That Time I Choked On Oysters For The Sake Of Making A Sale
By: Hurriya Burney
Tags: Work, Entertainment, Sales, Business, Food

That Time I Choked On Oysters For The Sake Of Making A Sale Hurriya Burney Follow Oct 16 · 4 min read

Photo by Viviana Rishe on Unsplash

I had been chasing a prospective client for several months.

Finally, she agreed to meet with me. She suggested after-work drinks at a local restaurant in downtown Vancouver.

I prepared for the meeting for days. I was going to wow her with my intellect, preparation, and confidence. I read every article on her and her business twenty pages into a Google search. I knew the awards she had won, where she liked to ski, and what causes were close to her heart.

And so, when I walked into the restaurant a few minutes shy of our 6 p.m. meeting time, I was floating on a sparkling cloud of anticipation. The client welcomed me warmly and things were off to a good start.

She had already ordered a glass of chilled white wine for herself. She told me that arrived ten minutes ago as she finished work earlier than expected.

“I didn’t know what you wanted to drink,” she told me. “But I ordered us some oysters.”

My blood froze. Oysters?

She prattled on about how she had chosen this restaurant because of its focus on sustainable seafood.

All the while I was thinking — Oysters? That’s what you had to order? Why not flash-fried calamari? Or a shrimp cocktail? Or grilled scallops? Or maybe some sushi?

She had to order oysters —an acquired taste at best and a skin-crawling horror for a lot of people.

I’ll be honest — I had never tried oysters before. But just the sight of them repulsed me. They looked like the inside of someone’s brain.

I physically steeled myself as I ordered my glass of wine. Soon, my mind got occupied with other matters as we started chitchatting about her business. And then the oysters arrived.

They looked as gross and fleshy as I remembered them from those occasions in the past that I had accidentally, uncomfortably come face-to-face with them. I had a desperate thought that maybe I wouldn’t be expected to eat them. Sadly, no.

“Bon appetit,” the client said as she picked up a shell and sucked the raw critter into her mouth. After she has swallowed it, she took a sip of her wine, looking pleased with herself.

It was my turn. I gingerly grabbed the corner of a shell, took a deep breath, tipped my head back slightly, and sucked it in.

“Don’t bite down! Don’t chew!” my mind was screaming. “But most importantly— don’t gag.”

The oyster was cold. It seemed to squirm in protest as it slid past my throat. It tasted briny as if it had soaked in salt for days. I felt my eyes bulging. To prevent myself from disgorging it, I took a giant swig of water. And it was done. I smiled crookedly in relief — until I saw my client looking at me expectantly. It was time for the next one.

And that was my night. I think I choked down 4 or 5 oysters before I demurred when she offered me another one. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“These are delicious but I’m really full,” I told her. “I have a dinner to go to after this.”

The client finished the whole plate as I watched in amazement, wondering if she was some kind of sea creature in disguise.

I felt queasy and nauseated that entire evening, plagued with flashbacks of the slimy mini sea monsters I had been forced to shove down my throat.

I was worried that I would have lasting PTSD that would prevent me from ever walking into a seafood restaurant again.

The only saving grace was that I closed the deal. It was cold comfort. But I felt vindicated. It had been a hard-fought battle. This incident went down in my annals as the worst thing I had ever done in order to win a client.