Open Letter To Anyone Throwing A Sales-Pitch Party
Do you want to know how many of these parties I’ve been invited to in the last month? Do you? Too bad, because I’m going to tell you anyway: More than 10. That’s five toy parties, one jewelry party, one “home décor” party, one paint-your-own pottery party, one handbag party, one clothing party, and one skin care/makeup party.
Give me a break!
Even if I wanted any of this stuff, who actually has the time and money to attend all these events? Not me. Look, I want to support my friends, and if this is the career you choose to pursue, then I’ll try to help out. IF you’re selling a product I might consider buying, and IF you actually know me. Please don’t send me an invitation because I’m a friend of a friend of your cousin’s neighbor’s co-worker.
I can easily see how if you’re a stay-at-home mom, or a retiree, or someone who can’t work due to a disability, this all sounds like an ideal way to pick up some extra cash. But think about who you’re picking up that cash from. It’s usually people just like you.
I think that’s what bothers me most about this kind of business. It’s built on the idea of recruiting you to go out and recruit more people to buy from you, or better yet to sell for you. So you’ve got to constantly be on the prowl for new victims. As one promotional website puts it, “go out with the idea of making a million friends instead of a million dollars.” Yeah, right. Trust me, those million people are not your friends. They are probably dreading your next invitation.
It’s a sweet deal for the people at the top of the pyramid, huh? They have no overhead, because their salespeople (and their friends) are offering up their own living rooms as the selling floor. They don’t have to recruit new reps, because their salespeople do that for them too. That same promotional site also says, “Do you enjoy sales? If not, that's great, because you don't have to be a salesperson in order to succeed. This is a business of sharing information, and there are great tools that'll help you present the products/services and business to your candidates. All you do is work with those who are interested.” What a load of crap! You’re not working with “those who are interested”—you’re working with those who are too nice to say no.
As for me: No more Ms. Nice Girl. Instead of shopping in your home, I’ll shop in my own—online.
---------------------------------------------
This post was written by the lovely Mayberry Mom, who lives, works, and writes from the wholesome upper Midwest, and has yet to be invited to a sex toy party. You can find me hanging out over at her place today, so click through her site to read my "Open Letter To You Trick-Or-Treaters".
This post is part of the mostest greatest blog exchange evar. If you want to find out more, or in order to read all this month's entries, click the pic!
The Tea Party (September Blog Exchange)
At 5:45, Lucy opened the door of her building, and peered outside. It had taken less than a week for this to become a habit. She did not trust the stoop. In the first four days as a resident of her building, she had to step over or around a dead pigeon, Leon, the homeless man who sometimes napped there, and two undergrads, fucking (Northeastern or BU from the looks of them).
The best part of Lucy's pre-dawn walk to work was the stretch of Charles Street between Boylston and Beacon. Chinatown was behind her and she wasn't really in Back Bay yet. Sometimes, when she walked along the sidewalk, she'd squint her eyes and follow the undulating patches of green and brown through the bars of the high, wrought-iron fence of the Public Garden and pretend she was watching an old movie. Then she'd balance on the edge of the sidewalk and walk toe to toe along the granite curb.
Lucy heard the car before she saw it. Even though she knew that most cab drivers would despair more over losing their hackney medallion than taking a human life, she moved closer to the fence, without taking her eyes off it. She looked down when she felt the wake of the car turning the fallen leaves in tiny airborne twists around her feet, except, these weren't leaves. Lucy looked up to see the car. It wasn't a taxi as she suspected, but a Honda Accord she guessed to be at least 5 years old. The drivers hand opened to release the last of the bills onto the street.
Lucy froze. She was alone, of that she was sure. She bent down to pick up the bills at her feet and continued to do so as she made her way down the block toward Beacon. With one last look around, she stuffed the bills into her pocket and hastened her pace. Since Monique, the West Indian nanny, had taken her leave over two months ago, Lucy's duties in the house had changed from cooking and cleaning to cooking, cleaning, carpool, story reader, fort builder wardrobe consultant, makeover victim, and Barbie head re-attacher. She didn't mind Halden, really. For a hideously spoiled almost-five-year- old girl, she wasn't half bad. The same could not be said of Halden's mother, Mrs. Ainsley.
