*i'd like to thank Tori, my guest writer for this blog*
The names have been changed to protect the...well, you get the point.
My sister and I somehow always find ourselves in the strangest situations imaginable. On one such occasion, we were harassed into going to meet with a "beauty consultant" to get "pampered". After about 100 calls and emails (literally), we finally agreed to go so that we could be left alone. But we only agreed to go after straight telling "Carrie" (as we will call her) that we would NOT be purchasing anything. Nothing. Not a single item she was selling. We were told that we would get makeovers and free pizza and that would be it. So after much pestering by "Carrie", we were off to the headquarters of this makeup line to get our pampering session.
Since our "appointment" was late in the afternoon, we both threw on jeans and a sweatshirt and wore no makeup. We figured if we wore any of our own makeup, we would have to go through the trouble of taking it all off as soon as we arrived. We drove the 20 minutes to get there, and reluctantly stepped out of the "scort" and headed into the office. We were greeted by about 10 "beauty consultants" all dressed in the same outfit and wearing the most makeup you have ever seen in your life. They took us to the one pizza box sitting open with about 5 pieces of pizza left, and then showed us into the "pampering room". Well, the pampering room was 3 folding tables put together in a 'U' shape with a little mirror at each seat along the way. We took our seats, ate our 2 pieces of pizza, and then prepared ourselves for what was to come.
So the "pampering" began. Our "instructor" came in and showed us their newest facial cleanser. We were given a cotton ball to apply this new product to only one side of our face so that we could see the difference. The pampering session was now over. Yeah, you heard me right. That was the make-over. Our recruiter "Carrie" entered the room and began to ask us what beauty products from their line we would be interested in buying. What?! We were cornered into each buying a lip gloss, and then we were taken into a large meeting room where all of the consultants were having their weekly meeting.
The room was long and narrow. Rows of chairs stretched the distance of the room except for a stage in the front of the room and a sound system in the back. A gentleman was adjusting the volume of the microphone that a consultant was checking. We felt like we were sitting in a secret meeting of a strange cult. Each attendant was dressed in the same outfit (except for us). Eerie smiles were on each face of the consultants as they got us up onto the stage and began to interview us. Were they really aliens? Were we the latest stars of an crazy independant movie?
Basically, we were being recruited to become salespeople for their beauty product line. We were asked our names, our occupations, what we thought of the product they had us try, and on a scale of 1 to 10, how much we thought that we would like to be a consultant for them. Another random lady in the meeting was "interviewed" first. A stay-at-home mom who loved the product and gave a 9 to the possibility of selling. Mellie was second in the interview. She gave her answers, but for some reason, the woman forgot to ask her the last question. Honestly, she told me her answer as to whether she would sell for them or not was a 2. But since they didn't ask, she didn't tell. I was last in line. When asked what I would rate becoming a salesperson, I answered with a 7. I figured that I didn't want to be rude to the ladies surrounding us and staring us down, but that I didn't want them to think I was eager to jump on the selling bandwagon. After I gave my response, the women in the crowd began to boo. The sound man in the back was given a cue and a thunderous booing sound was played over the sound system. From somewhere in the crowd a rubber chicken was thrown at me up on the stage. We stood in horror for what seemed like an eternity. Was this really happening? We ran out of the building as fast as we could, but not without a final sales pitch and request to invite friends to their own pampering session. As the door closed behind us, we finally exhaled. The nightmare was finally over. Mell almost wrecked the car 20 times on the way home because we couldn't stop laughing about our crazy, yet typical night.
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