About two weeks ago, I was meeting my mother at T.G.I. Friday’s for dinner and met Steve, someone who recognized me from Beauty and the Geek. Well, initially, he recognized me, but he couldn’t remember from where. He asked if he’d seen me earlier in the week, where I worked—I told him about the bar exam—but he looked stumped.
“Could it have been further back?”
“Yeah…”
“How often do you watch TV?”
His eyes lit up immediately. Apparently, he and his wife watched the last four episodes, he thought I did a great job, etc. Before I went inside, he gave me his card, which had a website listed on the back. He said I should take a look, used my first name as a “password,” got my phone number and that was it.
Before people start freaking out, it was a one-time offer, one that I’m not sure why I accepted in the first place. Still, he got my number, I checked out the site that night and realized it wasn’t the first time I’d seen it. Hoeft Enterprises sells a bunch of random products, one being XS, a drink that has no sugar, no carbs, gives you an energy boost, causes immaculate conception—the whole nine yards. I recognized the site because it was something being passed around on the set of Fall Into Me (that indie film where I helped out as an extra during an overnight shoot). Matthew Feeney has one for breakfast, one for lunch, then a sensible dinner, then kills a cow with his bare hands and eats it because he has so much energy. …Okay, maybe not, but he really likes the stuff.
Steve called me shortly thereafter and we set up a meeting for this evening. I agreed to go even though I was pretty sure I knew what was going to happen. I’d already decided I didn’t want to get into direct sales for any reason—I’d turned down a similar offer shortly after graduating from college and ended up getting into an e-mail flame war with the person who set up the meeting. (The employment ad they published said nothing about sales and the company name was different as well, but I stuck around ‘cause I had nothing better to do that afternoon.) Still, I said I would, so I met up with him a couple hours ago.
I’m trying to imagine just how frustrated he might have been afterwards, because the only thing he got out of me was a willingness to listen to a CD he lent me (and that was after I suggested that if he wanted me to, I would). Beyond that, anytime he made a suggestion to help me “see the light” about the scheme he was presenting… nothing doing.
I’m not gonna go into any details about how “direct business” works or whatever the hell it was called—it’s more fun to think about the tactics he was using to try and convince me that “all the money I could make would be totally awesome, man!” Not in those terms, of course, but that was the general premise. Should any of you end up cornered by one of these people and don’t want to kill him, take notes about what happened to me. And carry a pen-knife just in case.
He started out by trying to become my friend. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course; any person you’re having a conversation with will want to get to know you better. However, when he starts asking about your dreams and what you want to do with your life within the first half hour… that’s not just because he wants to be your buddy.
What was kinda funny was that I couldn’t think of any major things I want to accomplish with my life. I never planned on being on national TV, but it happened nonetheless. I’ll be happy to live a normal life with normal friends and a normal family—if nothing spectacular happens, I’ll be content.
Since that didn’t work, he pulled out a palm pilot and showed me a list of goals he wants to achieve. I want to repeat that: he pulled out a palm pilot and showed me a list of goals he wants to achieve. I don’t see anything wrong with keeping the list, but keeping the list with him at all times?! Anyway, some of them were pretty impressive: fly in an F-16 and build a three-hole golf course in his backyard. Others involved helping his mother and wife retire soon. What amused me the most about that was a chart regarding old people in the workforce: a certain percentage work into their 70s, some are dependant on their family, 2% are financially independent… and he wants to help his mother retire. Hmmm…
Another thing I noticed was his body language (or sometimes the lack thereof). He was leaning forward on a regular basis, especially when trying to express his excitement about the program and how it can help people get loads o’ cash. Had I been leaning forward at the same time, it probably would have looked like I was excited as well, so I made sure to sit upright and oftentimes have my arm hanging off the back of my chair. If I was getting passionate about the subject, I wouldn’t be moving away from it, would I?
Then I pushed a button to see what would happen. According to the diagram, the sponsor gets a certain percentage of what the seller earns; if there’s a second seller, the first gets the same percentage, but has to give up part of it to the original sponsor. He admitted that was the case, so I said it reminded me of a pyramid scheme.
“That offends me very much.”
That’s what he said, but his facial expression never changed. No frown, no squint, no creases in his forehead or tensing of his muscles, no sputtering or cursing… nothing. I’m not even sure if the tone of his voice changed—he just said, “That offends me very much.”
For those who’ve never heard of pyramid schemes, you get a list of ten names—you mail a dollar to the person on top, delete his name, add yours to the bottom and you eventually get one dollar from a bajillion people once you finally get to the top of the list. However, pyramid schemes are highly illegal. I got a couple during my first year of law school and ended up contacting the Attorney General about it. I never heard back, but I did what I was supposed to.
That story smoothed the waters over and he was okay again (assuming he wasn’t okay after I said it). I apologized for the comparison, but it was insincere. For the most part, I didn’t care about being there. At one point, he asked me why I showed up. I responded honestly, “Because you asked me to.” I really didn’t have much interest in what he had to say—I was also kinda pissed that Caribou Coffee sells bottles of Sprite for $1.75—but I showed up. He appreciated my honesty, though I imagine he wasn’t exactly thrilled that I wasn’t there for the cash cow he was presenting.
That was pretty much it. He let me keep the fliers and asked me to listen to the CD, though he “needs” to get it back, so he’ll be calling me again on Wednesday. We went our separate ways and I noticed that the car he got into wasn’t particularly stylish. (Apparently, he got the list a little while ago and just added his name to the bottom.)
Will I cave? No. I don’t have much interest in getting involved in sales, regardless of whether I can earn upwards of $100,000 while working five hours a week. It was hard enough asking people to buy wreaths when I was in Boy Scouts and that was when the neighbors would have mercy and order something just because I showed up. Nowadays, there’s no way I could bring myself to do it, if for no other reason than I’d start getting major cramps in my back from leaning forward so much.