Wednesday was Lucy's least favorite day at work. Once Mrs. Ainsley awoke and dressed, usually sometime after nine (Lucy arrived as early as she did to prepare breakfast for Halden), she called Lucy in for "Team Meeting." Lucy despised "Team Meeting," because, since Monique's departure, she was the only member of the "Team" who did anything. This team meeting involved a "game plan" for Mrs. Ainsley's annual Alpha Delta Pi sisters' dinner where she and her former classmates would talk about how hard it is to balance " mom time" with "me time" and how hard it was to find a really good decorator for the house in Sugarloaf, and how dare their last nanny just up and quit after all they had done for her. Mrs. Ainsley outlined the menu, handed Lucy a list of errands, and departed for her DAR meeting, leaving Lucy and Halden in the kitchen.
"Halden", Lucy said, "I've been thinking. You're getting to be a really big girl. How'd you like to help me get ready for this party?" The next two days were the happiest of her time at the Ainsleys. Halden performed every task Lucy presented her with unbridled joy. They giggled and sang songs in the kitchen so much so that Mrs. Ainsley even sent Lucy home early on Thursday night. She hated seeing the nanny sharing moments of genuine affection with her daughter.
On the day of the dinner, Lucy and Halden visited the florist, the cleaner, the fishmonger, and the wine store. They set the table together and Lucy allowed the child to arrange the flowers in the Steuben glass vase. After Halden was bathed and dressed, Lucy planted her in front of the television so that she could begin dinner. "Are you sure I can't help?" Halden asked. "No sweetie, you've already done so much. You rest now."
Lucy spent the last hour of her day preparing and heirloom tomato salad, pan roasted salmon with a lemon caper buerre blanc, haricots vertes, and skin-on mashed potatoes that she knew none of the women would eat. At 6:00 precisely, Mrs. Ainsley swept in, freshly pressed and dressed, the gentle scent of her four and five o'clock gimlets still on her lips.
"That will be all, Lucy", she said, surveying her immaculate kitchen.
"If you turn the oven on low toward the end of cocktails, you should be fine. I've already corked the wine. It's on ice in the pantry."
"Mmm, okay. So, see you Sunday afternoon" she replied and handed Lucy an envelope containing the precisely three-hundred and fifty dollars. The sum hadn't changed in two years. Not when she traveled with them and worked two weeks without so much as an afternoon off, not after Monique quit and Halden's care became her responsibility.
Before she left, Lucy entered Halden's room, sat down alongside her on the bed, and turned down the volume on Sponge Bob. Lucy put her arm around Halden, who who snuggled in. They sat like this for a moment, in near silence, until Lucy spoke,
"Hey, buddy girl, I just wanted to say thanks for all your help this morning."
"You're welcome"
"If we made our tea the right way, our potion will turn into magic and it will make the grown-ups jump up and down and shriek like big squeaky mice. Won't that be silly?"
"Yeah. So silly"
"Okay. Bye, pal" and as they hugged, Lucy held on a little tighter and longer than usual. "There's one more thing... if the potion works really, really well, I may grow my faerie wings and fly away."
"Really?"
"You never know"
Lucy opened the door to the brownstone and peered outside. It was a habit now that she couldn't shake. The stoop was clear, of course. She pulled her jacket around her as the early autumn chill touched her cheeks. On the corner, she hailed a taxi, climbed inside, and put her hand in her pocket, where she fingered the roll of hundreds released by the stranger in the Honda.
"Logan, please"
Halden closed her eyes and wished hard for her wish. This was one of the best days she could remember, helping Lucy with dinner, watering the back garden with the bottles of faerie water they had bought from the wine store and filling them up again with the magic flowerpetal-pee-tea Lucy let her make in her favorite tin bucket.
