Strange Case of Mr. Ben

Jon's curiosity mania was up again. He couldn't but notice the luxury and expensive sports cars that were often parked in front of Mr. Ben's small office. The office was right beside the Village Bookstore owned by Kuya Jack along Road 20 in Project 8, QC. How can an office so small attract clients so rich? And just what was it that Mr. Ben was selling? It was the strange case of Mr. Ben Zhhayb whom the mystery tracking sleuths in Project 8, Quezon City, simply called Mr. Ben.

The office was near the corner of Short Horn Road, just several lots away from McDonald's. It was a small, nearly dilapidated office space cramped between two bigger establishments. The sign outside simply said, "Are you happy? If not, consult Ben Zhhayb." That got the office always busy with at least 10 clients in a posh car each hour. Strange, Jon thought. So one day, when he couldn't stand it any longer, he decided to pay Mr. Ben a visit.

But that afternoon, the office was strangely quiet--not a car outside. So Jon thought it was a perfect time to visit Kuya Jack's mysterious neighbor. Before he knocked on the old door with faded paint, he placed a hand on it trying to pick up something in his spirit--a hint or two on the office's history or perhaps the nature of Mr. Ben's business (Jon had what others might call ESP though it wasn't)--but he got nothing. Jon and his older brother Jad, had spiritual gifts and supernatural powers. They got it packaged when they surrendered their lives to Jesus as Savior and Lord into their hearts a long time ago. They could easily sense dangers or wicked spirits and easily drive away devils and demons, commanding them to scram. But here in front of Mr. Ben's office, Jon got zero readings. So he knocked.

"Please, come in," a big, deep voice from behind the door invited him. Must be a big guy, Jon thought.

The squeak on the door hinges were terribly spooky and the door revealed a small middle-aged bald man. He wore heavy-framed eyeglasses and was seated behind a big desk. He didn't look that happy selling happiness to his clients for years. What happiness was he selling?

His eyes caught Jon's as Jon slowly swung the door open. "Humpty-Dumpty," thought Jon.

"Young man, please come in!" the man invited him again, letting out a sad "smile." Jon slowly walked in and took one of two seats in front of the desk. So, the big, deep voice is coming from this elfin of a man, Jon thought. "Hi, Mr. Ben!" he finally said after sitting.

"Hi!" returned Ben pleasantly. "So, are you happy?"

The office seemed bigger inside, with a massive book shelf, cabinet and a receiving area where a short and long sofa separated it from Mr. Ben's desk or what appeared to be his main office cubicle. The air conditioning system was strong. "Are you a psychologist? A psychic?" Jon asked. He couldn't get any hint from his discernment faculties.

The old man shook his head and smiled. He looked like a smiling egg with spectacles. "I'm not a psychiatrist either or a counselor or magician. I'm not a comedian. But I can help you find your happiness. It's actually an unseen button in your soul. Click on it and zap, you're happy."

Jon tapped the table softly with his fingers. "Happy button?"

Mr. Ben nodded. "We all have one. But we choose to hide it from ourselves. Find it and click on it. Simple as that."

"How much is the fee?"

"P10,000 per find."

Jon cleared his throat. "Seriously?"

Mr. Ben smiled "sadly" again: "That's right. Anyway, there's a refund if the find proves wrong. But so far, I haven't had any refund claim. So, Jon, are you happy?"

Jon was aghast. "Ho-how do you know my name?"

"Not important," Mr. Ben replied. "I don't explain anything here. I ask the question and clients answer. Then I find their happy button through their response. I tell them where it is and they click on it. Sometimes, I don't have to tell them anything. The button or switch turns on by itself and the client hardly notices."

Jon said hesitantly, "That's it?"

"That's it," Mr. Ben said matter-of-factly. "P10,000," he said with emphasis. He laughed a bit. "Most rich people are the saddest. They'd give anything to be happy, if they trust your solution."

"And they trust yours, obviously."

"Very much!"

"How about sad poor people?" Jon wondered aloud. "Don't you have a heart to help them, too?

Mr. Ben laughed out loud this time. "The poor have sad stories but they know where their happy buttons are. By instinct. I was so poor and one day I discovered the science of happy buttons."

"Science?"

"Yes, it is a science," Mr. Ben confidently answered. "I study what and how they answer my one question. At a glance, I'm able to apply the scientific method to weigh their answers. Then I'm able to pinpoint where in their souls their happy button is.

