off the list (e.g., binge drinking or eating, beating on someone, driving while angry, substance abuse, random verbal abuse, homicide).
Well, one yuan is pretty cheap, so I suppose as long as some profit is being made, then there’s no harm in a bit of online abuse. You do know, however, that this sort of thing will eventually make its way into a comedy television show or movie. They could save time by simply translating some old Python, though, such as The Argument Clinic:
| Receptionist | Yes, sir? |
| Man | I’d like to have an argument please. |
| Receptionist | Certainly, sir. Have you been here before…? |
| Man | No, this is my first time. |
| Receptionist | I see. Do you want to have the full argument, or were you thinking of taking a course? |
| Man | Well, what would be the cost? |
| Receptionist | Yes, it’s one pound for a five-minute argument, but only eight pounds for a course of ten. |
| Man | Well, I think it’s probably best if I start with the one and see how it goes from there. OK? |
| Receptionist | Fine. I’ll see who’s free at the moment … Mr. Du-Bakey’s free, but he’s a little bit conciliatory … yes, try Mr. Barnard – Room 12. |
| Man | Thank you. |
| The man walks down a corridor. He opens door 12. There is a man at a desk. | |
| Mr Barnard | (shouting) What do you want? |
| Man | Well I was told outside … |
| Mr Barnard | Don’t give me that you snotty-faced heap of parrot droppings! |
| Man | What! |
| Mr Barnard | Shut your festering gob you tit! Your type makes me puke! You vacuous toffee-nosed malodorous pervert! |
| Man | Look! I came here for an argument. |
| Mr Barnard | (calmly) Oh! I’m sorry, this is abuse. |
| Man | Oh I see, that explains it. |
| Mr Barnard | No, you want room 12A next door. |
| Man | I see – sorry. (exits) |
This actually goes on for a while, including the “complaint” section, so follow the link for the whole thing. Alternatively, you could surf on over to Taobao, find an Anger Release store, and kvetch for a few minutes for a very reasonable price.
