One woman, a regional director for a large part of Southern California, asks if
we are a Sunrider. We confess we are not.
"Here, try this." Reaching into her purse, she hands us a small vial of
cinnamon-scented liquid. "It's new." Printed on the vial are the words
"Sunny Fresh: Liquid Herb Food Concentrate."
"Drink it, it will make you feel good," she urges. Being unclear about the
actual effects of these products, we fear they may be addictive, psychologically,
if not pysically. Anything that makes you feel good is potentially
addictive, we decide, and like they say about crack, "Just because I try it once doesn't
mean I'm an addict." What we are really afraid of, we suppose, is that this little vial
of over-the-counter "Sunny Fresh" would make my day and transform me,
like a Jeckyll and Hyde formula, into an instant Sunrider. Not wanting to be
rude, we drink it. It goes down warm and tingly like a shot of sweet cough
syrup. We notice a large portrait of Chen, proud and benevolent, on the wall.
When the woman learns that we are there to interview Tei Fu Chen, her eyes
widen and she looks at us with delight. "He's here, here in this building?"
The woman passes on the news to a fellow Sunrider waiting in the lobby.
[CONTINUED BELOW]
"He's really a wonderful man," says the other woman. She then confesses
that she has only met him briefly.
As we are escorted into the inner sanctum of the Sunrider building, we can't help
marveling at the celebrity status Chen enjoys among Sunriders. The hallways
are hung with his pictures, humanitarian awards, and photos of him with the
likes of Ron and Nancy Reagan. Waiting in his office, we are a little impressed
with ourselves for having finally reached the heart of the operation that spans
18 nations, the throne room and nerve center that holds together Sunrider
International.
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