-------------------------------------------
This story is based on writing prompt #7 by Dan Weincek: Write a story that begins with a man throwing handfuls of $100 bills from a speeding car, and ends with a young girl urinating into a tin bucket.
Kara is an educator who lives in Massachussetts and who might have lost her mind because she chose to write this piece of fiction during the same week of school opening. She can be found at Cape Buffalo. This post is part of Kristen's Blog Exchange. This month's exchange was based on McSweeney's 13 Writing Prompts. You can find me over at Kara's today, and the full list of participants is here.
July Blog Exchange : FREEDOM!
Happy July 1st, bloggies! The first always means one thing - Blog Exchange time!! This month, I'm doing the ol' switcheroo with Jerri Ann from A Crack In Life. That means she's posting here (below!) and I'm waaaaaay over there. This month's theme was "Freedom". Keep reading to see what Jerri has to say...and stop by and see what I'm saying at her blog.
-------------------------------------
I've axed several attempts at Freedom…I've tried a few fruity waters to get the creative juices flowing, I've banged my head on the keyboard, I fell asleep proofing 2 attempts and figured they were no- go's…now what? I am being held captive by freedom. No, really I am. Freedom is driving me to drink….somehow the thought of some Bacardi Breezers makes me think I'll be more free! Let's give it a whirl.
Once when I was in high school and we had to do journals, I was given the topic "Swan Song". I was clueless what that meant and I wrote something terribly foolish. I know what "freedom" means and I'm still writing something foolish. That in itself should be enough to send you running!
So, what better way to jumpstart my brain…other than Bacardi? Google. I came to wikipedia and got this definition.
Freedom is the absence of restraints upon our ability to think and act (except those restraints that are of natural cause).
Now, that is something I can work with. It took me back to the reason I started a blog. I like to talk, I like to give my opinion, and I like to talk. Restraints are few and far between. I talk about everything, even my family…and it gets me in trouble sometimes. For some reason, the older I get, the thinner my filter on my mouth (or fingers) gets. I just take stuff in through my eyes and ears and words start coming out of my mouth (or fingers). That's freedom people, the freedom to write what I want, when I want and enjoy it. No one telling me that I have to be politically correct or that I have to be nice to people, heck I'm sure part of the time I'm just a glorified mommy-blogger. But that is ok, I like it that way.
My life is fairly restrained in most ways. I have lots of rules to follow in the world, in my home, in my marriage, in my quest to be the great mom of all time, but on my blog, I have no rules. Freedom! I might be wrong but I believe that a majority of all bloggers feel the same way…..I blog so I can be free. Freedom of speech, that was a big one wasn't it!
P.S. I took an odd route on this one regarding my own bouts of freedom, lest we forget the Freedom of our nation to be celebrated on July 4th, Independence Day. That and the freedom of speech, which brought about all these great blogs we are allowed to read daily to the credit of our forefathers. I hope you have a wonderful 4th, filled with lots of food, family and fun…fireworks and grilled burgers to boot! Enjoy!
-------------------------------------
The other amazing blog exchangers this month are : Cape Buffalo, Chelle, Soul Gardening, Another Mommy Moment, Mommy's Dirty Secret, Chicken n Cheese, A Mommy Story, Divine Calm, Knitting Spells, Binkytown, Motherhood Uncensored, Zach's Day, Her Bad Mother, Chaos Theory, Clueless In Carolina, Izzy Mom, Mother Goose Mouse, and Bethiclaus. Go check out all the talent we have participating this month!
If you'd like to participate next month, please drop Kristen an email at kmei26 (at) yahoo.com!
June Blog Exchange : TB
It's that time again - guest blogger! This is Tammie from Soul Gardening - a wonderful writer and one of my favorite daily reads. I'm hanging out at her place today, so go check it out. For more posts like this one, also check out Binkytown and Motherhood Uncensored!
Taxonomy
by Tammie @ Soul Gardening
Human beings have an innate need to classify and name things. We’ve been doing it since the beginning of time. It is how we order our world and make sense of all of the information that surrounds us. Unfortunately, more often than not, we take the naming of things too far.
