I think that part of the Mary Kay training process involves education on how to pinpoint women who find themselves unable to say no, because I've been asked by strangers WAY TOO MANY TIMES if they can put makeup on my face.
True story: one woman approached me while I was working and actually said to me, TO MY FACE, "You know, you have such a beautiful face but your skin really detracts from your looks. I can help you with that." I sobbed on the inside, but only after I pictured myself jumping over the counter, screeching, and scratching her face with my dirty used-book hands and giving her a staph infection. I am pretty sure that it's not part of their training to give someone a compliment and then slap them across the face with it. She was just... stupid and mean. I was able to say no to her.
Then this lovely lady asked me if I wanted a free facial and I am so pretty and charming and wouldn't I make a great Mary Kay saleswoman! I was so pleased that she didn't tell me I have the complexion of moldy cottage cheese that I accepted her offer. I knew all along I didn't want to sell makeup but I thought, hey, free facial!
I arrived at her big, spotless home in Flower Mound, Texas, and thought, GO HOME NOW, GO HOME NOW, but she welcomed me in and sat me down at her dining room table, which was arranged with all the pink and white Mary Kay bottles, and she started my facial.
Oh, no, wait. You know what happened? I started my own facial. Because her whole agenda was teaching ME how to do my OWN face with HER products. If I had known that I'd be giving myself a facial at some lady's football field sized dining room table I would have said no. (Or at least tried to.) But I sat there and washed my own face in a bowl of water, applied the products, and then more makeup than I will ever need unless I am on stage or in the movies. Do you know what it's like to do all of this while someone's staring at you? It's a lot of pressure, considering I don't wear a ton of makeup and don't even know how to apply foundation evenly. I don't wear it!
Then she proceeded to try to recruit me to be a Mary Kay lady because don't I someday want to drive a pink Cadillac? (Um, that'd be a big NO.) She was relentless. I explained that I worked forty hours a week, had four classes plus a lab at school, AND was planning my wedding long-distance and I hardly had time to see my own fiance. I got a lot of bullshit reasons why I could and should do it, and I ended up feeling guilty enough to just buy something from her and leave. It was $19 face wash. I don't spend that much money on my SHIRTS and SHOES, never mind face wash or cosmetics. I'm such a pushover.
Anyway, I got home and it was the wrong face wash. It was a heavy, greasy cleanser for aging skin. Thanks, lady.
A couple weeks ago I was by myself at Walmart, browsing the pots and pans because I had just burned the bottom of my last sauce pan (while I was STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO IT!) and convinced Gabe we needed a new set. I started texting Gabe a price of the set I wanted, and this lady comes over and says excuse me. So I stepped out of her way and kept texting. Then she says, "Can I ask you something?" And I'm thinking, LADY. I'm wearing a red corduroy jacket and a green scarf. NOT a blue vest. I DO NOT work here. Then she launched into an approach for Mary Kay and inside I'm like, No, not again, please, not again! But she actually complimented my clothing, said I was cute and stylish, and I have beautiful eyes. Then she said, "Let me spoil you."
Now, ladies? Can you at least see the draw in this? You're a young, sleep deprived mom who's lucky to get a shower in, and someone says you're pretty AND stylish, and then the magic words: spoil you. SPOIL. YOU. And it's not some creepy man? You say yes. We'd all say yes, right?
(Or am I still a pushover? I know that line was probably in the training too but come on. I need to be spoiled. Even if it's with too much foundation and blush.)
I'm going to take her literally and assume "I'm going to spoil you," will not eventually mean "Here's a bowl of water, now GIVE YOURSELF A FACIAL." I'm going to be in her book, and I don't even know what that means, but I hope it doesn't mean she's going to kill me, put a frilly dress on me, give me some rouge and photograph me for her Book of Life Size Dolls I Made.
I have the appointment this evening. I'd rather walk and run again, but I hope I won't mind being "spoiled." And I better be back home in time to watch The Office!