On Selling Stuff

I had no idea how many things people could sell until we moved to Red State Capital City Suburb. Of course I'd heard of Avon ladies and Tupperware parties, though these days Tupperware seems to be sold mainly at kiosks in malls. My sister bought some Mary Kay once, and her face broke out like nobody's business. In California we had new age friends who tried to sell us blue-green algae and water filters. But that was about the extent of it. Or rather, the extent of my knowledge of it.

Then I moved to Red State and realized that it was huge. I never got invited to a Passion Party, thank god, but I think I hit (or was hit up by) most of the rest. My friends and neighbors tried to sell me cookware, children's books, toys, spices (the vanilla is fabulous), jewelry, candles, clothes, cosmetics, and probably kitchen sinks, though at some point I stopped paying attention. At first I would go to the parties to be friendly and neighborly. They always promised that you didn't have to buy. Of course once you got there, you felt bad if you didn't buy. In fact, the whole thing made me feel bad, mad, and sad: bad for not buying, mad at feeling pressured to buy, sad for the people who thought they were going to make their fortunes. Eventually I just started saying no on principle, though I never stopped receiving the invitations, phone calls, and flyers.

A is the first neighbor I met when we moved to Town. She's in her mid-20s and lives next door with her husband, J. During the summer, she would sit on her porch and read or write on her laptop, so we would always chat when I was going in and out with the girls. Now I mainly see her when we both are leaving early in the morning to run or go to the gym. The other day, though, I bumped into her in the middle of the day as she was coming home for lunch (she works just around the corner). We stopped to chat and she told me that there had recently been some changes at her work and she needed to confront her boss about them, but she was ok in the long run because she'd just gotten a new part-time job that had a lot of potential. I said that sounded good, and we talked about ways she could approach her boss.

Then, as we were saying goodbye, she suddenly went into the pitch. It's organic skincare (I think M's friend E's mom tried to sell me this one back in Red State, but I didn't return her phone calls). She's never seen anything like it. She would never do anything like this, but she completely believes in the product. She knows it's going to be a great opportunity for her. Maybe I'd like to get into selling it. Or if not, I really should check out the product. She'll give me some samples. No pressure to buy.

I said that sounds great for her but I'm not really into that kind of thing, good luck, see you soon.

Yesterday she left a packet of samples in my mailbox with a nice note. She's good.

And you know what? This time I'm tempted. Not to sell. But maybe to try it out. I've been thinking about changing my skin care for a while now. Why not give it a try? If it works, I'll help A along with her new career and have happy skin. Nothing wrong with that.

Except for perpetuating a pernicious system that perverts social networks and keep women in thrall to the deceptive lures of capitalism.

Oh dear.