mizChartreuse || redefiningSuccess

I’m a jetsetter. Always bringing the fierceness, constantly meeting people, exchanging business cards, and networking with other brilliant minds to collaborate on the next innovative thing. So when a girl I randomly met at a book signing in the suburbs invited me to a Fierce Female Networking Event at the Hyatt downtown on Wacker Drive (with free makeup samples), I was so there!

 

 

 

I left her a voicemail asking what, specifically, the event was about. Who was running it? What did this fabulous event entail? She responded that it was sponsored by MK Inc. and there would be “a lot of fabulous women at the top of their games in the industry.”

Which still told me absolutely nothing (wtf is MK Inc.?!), but sounded nice. Why not check it out?

 

 

I got dolled up in heels and a skirt, grabbed a stack of business cards, and prepared to mingle over cocktails with some Triple-F ladies.

I was, naturally, about 20 minutes late, but I figured, “Hey; it’s just networking…I can show up whenever, no big deal.” I met this lovely girl who invited me and we walked up toward the banquet/conference room. 

“You already missed the introductions,” she told me, “but we’ll fit you right in, it’ll be fine.” Introductions? Okay. 

At the sign-in desk, another 20-something girl greeted me, almost TOO excited. “So glad you came!” She exclaimed, as she walked me into the conference room. The room was huge and there were four different areas where women were congregating, either at large round banquet tables or sitting in rows of chairs listening to speakers. Hmmm.

“So what do you do?” the excited woman asked me as she led me through the room, handing me a glass of water probably laced with Submissive Serum. I told her I’m a writer. “Oh, very nice!” she feigned interest. “Did your friend tell you what this was about?” I told her that all I knew was that it was a networking event. “Excellent. Well, join this group right here.” I sat down in a group of about 25 women of all ethnicities; most appearing to be in their 20s and 30s, smiling and laughing with the speaker.

In front of this semi-circle, a woman with flashy jewelry, white veneers and perfectly highlighted hair was pleasantly talking about how wonderful her life was. “I used to work at Amoco; and I was miserable!” The recent (and happy) divorcee went on about how she had been making a “mere $40,000 at a scuzzy job,” but NOW she’s living the life: traveling, in a nice home, meeting women and being fabulous, making over $300,000. 

Oh, boy. Here we go. Okay. You’re fab. So what’s the catch here? I thought maybe there were guest speakers empowering women to follow their dreams and take control of their lives. Fair enough.

Until I heard: “And that’s why a little hundred-dollar investment in Mary Kay can significantly change YOUR life too.”

DING DING DING! What do we have for her, Johnny?

 

 

 

I KNEW IT! I WAS  BEING SOLD! 

I am inherently wary of 1) being sold or convinced of ANYthing, 2) making investments in companies where they urge you to sign up on the spot, and 3) luring non-millionaires in with the promise of riches and luxuries. 

Like those late-night infomercials sharing the “secret to get rich quick!” And you see all the old, ugly, fat couples talking about how they made $15,000 their first DAY using the program, and all they had to do was set up a site and let the internet do the work on the stock market!

 

 

 

People are daft.

::

I almost got caught up in a Multi-Level Marketing scam years ago. When I was 19 and working at a bar (yes, I was a cocktail server while underage. And what?), one of my weirdo coworkers Derek (nobody liked him) invited me to a “business” meeting for “entrepreneurs.” The magic words. 

I went, they sold me this Magic Health Juice for $40 a bottle, and said I could MAKE TONS OF MONEY by selling to my friends. And then if THEY sold the juice, I’D MAKE MONEY OFF OF THEM! COMMISSION COMMISSION COMMISSION! They even forced us to sit down and write the names and phone numbers of everyone we know. 

“It’s easy! Just go through your cell phone contacts! Everybody knows at least 50 people!

I felt dirty.

After I left the place with my trusty bottle of Miracle Vitality Tonic or whatever the fuck it’s called, I looked up the company on the internet. “SCAMSCAMSCAMSCAM!” was the resounding word I saw when the search hits came up.

I immediately called Chase bank and cancelled my debit card, asking for a new one with a new number. It was too late to get my $40 back, but at least I had that Wonder Life Drink. “Just one ounce a day…!”

