I. Be prepared to accept a wondrous opportunity in the days ahead
I’d be willing to bet that I’ve opened enough fortune cookies over my career—never mind the rest of my life—to be fluent in Chinese. If I began studying them, that is. I’m sure that you know what I’m talking about. The little sayings on the back of the fortune with some Chinese vocab. I’ve started watching for them now, so I’m always disappointed if I turn over the paper and find it blank. I mean, how else would I know that [xxxx] (dou-ya) is “bean sprout”? I don’t know what sort of conversation I’ll be able to carry on knowing solely “bean sprout”, but as the fortune on the back states, I’m sure it’ll be “a wondrous opportunity”.
You know, I’ve actually considered wallpapering my apartment with my fortunes, or at least a room or two; the bathroom or the kitchen would be a wonderful conversation piece, but the living room would become distracting. It would take a while though. None could overlap, so I would have to precisely block each one, making sure there was no gaping hole where there wasn’t a fortune, no place where there were two at the same time. Currently, I’m running out of thumbtacks to pin said papers to the bulletin board, so I’ll need to decide something soon. The bigger trouble is that I don’t know if I’d be able to decide which part of the paper should face out: the side with the fortune or the side with the vocabulary. And there’s no changing my mind once I seal it all up. And no going half and half either; that would make the decision all the more difficult. Some have better fortunes than others; some have more interesting vocabulary. Though on the other hand, some don’t have any vocabulary at all.
Thankfully, I’m not out of thumbtacks. Yet. And Bean Sprout gave my age—twenty six, as of today—for one of the lucky numbers. Maybe that means something.
II. Smile to others; honesty and friendship bring you fortune
I’ve taken to sticking my fortune collection to my office window. The people in the hallway can see the fortunes, which never cease to amuse them, and I can study up on Chinese, which never ceases to amuse the waitresses at the Hidden Dragon Chinese Restaurant when I attempt to order. Especially when the food I pick up is not the food I had thought I had ordered. The window is only a temporary solution, as my window space is growing smaller by the day. My boss Jamie suggested I stop eating Chinese, which won’t be happening any time soon, or at least stop opening the fortunes, which is still going to happen if I’m eating the food. And then he took away my nameplate from the door. Marcia, the director of marketing, suggested it was taken as a hostage for the fortune slips, but I honestly don’t know if she’s joking or not.
III. Your heart is pure, and your mind clear, and soul devout
I’ve been offered an unprecedented choice. I got a call yesterday. A job offer, actually. They wanted someone to write blurbs for the inside of CD booklets. On the other hand, Jamie brought back my nameplate today. Needless to say, I’m keeping my old job. No longer do I write for the greeting cards department, but I’ve graduated to the humorous lists department. A far cry from the fortune cookie department I began in. My first assignment: the ten most creative things to paper your walls with. Jamie’s idea of a funny joke. Which is why he’s no longer doing any actual writing. Yes, it must be titled that. No, I won’t be happy about it. I might even pretend to smile about it if in a good mood.
Marcia gave me a lucky bamboo plant to celebrate my promotion. Jamie suggested ordering in Chinese. Another one of his oh so funny jokes.
IV. Nothing in this world is accomplished without passion
My fortune debacle worsens by the day. It’s no help, of course, that Jamie—and Marcia too, on occasion—feels the need to give me his fortunes when we order Chinese for lunch. As if I’d want a pre-used fate. No thank you, I have plenty of my own.
My grasp of the Chinese language, however, is gradually improving. I can remember friend, July, the food is good, automobile, and of course, bean sprout without having to jump up and run to my window. What I don’t know is how I’d form a sentence with these words. The best I’ve come up with so far is “The food is good with friends and bean sprouts in an automobile during July,” in which case I’d still have to come up with a few words. As well as a place to use it. And the waitresses would still laugh at me.
V. You are almost there
Jamie glanced over my shoulder and saw my sentence in Chinese. Which meant Marcia saw it. And after that, the entire office. So instead of hounding me about a deadline like a good manager, Jamie called me over to his computer every twenty minutes to look at different Chinese dictionary. And then he took out his credit card to order one. At which point, my “friend” Marcia asked why he didn’t just have it shipped to my house? She’d even look up the address for him. Some management team. I’m in awe of how we don’t go out of business.
Three years I’ve been ordering from the Hidden Dragon, and not once have I gotten the same fortune. Some might say that’s a statistical impossibility. Have you ever noticed that you never open a fortune cookie to find a bad fortune? You’ll never get the “you’ll walk out the door, fall down, and break your leg, then have all your investments depleted” fortune, or the “stop using the lucky numbers for the lottery; they’re not that lucky when you make them sit so close together” or the “disaster waits around every corner”.
I’ve officially decided to paper a single kitchen wall with my fortunes. Only one wall, as it were, because that’s all the space that fortunes with “learn Chinese” on the back will take up. Now, when I’m on the phone in the kitchen, ordering Chinese food, I won’t have to run so far when I need to look up a word. One day, I might even order and pick up the same item from the menu.
Have you ever noticed that you never get a blank paper when you open a fortune cookie? Seven hundred, eighty nine fortune cookies into my career, and I’ve never gotten a blank fortune. If that isn’t proof, then I don’t know what is. I’ve gotten fortune cookies without fortunes at all—rather disappointing, actually; all that excitement and then nothing—but apparently, it’s either hold-me-by-the-hand, or toss-me-head-first-into-the-deep-end. Maybe the fortune will be blank the day I pick up the correct order from the Hidden Dragon.