It starts out with the scientific. Take me for instance. I am a homo sapien. I am a female, Caucasian.
Then it becomes more rooted in sociology. I am married, with no children. From here we get more descriptive. I have red hair and hazel eyes. I am 5’4” and weigh 120 pounds. I like live music and scuba diving. And then the real fun begins.
In my lifetime I have been called many more descriptive names that have not been so innocuous, sometimes even by people I love. I have said the same or worse about other people often boldly, right to their face, other times only behind their back where the ugliness hurts me more than anyone else.
I have called myself many names as well, thanks to the little voice in my head that’s always so happy to tell me negative things when I need to hear them the least.
So I’ve started something recently. I want to combat some of the negativity that each of us encounters every day from others and from ourselves.
I’ve been making a point to tell the people in my life who I love and admire why they are special to me and what inspires me about them. Hopefully, I can make someone feel a little better from time to time. I’m also finding it really makes me feel great to focus on the positive.
It’s sad that people are so often surprised to hear nice things about themselves. Sometimes they wonder about my motives for saying such things. Those negative voices inside all of us must be working overtime these days.
As for my own little voice, I’ve been trying to tune her out, but it’s not easy.
She’s a real bitch.
Tammie writes online under the name TB. She is a 34 year old whose quiet life has suddenly become a whirlwind of activity. Visit her at http://soulgardening.typepad.com/ as she tries to sort out an upcoming move from Ohio to Florida, her job search, her quest for motherhood and more.
Blog Exchange : Mother May I
Everyone, say hi to Divine Calm today. This is her post on "Mother May I". I'm hanging out over at her blog today, so drop by and show me some love there.
These posts are part of our May Blog Exchange on the theme Mother May I. Click around to read some of the other posts: Nancy, Vicki, Julie, Chase, Stacy, Christina, Jen, Mabel, TB, Mel, Izzy, Mayberry Mom, Amy, and Laurie. If you'd like to participate in the June Exchange, please email Kristen at kmei26 at yahoo.com. Enjoy!
----------------------------------
I was sixteen when a boy from choir asked me out for a date. Flattered, but unsure whether my mom would allow me to go out on a date, I didn't give him a response right away. He was a nice guy with tiny dreadlocks who always teased me about not having any rhythm.
I told my mom, who taught at my high school, about him later that night. She listened intently, but I was not prepared for her response.
"With this being your first dating experience, I don't think you are prepared to deal with the consequences of dating somebody who is black," she said.
"Are you trying to tell me that despite all of your preaching about people who look different on the
outside being the same on the inside that you don't want your white daughter dating a black guy?"
"Sweety, down the road when you are more experienced in the dating scene, you can date any person you want to. However, right now, I just don't think you are prepared to deal with people's reactions toward a black man dating a white woman," my mom stated.
"I can't believe you would say such a thing! You of all people," I screamed as I ran to my room and slammed the door. I sobbed that my mom with one arm could be so racist.
Three weeks later, my best friend, who was a beautiful redhead, started dating a black basketball player at our high school. One day, she came into my English class to drop off some homework to the teacher at the end of class.
I was horrified to hear my teacher talking about her to another teacher as I was leaving the class.
"Did you hear who she's dating? Greg Moss. She really should be dating somebody better than that," the teacher said while wrinkling her nose in disdain.
Knowing that Greg's reputation was good, I guessed the teacher was referring to something other than the fact that he played basketball.
After school, I told my mom about what I heard after English class.
"Mom, I can't believe that a teacher would be so hateful."
"I'm so sorry you had to hear that. See, people can be really cruel, and I didn't want that sort of thing to happen to you the first time you date a boy. When you are older, you will be better able to handle other people's prejudices."
Since high school, I have dated African Americans, Persians, Indians, Latinos, and even conservative
white boys. Although concerned about other people's reactions, my mom has never given me a hard time about my dating choices. She especially likes my current Panamanian boyfriend.
