My first brush with network marketing

My first brush with network marketing was when an old work colleague contacted me some months after my son was born, and invited herself around for the evening. She arrived with a collection of plastic bottles and, unexpectedly, some hard sell!

Actually, she tried very hard to make polite conversation for the first 5 minutes, and even looked at the baby for 30 seconds. But then she launched right into it. She had just joined a new, exciting, company that was going to change her life, and mine. She explained how this opportunity was perfect for me, as I had opted out of a conventional career now that my son had been born. I could benefit from some extra money on the side to pay the bills, couldn't I? I had to agree. I could spare 30 minutes here and there, while my son was sleeping, couldn't I? Once more, reluctantly, I agreed.

She told me that I wouldn't need to do any selling - that the products sold themselves, and that my friends, family and neighbours would be gagging to buy them off me. All I would have to do would be to take orders, collect the goods every so often from my upline, and drop them around to my customers. It sounded like hard work to me, but she insisted it would not be. I reminded her of the parking meters, traffic jams, and the baby that had taken over my life. Not a problem at all, she claimed. I would just do my deliveries at night time, when my husband was taking care of the baby. I would also go to opportunity meetings in the evening, she said, or start my own. Confident in her own single, childless world, she didn't notice my reaction to her suggestion that I would lose those precious evening hours when my husband came home and my baby was in bed.

Why should I buy these products, I asked? I had been flipping through her catalogue, and pointed out that they were more expensive than the equivalent in the supermarket. That's because they are so much better, she enthused! Look! Grabbing a clean white babygrow from the laundry basket and smearing it with brown shoe polish (oh horror!) she told me that "I simply wouldn't believe" how efficient her products were and how they would clean up anything. I would never want to buy anything else, and nor would my customers. She then opened one of her huge bottles and, grabbing a clean towel (don't worry, it will all come off!) proceeded to pour a thick liquid over it and scrub. And scrub. And scrub. The towel turned a vicious, nasty brown. The babygrow turned a vicious, nasty brown. Her hands turned a vicious, nasty brown. And still she kept scrubbing. 

My kitchen got quieter and quieter as Kate grew more and more frustrated and embarassed. Eventually, with red face and brown hands, she took my babygrow and towel and dropped them in the bin. Sorry, she mumbled. It worked when they showed it to me. This is the first time I've tried it. She picked up the bottle and studied the label carefully, as if it was going to get her out of the hole she had dug. Finally she put it down and slunk off to the bathroom to wash her hands.

Two days later a parcel arrived at my door with a brand new, very expensive, French babygrow and some sweet-smelling lavender soap. I never heard from Kate again. And it was some years before I brushed up against network marketing once more, but this time I fell for it, hook line and sinker!

by Lindsay Small

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