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Riding the freebie circuit

There's a little known club in Hong Kong. Its members are a strange mix of the elite, and the decidedly un-elite.

These people meet regularly to watch the latest plays, sample the newest restaurants and drink the best champagne.

They try everything and pay for nothing.

These are the men and women of Hong Kong's freebie circuit.

Lai See herself has become something of a freebie veteran.

You can tell when you're a veteran because you start recognising the faces. These are the same people you saw at the Cartier do, the Vong anniversary, the Cirque du Soleil opening.

Their names are on all the invite lists and their cards are in every PR firm's Rolodex.

But not all freebiers are created equal.

The canape-consuming nomads divide into two distinct tribes: the socialites and the freeloaders.

There are of course freeloading socialites, but they're more difficult to spot than the non-hybrids.

For freebie virgins, Lai See offers this quick guide to telling the two groups apart.

First, the socialites.

Their aim: see, be seen, and head for the next event.

Number one rule: Never be caught wearing the same outfit twice.

Typical thoughts upon arriving: Oh God, the decor. Lime green is SO last season.

The freeloaders (mostly journalists, with an occasional smattering of Hong Kong Tourist Association types).

Their goal: mob the buffet and drink as much champagne as humanly possible.

Their number one rule: mob the buffet and drink as much champagne as humanly possible.

Their thoughts upon arriving: Right, let's mob the buffet and drink as much champagne as humanly possible.

Needless to say, the two tribes don't mix much.

The socialites flit about air kissing, ignoring the gnashing journos hunched over their plates.

The wealthy leave early. They take a few sips of champagne, sample an hors d'oeuvre or two and head off to the next function.

Not so the freeloaders.

They migrate from buffet to bar and remain there until the lights are turned off and the janitor tells them he really needs to lock up.

But we've neglected the lucky dip.

The winners are spookily predictable.

Your chances of winning a prize are inversely proportional to how much use you can actually get out of it.

Take Thursday's freebie. It was a lavish affair, celebrating the 10th anniversary of the Shangri-La.

There was fire juggling and tap dancing and people walking around on stilts shooting guests with plastic guns.

Lai See was feeling lucky.

But we didn't win the vacation in Cebu.

Swire Pacific chairman James Hughes-Hallett did.

Gee, just what a Swire guy needs. A free flight on Cathay.

Still, Lai See can't really complain. She did win something in Pacific Place yesterday.

We made a purchase there, and were told that our outlay entitled us to a 'free gift'.

Marvellous. Rose-bedecked tables had been set up where chirpy mall staff doled out boxes.

'What would you like?' a smiling attendant asked. She indicated the red cardboard boxes stacked in front of her. 'There's small, medium, large and pillow-shaped.'

How exciting.

'What's inside them?' we asked. 'Or is it a surprise.'

Our helper's smile faded.

'There's nothing inside them,' she said.

This left us genuinely puzzled.

'My prize is an empty box? Why would I want an empty box?'

She couldn't really say.

Lai See knows how the forces governing these things work.

We're willing to bet that at that very moment we received that prize, Mr Hughes-Hallett was looking around his office sighing, 'Look at all this clutter. Oh, if only I had an empty box'.

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