It was early 1980 when a large group of Hmong families became members in our church. One of the many things we did to assist our Southeast Asian refugee families was to educate them in the art of buying food at the local supermarket. Since many of them did not have cars as yet, most of their shopping was limited to the local supermarket that was in walking distance from their homes.
During one evening at a pastoral visit to the Cha family, one of the largest families, I asked, “What is your biggest challenge?”
Their response surprised me.
The man of the house said, ”As you know, rice is part of every meal for us. Therefore we consume a lot of rice. When we arrived here, we could buy a 100 pound sack of our favorite rice for about $20. Now the price has gone up to over $40. This is really burdensome on our family budget as well as the other families here. Is there anything you can do?”
I explained that this was a subject unfamiliar to me, but I said would look into it.
The next day while at work, I had the chance to talk to coworker and related the dilemma of these refugees. He put me in touch with a food distributor. I called the distributor, introduced myself and explained my situation. He asked me for a more precise description of the kind of rice and assured me that he could help.
When my lunch hour arrived, I went to Linda Vista where our church members lived. I parked my car in the parking lot of the one and only supermarket. The store was a typical supermarket. I entered and made my way to the aisle that contained the bulk rice that came in various sizes of large white bags. I quickly noticed the 100 pound rice sacks previously described by my friend the night prior. It was distinctive with a bright red rose emblazoned on the sack. The price was $42.
I made my way to the checkout counter and asked to see the store manager. The checker got on the phone and a few minutes later the manger appeared. He asked how he could help me. I responded by inviting him to join me at the bulk rice aisle.
There I pointed out the 100 pound sack of rice with the red rose on it.
I said, “I suspect you sell a lot of these.”
He said, “Oh yes! Those are my best seller! The locals buy that brand the most.”
I said, “I understand that a few months ago, they sold for $19.99, but now they are over $40. Did you see a large price increase?”
He responded with wry smile, “No. In fact I am getting a better deal because I sell so many.”
I said, “I am very disappointed in you, sir. Here we have Asian refugees struggling to make it here in our San Diego community and their staple food is being price gouged by you. I am going to say something that will not make you happy. You have 24 hours to reduce the price to the original $19.99 or I guarantee you will never sell another bag of that rice.”
With a tone of arrogance he replied, “And who are you?”
I said, “Well, I guess you will discover that tomorrow when I show up to see if you have complied with my challenge to do the right thing.”
He turned in a huff and marched off. I left the store and returned to work.
I called the gentleman I had spoken to earlier in the day and gave him the specifications of the rice. After a few moments he told me he could deliver 200 or more of the 100 pound sacks of rice for $12.00 per sack.
The following day I anxiously awaited my lunch break. As soon as it was eleven thirty I left for the supermarket. Entering the front door I made my way to the bulk rice aisle. As I anticipated, the price was unchanged from the previous day. Once again I summoned the manager.
When he arrived, he again displayed an arrogant and smug expression. He said, “Oh! It’s you. How can I help you today?”
I said, “Well, I am disappointed that you have not heeded my challenge. Any chance you might reconsider and lower the price right here and now?”
He smirked, turned and walked away. Apparently, he did not consider what my next action would do and how it would impact his un-American act of gauging those who least could afford it. His lack of compassion and greed would soon come back to haunt him.
I left the market and went to see the Cha family. I explained my plan to provide rice at a competitive price. They were thrilled and agreed with my plan. I returned to work.
Once at the office I called the food distributor again. I placed an order for 300 sacks of rice to be delivered to the Cha’s address. It would arrive in two days. I made arrangements for the Cha’s to get the word out to our church members. The plan called for them to get one or two sacks per family at $12 each. Friends and neighbors who were not members of the church could buy them one per family at $15 each. My rationale was that the extra money for non-members would be given to the Cha’s for storing the excess rice in their home and managing the distribution.
Two days later I received a call that the semi truck would arrive at eleven that morning. I had already made the $3600 payment via a bank transfer and left work early to meet the truck just outside the Cha’s apartment.
I was amazed to see about a dozen Hmong men standing there waiting to help with the unloading.
Right on time the truck rolled up and parked. I spoke with the driver and he proceeded to open the back of the pristine sliver trailer. The unloading immediately proceeded with one sack after another hoisted on the sturdy shoulders of the men. They carried them into the Cha’s apartment and stacked them up against a wall that had been cleared of furniture. All the while members of the Cha family were keeping tally and started distribution to the nearby church members and neighbors.
The whole scene was fascinating to me as I watched in awe as bag after bag left the back of the truck on the way to the apartment for storage and distribution. The scene reminded me of the movies where they depicted the building of the Egyptian pyramids with a multitude of people carrying building materials in a continuous stream of manpower.
The whole experience left me with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. When the last bag was removed from the trailer, the driver had me sign a document and off he went.
I returned to the Cha’s home and surveyed the situation. About 150 sacks had already been distributed with the remainder stacked to the ceiling of the living room. I told them to hold onto the money and give me the $3600 when it was collected. The extra was for the “cost” of storing and was to remain with the family.
I waited a week before I returned to the supermarket. I took a stroll past the bulk rice aisle only to see that rice with the red rose was still at $42. Again I searched out the manager. When he finally arrived he was really angry. I asked if he sold any 100 pound sacks of rice lately. He wouldn’t answer. I told him if he lowered the price to where it was originally he might again be able to find willing buyers. I explained that he might have to go down to $15 a sack to get back to the volume he was previously achieving.
Ultimately, by the time the supply of rice that I had procured ran out, the supermarket manager came to his senses and provided the rice at a reasonably competitive price.
Turning Point
This experience revealed that there is truth to the old adage: “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” I found what I believed to be a gross injustice and took it upon myself to find a solution. My personal corollary to Henry Ford’s statement, “If you believe you can or you believe you can’t, you are right” is, “. . . . If you believe to can, you will!” I believed I could, so I did.
I find it interesting that when there is a mission that appears there are resources we were not previously aware of that are found and utilized to complete that mission.
What mission awaits you? Do you believe you can do it? If so, you will find a way!
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