Lost Blogs - The Wrap Up
Yahoo hosting, whom I FREAKING LOVE has eaten/distorted/partially saved/erased/mangled this post about 6 times already today. Let's see how much more pissed off I can get. *big sarcastic smile* This used to be a REALLY long and pretty post, but I'll shorten it because if I do it one more time, I'll murder someone. My PMS is full-fucking-throttle today, thanks Yahoo!
As many of you guessed, my guest blogger was AMELIA EARHART!
Links to my guest posts:
Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5
Day 1 hints : george, charles, shop, short hair, just a girl, grease under her nails, upcoming trip, cursing first born, Anne (Morrow)
Day 2 hints : how time flies, taking the trip, make a splash, President Coolidge, grand feat, nickname
Day 3 hints : being so high up, on top of the world, whole thing up in the air, George telling her to go around the world
Day 4 hints : crashed the bird, around the globe, not returning from the flight, land, Lindbergh reveal
Day 5 hints : gas running low, Hawaii, world record, women can do anything, AE, Lindy Lady
THE WINNERS!!!!
(Based on correct guesses and in the order they were received)
FIRST PLACE - Muse (won : $20 giftcard from iTunes or Amazon.com)
SECOND PLACE - Belinda (won : $15 giftcard from iTunes or Amazon.com)
THIRD PLACE - Chili (won : $10 giftcard from iTunes or Amazon.com...or a trip to Panera Bread, my treat!!)
CONGRATULATIONS!!!!
More important links:
Kevin's site, where the rules of the game are. Kevin was the mastermind behind the campaign!
Paul Davidson's site - the author of the book we've been promoting
Amazon.com, where you can order the book we've been promoting
The Lost Blogs site, where you can see samples of the book we've been promoting
Midol - because I need some badly
~~MY LAST ENTRY~~
Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign : DAY 5 - FINAL DAY
July 5, 1937
It's beautiful here. I think I'll stay forever.
I decided to end my life. At least, the life I knew before. With the constant attention, media hounding, George's annoyances, and the Lindbergh tradgedy, I can't handle it anymore. So I made that final call - "gas running low" - and flew toward the Hawaiian islands. Of course, I had pleny of gas - and a plan.
This will be my last blog, as people are already reporting "sightings." God forbid anyone find this blog. George is searching for me. I won't be found. I feel bad, I do, but I have to get out of this whirlwind. I never was one for such hooplah. Now I can relax. I've completed my goals. I've set world records. I've seen the world. I've shown that women can do anything. Now it's me time.
I must go. There's a luau on the beach in 5.
Goodbye blog,
AE - proudly, The Lindy Lady
----------------------------------------
This histoblogger guest post brought to you by Hawaiian Vacations and TasteTheWorld.Org. And by the fine folks at The Lost Blogs. Check out other guest posts under "Lost Bloggers" to your right.
~~AROUND THE WORLD~~
Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign : DAY 4
Dear blog, I am finally going. I am going to do it this time.
My last attempt didn't work out too well - we crashed the bird. I'm leaving again tomorrow for a trip around the globe - how very exciting! It will be wonderous seeing the world...even more wonderous getting away from George. I seriously should have stayed single. The partnership was not worth the agony of the feet! Feet. HIS FEET.
Because of this, I have made a decision, dear blog, that you must not tell anyone. I won't be returning home from this flight. With my sudden fame and the attention it comes with, I can't just go away and be alone. I mean, how do I explain I divorced him because he constantly picks his toes?? Drastic measures must be taken. I can't go into details yet, but will as soon as I land.
By the way, blog, I don't hold a grudge against Charles anymore. My heart aches for his wife and him - and that poor baby. I feel terrible. It's been a couple of years and I still have nightmares. Lord, bless the Lindberghs. I regret that I hated him so.
I must pack now. I have a big journey ahead of me.
---------------------------------------------------------
This histoblogger guest post brought to you by The Electric Company and my beagle, Moxie. And by the fine folks at The Lost Blogs. Check out other guest posts under "Lost Bloggers" to your right.
