The Parable of the Sous Chef and the Mushrooms

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, how many people shop on Black Friday just because everyone else shops on Black Friday?”

Josh spoke thus:

A sous chef was walking through the market, trying to find fresh mushrooms.

“Mushrooms!” a keeper of a stall called out, “Mushrooms!”

The sous chef approached the stall.

“I need mushrooms,” the sous chef said to the keeper of the stall.

“Mushrooms?” someone called out.  A horde of shoppers approached the stall.

“Please,” the sous chef said, “I was here first and I need mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms!” a member of the gathered horde shouted out.  Attracted by the call, a large group of passers by approached the stall, circling around the horde that had first approached.

“Do you have button mushrooms?” the sous chef asked the stall keeper.

“Button mushrooms!” the horde cried.  The horde moved in.  Whether they were moving in to see the button mushrooms or whether they were forced inward by pressure from the increasing crowd was unclear.

“What kind of mushrooms do you want?” the stall keeper asked the sous chef.

“Button mushrooms,” the sous chef said.

“I don’t have button mushrooms,” the stall keeper said.

“No button mushrooms!” someone in the back of the crowd shouted, “They don’t have button mushrooms!”

“Button mushrooms!” the horde chanted, “Button mushrooms!”

The crowd became aggressive.

“What kind of mushrooms do you have?” the sous chef asked the stall keeper.

“I have psychedelic mushrooms,” the stall keeper told the sous chef.

“And you just shouted that out in the public market?” the sous chef asked.

“Do you have truffles?” someone from the horde asked.

“Of course I don’t have truffles!” the stall keeper said, “Who has truffles?”

“You said you had mushrooms,” the person who asked about truffles said, “I thought you might have truffles.”

“He doesn’t even have button mushrooms,” the sous chef said, “Who doesn’t have button mushrooms?”

“I don’t have button mushrooms!” the stall keeper said, “Stop bothering me about button mushrooms.”

“I have button mushrooms,” a stall keeper from another stall shouted.

The crowd surged toward the stall that had button mushrooms.

“Now you’ll never get button mushrooms,” the stall keeper who didn’t have button mushrooms or truffles said, “Not with that crowd.  And I bet ninety percent of them don’t even want button mushrooms.  But they’ll all go home with button mushrooms, those that get them.”

“I don’t want button mushrooms,” the sous chef said.

“Then why did you ask for button mushrooms?” the stall keeper asked.

“What am I going to do, ask for psychedelic mushrooms with all those people around?” the sous chef said, “With that crowd, I’d never get any.”

The stall keeper smiled.

“Want to ask me for some lemon grass?” the stall keeper asked, measuring out a small amount of psychedelic mushrooms for the sous chef, “It’s high-quality Yucatan lemon grass.”