Did I ever tell you about the guy I dated that was an a.mw.ay distributor? I’m sure I’ve talked about him before, but I probably left that detail out. I was young, he was impressionable, and so on one spring weekend I found myself at an a.mw.ay convention in North Carolina. I won’t go into detail, but I will say that ain’t my type of hype. I just couldn’t get into it. He, on the other hand, drank the kool aid…ice cold…and through a straw. I remember coming home one day to a living room full of am.wa.y toilet paper and laundry detergent. That was the beginning of the end.
Ever since then, I’ve had an aversion to the whole “own your own business by selling stuff out of a catalog” thing. I just can’t get into the candles, jewelry, tupperware or cooking utensils. Again, ain’t my type of hype. But if you like it, I love it. I’m just not gonna buy anything from you.
Which brings me to that chick Mary. Those broads in their pink Cadillacs are ferocious! They find me everywhere I go. It’s usually at a Walmart or Target, and it’s almost every time I step foot into the midtown Wally World, I am approached.
I get pissed every time they approach me. I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended that I am always a target. Since I dated the am.w.ay guy, I know the technique very well: strike up a seemingly casual conversation, make a comment about my appearance, ask what I do for a living or if I “ever thought about owning my own business” and then BOOM suddenly they’ve got my name and number and are ushering me to their next party or, better yet, a party of my own. Except I can see that bullshit coming a mile away. When they ask my name I may or may not give a real name. When they ask where I work I say “downtown.” And when they ask if I ever thought about owning my own business I smile and say “nope.”
Today I was stopped by one of those pink ladies. She was so bold as to approach me while I was in the checkout line. She handed me her card and went in for the kill. She asked me if I had a card and I said no. She whipped out a pen and told me she’d take my name and number and call me to talk further. When I told her I wasn’t going to give her my phone number that sweet smile disappeared and…get ready for this…
…she snatched the card out of my hand and said she would need her card back since we wouldn’t be exchanging information. Then she walked off without another word.