~~GET ME OUTTA HERE~~
Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign : DAY 3
So much to report, dear blog!
I did it. I am the only woman in the world who has pulled it off. I can officially say I am now more impressive than Charles! I smile and nod at him in public, but I hope he knows I only took the trip to one-up him. He told me years ago a woman has no business being so high up, but now who's patting who on the head? Me. Patting you. Pat pat pat.
I'm on top of the world!
In other, less thrilling news, I agreed to marry George. I know. I know. It's really more of a partnership than a marriage. We enjoy the same things. We talk about exploring the world. We get along famously! But, honestly, living with him, he's kind of annoying. That thing he does with his feet makes my skin crawl. And the snoring? Oh, the snoring! We've only been married a little over a year, but he's getting on my last nerve. I feel bad, I do. I like George. I felt it was right marrying him. But I just don't know. The whole thing is up in the air right now.
That's all for now, blog. George and I are talking tonight about where I can go next with my career. He says around the world. At this point, I say great, it'd be a lot easier than having to see him pick his toes one more time.
--------------------------------------------
This histoblogger guest post brought to you by : the number 13 and Campbell's Tomato Soup. And by the fine folks at The Lost Blogs. Check out other guest posts under "Lost Bloggers" to your right.
~~ I'VE COME A LONG WAY, BABY ~~
Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign : DAY 2
I apologize it's been so long since I've written, my dear blog. It's been almost year, now. I can't believe how time flies.
I made the trip, of course, and, thankfully, returned home safely. You can see pictures I took here and here. There wasn't much to do, though, so I slept a lot. Preparing for the trip was exhausting...I suppose next time I'll need to nap beforehand.
George and I are still close. What a great friend he is. I think he's starting to get a crush though, and that worries me. I doubt his wife would have anything nice to say about that. But I don't push. I try not to make a splash.
Did I mention I met President Coolidge?? That was interesting. He congratulated me! Me...not Bill (who did all the work). He certainly is none-too-pleased with me right now. I've gotten a lot of attention lately, which I suppose is great, though I don't feel I deserve it. I honestly didn't do anything amazing. Yet. Charles still has it coming. I still owe him a grand feat.
Oh, and speaking of that bastard, the nickname they've begun to call me? I hate it. Hate it hate it hate it! As if being compared to Charles wasn't bad enough, now they have to call me that? Why can't they just stick with my initials like I asked them to?
More later. George is coming over tonight. He says he has a surprise for me.
---------------------------------------------------------------
This histoblogger guest post brought to you by : me....and that guy over there. And by the fine folks at The Lost Blogs. Check out other guest posts under "Lost Bloggers" to your right.
~~THAT DAMN CHARLIE~~
Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign : Day 1
It was lovely out tonight, so George invited me over for supper. Unfortunately, once I got there, I found he'd also invited Charles. Charles. What a cocky little man he is. "Call me Charlie, toots" he says, patting me on the head like a child. I refuse to call him anything but bastard. Of course, not to his face because, oh, I'm a lady. Just a girl. Oh, the times we live in. But I'll show him. I'll show dear Charlie.
I didn't realize supper would be an occasion, so I came straight from the shop. I just tousled my hair (isn't short hair wonderful?!), slipped on some clean clothes, and walked over there, not paying attention to the details. Charles made it a point to snicker at the grease under my fingernails. Of course he did. It's Charlie...good ol' Charlie.
We spoke of the upcoming trip, Charles giving me pointers along the way because, apparently, he knows everything. Blah, blah, blah. He asked if I would be bringing my lipstick along. I smiled politely but cursed his first born under my breath. Charlie has just started courting a lady named Annie or Angela...or something. I don't know how she stands him. I'd like to meet her one day.
More later. I have to get up early to do some packing. I will not be bringing any LIPSTICK. Cocky bastard.
---------------------------------------------------
This guest post is brought to you by the letter E...and the color blue. And by the fine folks at The Lost Blogs. Check out other guest posts under "Lost Bloggers" to your right.
