A Gem of an Idea

"With these certificates, you can walk into any jewelers in the world; perhaps Tiffany’s in Bond Street and sell these gemstones for over four times what you paid for them." The well dressed man across the desk told me.

I figured this wouldn’t be a good time to explain that I’d spent eight years as a retail jeweler and knew only too well that it didn’t work that way. Jewelry stores buy their wares from wholesalers who in turn buy them from the manufacturers. They purchase their gems from highly reputable gem houses which employ very well paid and extremely experienced buyers to procure top quality stones from mining companies around the world.

What no jewelry retailer on the planet does is buy gemstones from hippies walking in off the street thinking they've brought home a bag of insta-fortune from their trips to Thailand.

"Hey meestah, hey Joe, where are you going?" Every backpacker traveling through Asia learns to hate this phrase. It’s a catch all greeting designed to stop you in your tracks and allow the local to engage you in conversation. Once they have your attention, a few niceties are observed before moving into the meat of the matter. Usually an invitation to a T-shirt factory, or a souvenir shop, or an introduction to a nice young lady.

Many times, the initial story was that they simply wanted to ‘practice their English’ and who would be churlish enough to reject that? Well, I would for one. At least, I would once I’d heard it a million times but this was my first day and I was new to the game. So, late afternoon found me sitting in a coffee bar while a fifty-ish man span me a yarn about how he was a teacher who like me, loved to travel. However, the pay was very poor. So, he took advantage of a scheme promoted by the government whereby he purchased gemstones, then sold them to jewelers abroad to supplement his travels.

I have to say, he was very convincing and if I wasn’t already aware of the scam, I might even have fallen for it. Yet, even with my inside knowledge, he still found a way to hook me. Not by inviting me to buy the gems, but by offering to take me to the factory where I could see them being cut. Like I said, I’d worked retail jewelry for eight years but I’d never actually been to a gem factory and the prospect intrigued me. Oh, I knew there would be a sales pitch sooner or later but I could handle that. I’m no fool.

So, I played him like he thought he was playing me and went along with the gig.

After making sure he picked up the tab for the coffee, I found myself sitting in a tuk-tuk, one of Bangkok’s ubiquitous three-wheeled motorcycle cabs (so named because of the noise they make) and on my way to the gem factory. It was some ways from the city center, so we chatted affably while I enjoyed the ride. All too soon we arrived and after my new friend chattered through the intercom for a moment or two, the door buzzed open and we were admitted to the inner sanctum. I’m not too fluent in Thai, so I’m not sure what he said but I suspect the gist of the conversation was

"Another sucker fresh off the boat, coming up. Doesn’t even have a suntan."
To which I thought
"Ha hah! Not me, matey."

In we went, to be greeted by a troupe of smiling employees. A drop dead gorgeous girl handed me a Coke, a welcome gift in Bangkok’s heat and the tour commenced. Which is the point where I realized that they weren’t going to show me the gems being cut after all. If such a thing happened on these premises, which I seriously doubt, then I wasn’t going to be privy to it. Instead we were getting straight down to business.

Mr. Friendly stayed downstairs, while Miss Cutie led me up to an office where I was introduced to Mr. Smoothie who begain his sales spiel.

First he showed me a sample of a ‘low quality’ gem and compared it to a ‘high quality’ gem. In layman’s terms this can be translated as ‘piece of glass’ compared to a ‘piece of crap’. I smiled politely and let him ramble. It didn’t go on too long really and after a few minutes, he cut to the chase.

"So" he asked, "How many would you like to buy?"
"Ah, well that’s the thing you see. It sounds like a wonderful deal, but I’m afraid I don’t have any money." His composure didn’t falter.
"That’s OK, we take credit cards"
"No credit card either, sorry"

While this was perfectly true (thanks to a bank mix-up, my credit card set off on its round the world trip a couple of days after I did and I didn’t see it until Sydney, a couple of weeks later) the announcement did not go down well.

"Then why are you here?" he asked with steel in his voice.
"Well, the gentleman downstairs told me I could see the gems being cut and that’s what I came to see."

He picked up the phone and jabbered angrily for several minutes before replacing the receiver and telling me coldly.

"OK, you may go."

Downstairs I went, waved a cheery goodbye and was soon back out on the streets. It was a long trek back to the center and I never did see the gems being cut but I did feel pretty good about how I’d put one over on the scammers.

Many months later, a group of us were sitting in a Malaysian café, discussing the gem scam. While we’d all heard of it, one guy had apparently been taken in. To the tune of several thousand dollars on his credit card.

"Yeah" he explained, "They told me I would get to see the gems being cut and that’s what got me to go along. What I didn’t realize was that the drink they handed me as I walked in was drugged, and by the time I came to, I was back on the streets."

I thought back to a breathtakingly pretty girl, handing me a bottle of Coke with a straw in it, and my grateful acceptance. If that one was drugged, and I’m pretty sure it was, then I can’t explain why it didn’t affect me.

But for once, I was kind of glad my bank screwed up with my credit card.