Selling Into The Sunset

I'm waiting for Rod Serling to walk into my living room. Really, I woke up this morning and the whole world has gone mad.

Sure, it didn't happen overnight. When I look back I see the signs. But the pervasiveness of this lunacy has finally titillated my ranting nerve. And the next person who tries to sell me something is going to get an earful.

It seems in this new world,  we don't have "friends" anymore, we have "potential customers." Friendship has been re-cast; no longer an exchange of ideas, worries, and stalwart affection, but of overpriced products.

Bridge Night is out. Now we have sales meetings and product parties. The American economy is so bent on permeating consumerism through every fiber of existence that every man, woman, and child has become a walking, rattling, snake-oil brandishing peddler - and no one is safe, even from kith and kin.

In the past year, I have endured sales pitches ranging in intensity from "passing comment" to "Vulcan Mind Meld" for the following products: stamping supplies, photo album kits, kitchen equipment, crystal, jewelry, long distance phone service, vitamins, basketry, children's books, Christmas wreaths, lingerie, crockery, cosmetics, coupon books, wrapping paper, cheesecake, pastas, t-shirts, various forms of chocolate, gourmet popcorn, and (the old standby) religion. All, mind you, by well meaning, often treasured, friends and family members. And all, (excepting the chocolate of course) unneeded unnecessary potential expenditures.

I can take anything in moderation, people. But something is wrong with a world where you can't exchange "hellos" with the neighbors without having a catalog thrown in for good measure. Where you can't pick up the phone (even when caller ID blinks "Mom!") because the checking account has already been cleaned out this month.

I recall learning, as a young traveling professional, not to make eye contact with strangers in airports for fear of a lengthy sales pitch or possibly good old-fashioned cult brainwashing. I now don that exact same posture when fetching my children from school.

What amazes me is that no one else seems to notice that this has become a cultural problem. As a group, we middle-class Americans seem only too happy to cluster around the latest pamphlet, tittering and scribbling out checks as proof of our devotion to one another as friends and fellow entrepreneurs. It's considered polite to purchase, rude to decline, and oh so "American" to take on a second (or third or fourth or fifth) career as a rep.

"Hi, I'm Susie. I'm a housewife, Mother, and proud member of the evil sisterhood of Presidential Commemorative Doorstops."
<clap clap clap>
"Here's a catalog! We have some new poses in the Lincoln collection!"
<oooooohhhhhhh!>

I have trouble understanding the ostrich mentality regarding the low return on investment these sales produce (especially when one considers the time invested.)

Once, in my younger days, I attended a recruitment meeting. Not because I was particularly interested, but because I hadn't yet developed my handy, laminated list of excuses.

The logic was thusly presented:
"Say you sell this ugly, useless widget to your friend for $15. And the sale takes, what? 5 minutes? And your take on that sale is half, or $7.50. So your wage is <calculate calculate calculate> $90 and hour!!! How would you like to be making $90 an hour, working for yourself, out of your house?!?!?!"

Hmmm. By my watch, you ordered, stocked, and labeled your wares. Drove to my house. Spent a half hour chatting. Wrote out a comprehensive sales slip. Packed up, went home, and registered the sale on your records. 90 minutes, minimum. So (before taxes) your wage is more like $5/hour, not counting your time investment in training and sales pep rallies, divided across all sales. Less than minimum wage.

Plus, in the event you didn't completely alienate a friend or relative by placing her in the awkward position of having to buy something from you in order to get you to leave (as it just cost her an additional $4.50 to serve you tea and cookies) - you now are obligated to reciprocate the sale by purchasing, in the near future, $15 worth of whatever useless crap SHE happens to be selling.

It's been well documented, this phenomenon, in Extrordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds by Charles MacKay. My man Chuck shows how otherwise intelligent people turn into idiots when engaging in collective action, and that this madness and confusion of crowds knows no bounds.

You see, we are the unwitting accomplices of a corporate structure which has discovered the ease of hoodwinking the populace into working for pennies, in order to line the coffers of a few clever merchandisers. They do this by convincing us (here's the key:) to prey on friends.

This morning I woke up, took a look around, and decided "enough." Stop the world, I'm getting off.

As a result, I'll probably be needing a new family, and some new friends. If you're interested, just wave and say "Hi."

Don't email (might think it's spam.)

Don't call (I'm not answering anymore.)

And for goodness' sake, don't be holding any paper in your hand at the time, or I might run screaming into the street.