Not long ago, in a little town in Japan’s Chiba Prefecture, ordering an orange juice at a certain outdoor cafe would have gotten you, instead, an “Appletizer” and some candy:

At this cafe, you get what the person before you ordered. The next person gets what you ordered.

For the record, here are the rules of the Ogori cafe:

1. Let’s treat the next person. What to treat them with? It’s your choice.

2. Even if it’s a group of friends or a family, please form a single-file line. Also, you can’t buy twice in a row.

3. Please enjoy what you get, even if you hate it. (If you really, really hate it, let’s quietly give it to another while saying, “It’s my treat…”)

4. Let’s say “Thank You! (Gochihosama)” if you find the person with your Ogori cafe card.

5. We can’t issue a receipt.

Basically, the food service is purposely out of sync with the food delivery. (What happens if you’re the first one to place an order that day — do you come away empty-handed?) The element of surprise is key, I think. Knowing the deal ahead of time obviously affects what you’d order; the results are “purer” when someone truly doesn’t expect the time-shifted pre-order. It’s a little bit crowdsourcing, a little bit roulette, and a whole lot of Japanese-style weird. Although maybe it’s better summed up this way:

It forced one to “let go”, just for a brief moment, of the total control we’re so used to exerting through commerce. It led you to taste something new, that you might not normally have ordered. It was a delight.

Taking away that element of control, when we’re so accustomed to a “customer is always right” concept, is the kicker. If you can’t trust your everyday consumer routine, you get a jarring feeling.

It seems that the Ogori cafe was a limited-time experiment in social behavior, because it’s since closed shop. Or maybe it pissed off the wrong patron. I’d love to witness the mayhem triggered by a Stateside edition…