If Derek was making so much money with his “business,” why was he hustling so bad as a server at a stupid restaurant, begging us to give us his shifts so he could make his $500 rent? And why did his suits look like the came from the Salvation Army?

::

Since then, I’m suspicious of everyone and anything: costly self-help classes; organized spiritual groups; get-rich quick schemes. Especially when they try to tote the benefits or play with your weaknesses. This “networking event” used the classic tactics:

“Do you hate your job? Do you wish you could be home with your children more? Are you not experiencing the freedom you need?”

No, no, and no. I make great money doing what I love, I’m thankfully childless, and I DO WHAT I WANT every single day.

“Wouldn’t you want the opportunity to OWN YOUR OWN BUSINESS? Wouldn’t you like this red jacket? You could even drive a PINK CADILLAC one day! A PINK CADILLAC!”

 

 

 

I already work for myself, I don’t like your shoulder-padded jackets, and I’d rather not be a slave to you just so I can drive a car.

It was actually pretty gross.

After Miz 50-and-fabulous, Cadillac-driving, jet-setting diva was done telling us about how amazing Mary Kay is, ANOTHER girl came up, this one about 26 years old. She was all excited to tell us about the skincare line. She was funny and confident, but it all seemed SO PHONY to me. Like, if we were friends, she wouldn’t talk like that. 

“Listen, gurls,” she shook her perfectly relaxed, shoulder-length hair. “I was once a Proactiv victim. I was a glutton for Chanel and Lancome. And I thought Mary Kay was only for old ladies with blue eyeshadow. But TRUST ME WHEN I SAY, this is the BEST stuff on the market, for HALF the price.” Blah blah blah.

I felt so Twilight Zone. How the hell did I end up HERE? What’s going on?

Near the end, an Independent Beauty Consultant (meaning, someone who paid the $100+ for her starter pack and is still working her way up the Mary Kay Ladder of Fab) pulled me to the side. “So, what did you think?” She eagerly searched my eyes for a sign that I was going to rejoice, “SIGN ME UP! I WANT TO BE INDEPENDENT!”

We chatted for a bit and I told her, point blank, that writing is the ONLY thing I care about; the only thing in which I even bother to do significant work. Really. I’m not stuck in a miserable job; I have ADD when it comes to focusing on one thing, and I HATE SELLING THINGS TO PEOPLE. 

“Well, you never know until you try,” she sweetly said.

“Eh. I don’t know. It’s probably not for me.” The girl who had invited me came up as well, and I echoed my sentiments (but with much tact).

My meter was about to expire down on Lower Wacker Drive, so I told the ladies I had to leave. The Independent Beauty Consultant gave me a package with a lipgloss and hand lotion, and a small magazine-like brochure explaining the benefits of joining the team with testimonials from “real women.”  When I read through it later, I realized that if they really wanted me to work for them, I could re-write and edit their testimonials so they didn’t sound like they were written by the same person. Lame.

“Call me anytime if you have more questions,” the IBC told me. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know. EVERYTHING.” I wanted to ask her how much money she had made in the last year. Probably not much.

::

 

Needless to say, I didn’t mingle with industry mavens at the top of their games. I didn’t hand out any business cards, save the one I gave the lady who gave me the lipstick (I don’t take anything from anyone without giving them my card in return). I didn’t TALK TO anyone, I was TALKED AT, pressured, URGED to start my next great opportunity. And all I saw in that room were innocent, eager ladies about to succumb to the grasp of the convincing Team Directors. Sad.

 

There were fleeting moments when I thought about what it would be like to sell Mary Kay, then stopped. Who are you thinking about? Remember how you are? Yes. Again, writing’s the only thing I care about or take seriously. Anything else is just a waste of time.

Overall, it wasn’t a scarring experience, but more of a nuisance. My biggest beef with the whole debacle is the fact that this girl DIDN’T TELL ME what I was getting myself into.

It’s not NETWORKING if you’re being convinced to join them and give them money. It’s called RECRUITING. And if it is so great, why didn’t you just TELL ME up front that it was a Mary Kay team building event? Because I wouldn’t have come? Damn straight.

I just felt swindled. Used. I thought perhaps that girl wanted to get to know me and we could do some work together; alas, I was just seen as a potential recruit to bring more money into the Unit. What a shame.

In the wise words of George W:

No, thank you. I’ll take the free samples, but won’t give up my freedom.