"And just clicking on their, uhh, 'button' (Jon restrained a giggle) does the trick?" Jon tried to make himself more comfy in his chair. "They live happily ever after?"

"Most times, they do. Some clients live happily for a limited period, not ever after."

Suddenly, Jon remembered Mr. Ben's fee. He stopped talking a moment. Mr. Ben frowned and looked at him more closely. "Unhappy about my professional fee?"

"Worried."

"I charge when I tell you where your button is," Mr. Ben said, chuckling. "I haven't told you anything yet."

Jon felt better. As long as Mr. Ben was quiet about his button, he wouldn't be charged. "People really pay you P10,000 per button? What if you had revealed the button but the client refused to pay?"

Ben beamed. "They pay first and then I tell them."

Presently, there was a knock on the door. Jon was about to get up and say goodbye but Mr. Ben told him to stay. "Wouldn't you like to see how it works?" Ben asked him and winked. "Come in, please!" Mr. Ben called out to the client outside the door.

Before the new visitor opened the door, Jon saw a mental vision: a very old groom running after a young bride. "It's an old groom." Jon suddenly said.

"What?"

"Your client is an old man who wants to marry a young girl!" Jon whispered just before the door swung open.

"Are you Mr. Zhhayb?" the old man asked Jon.

Jon shook his head quickly then pointed to Mr. Ben. "He is," he said.

After he was shown to his seat the old man told Ben his woe. He was 81 and was madly in love with a beautiful 17-year old bride who he was about to marry. Mr. Ben's eyes widened as he looked at Jon, amazed, and then at the old man with almost disbelief. "She had agreed to marry me but now she refuses and ran away." The old man looked hopeless. "I don't know why. What should I do?" he asked Ben.

Jon was excited to see Mr. Ben's P10,000-happy-button probe. From the looks of it, the old man was a rich don. Suddenly, Jon saw a vision of a posh subdivision and the sign "for sale."

"Excuse me, sir," Jon butted in, "are you in the real estate business?" he asked the old man.

"Why, yes. I'm Architect Simon Reyes. I own and market exclusive subdivisions. That's why I'm puzzled why May suddenly backed out of our wedding plans! I'm a rich guy. What else does she want?"

Jon and the old architect, Simon, both looked at Mr. Ben Zahhyb, waiting for his magic trick. The latter asked Arch. Simon, "Are you happy?" 

Simon looked at Jon and looked back at Zahhyb. "Am I happy? Of course, I'm not! I just told you my problem! I must make May love and marry me!" 

"Payment, please," Zahhyb said calmly. Simon handed him the check a bit agitated. "This better work," he whispered somewhat threateningly and impatiently. 

Ben bit his lower lip as he studied Simon awhile. Then he opened his book shelf, took out a book and flipped its pages swiftly. He closed it after and placed the book back in the shelf. Then he clasped his hands and looked at Jon, then the old architect.

"Press the back of your right ear with a finger." he announced.

"And then?" old Simon waited for further instructions. Ben simply stared at him.

Jon felt uncomfortable with Ben's silence and Simon's impatience, so he volunteered the answer. "Mr. Ben Zahhyb asks the questions. You simply answer and do what he says, sir Simon."

Unwillingly, Simon pressed the back of his right ear with a finger and straightened up in his chair. Then he seemed to immediately change his mind. "On second thought, I think this is all ridiculous--pressing my finger on my ear to be happy? Hah!" He looked around a bit--at Jon and Ben--and then out the window, staring afar in deep thought for a moment. 

He finally said, "marrying a girl just dying to get away from me is nuts." He stared at Ben and burst into laughter. "Can you imagine how absurd that would be, and how miserable it will be for both me and her in the long run? And then here I am, stupid old fool, pressing my ear with a finger to be happy and paying you 10 thousand pesos for it!"

Old Simon slowly stood up and demanded: "I want a full refund, Mr Ben Zahhyb!" Then he rubbed his nose and considered: "But on second thought, what is P10K to me but a drop in a bucket? I'm a billionaire!" He walked out the door laughing, telling Ben how stupid his counseling business was. "You're crazy, Ben!" He yelled and laughed some more as the sound of his steps disappeared in the distance.

Ben looked at me. "Do you now believe?"

I was astonished and felt so strangely happy but dared not tell Mr. Ben about it. I quickly bade him good bye and left his old office.