It’s not often that good business comes disguised as a scam. It’s usually the other way around. Hucksters excel at social engineering. They are trust hackers who hot-wire the impulse to trust that is baked into human DNA.

The travel agents who tried to sell us an island-hopping package at Fiji’s international airport were doing everything right: the smiles and warm, welcoming attitudes. They seemed curious about who we are. They took their time to explain us the options that suited our budgets.

We had settled on the Bula Pass, ticket that gives you unlimited seven-day access to the boat that hops between the Fijian mainland and the western islands. It allows us choose how many days we want to stay in each island and move around at our pace. For $300 Fiji dollars – roughly $150 USD – it sounded ideal.

As I reached for my wallet, our agent and her colleague started to prattle excitedly in Fijian. Among the unintelligible I heard “Fiji dollars” and “New Zealand dollars”. One of them made a call that took five minutes. Finally one of them said, “There’s a mistake in the brochure we gave you. They changed their prices just recently. The Bula Pass is actually $391.”

I saw what they were doing. It was 30 minutes until the only boat left for the islands. We were tired from a 25-hour trip and sorely anticipating a quiet beach. A day wasted in Nadi, the lacklustre port city where we landed, would have been unthinkable. What’s another $90 FJD for these sun-starved gringos?

I looked again at the brochure she showed me. It said $299. Fiji dollars. Valid until March 31. They acknowledged it, but insisted they were powerless, that it’s an outdated price. I told Bianca to get her stuff. We’re leaving, I said. We’ll go somewhere else.

“But they’ll give you the same price wherever you go,” our agent said. “This price is determined by the boat operator.”

I turned around and approached her desk. “When you sell us something for $299 then change it to $391, you lose our trust. I can no longer believe you.”

She gave me a look of someone who just learned about a personal misfortune but can’t do anything about it.

The walk-away is the last resort in the haggler’s arsenal. If you can’t talk a price down, the threat of losing a customer can often sway the most determined merchant. They didn’t say a word as we left.

“What’s the plan,” Bianca asked me. My best one was to go to the Nadi port and see what we can get there. We walked towards the cabs. Our agent stuck her head out of her office window that looks onto the airport lobby.

“Come back,” he beckoned. “We’ll give you that price!”

“$299?”

“Yes, come back.”

The manager at the port would honour the advertised price, she told us. We only had to pay the agent’s cut now and the rest at the marina.

“What if they don’t correct the price?”

“I know you don’t believe me. But they said they’ll charge you $299. Show her this brochure. Tell them Lucy sent you.”

“If they don’t, can I come back and get my money back?”

Lucy smiled. “Yes, and you can even bring the police.”

At the port, the manager was stunned by the brochure. “Where did you get this? This should not be in print.” Sure enough, the real price for the package was $391. “We’ll honour this,” she said. “But we’re keeping that brochure.”