I am one of those people that doesn't know when to keep my mouth shut. To walk away. To say no thanks. Oh, you either know people like me, or you are like me.
I'm talking about answering the phone to a telemarketer and then feeling too bad to hang up on them, because after all, they are just trying to earn a living like you and me, and for gosh sakes, they're someone's son or daughter most likely. I'm talking about saying you'll attend the Tupperware-Home-Accents-Silpada-Jewelry-Rubber-Stamping-Longeberger-or-whatever-it-might-be party and then being the dodo in the room at the party that says , "Yes, I'll book a party!" because you think you're helping your friend and you want to get the cool hostess gift at that particular moment, only to realize later that everyone in town has already been to a party and is doing their best to not attend another..
Case in point- A few Weeks ago, I was standing with three other women at Toastmasters chatting before the meeting began. One woman had previously given a speech on a product she uses; a health drink of sorts, full of vitamins that heal everything from athletes feet to arthritis (just like the way the girl's dad used Windex in the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding).
Anyway.
So she's talking about an upcoming seminar on the wonderful-cure-what-all-ails-you drink and the other two women have the good sense to scatter, leaving a cloud of dust behind them. I am oblivious, and continue to stand and listen.(Not that I have athlete's foot or arthritis, but well, you just never know) The next thing I know I hear someone say "Sure, I'll come to the seminar". (Oh. My. Ga. It's me!)
Oh ya, let me attend the seminar on a week night after a full day's work. As I speak I am silently screaming inside my head "Good God, you don't have time for this! And you don't need to buy any magical elixirs or potions at this moment with your current budgetary perimeters! Stop! Shut up! No! No! Don't say you'll go! Aaaurgh!"
A long week follows, with me first putting the seminar out of my mind, then kind of half heartedly trying to come up with a reason I cannot attend, then finally, openly dreading the meeting. She calls to remind me and tell me she is thrilledI am coming. (Mmmm hmmm. Of course she is.)
The night arrives and I get to the seminar in a small banquet room at one of our local hotels where this group, which, upon entering the banquet room, strangely reminds me of some sort of cult.(I make a mental note to not drink any Kool-Aid if it's offered) Everyone is busy getting situated in their seats to listen to the featured speaker, pens and notepaper in hand. He's some sort of doctor (no idea if he was an MD or PhD...) and he talked, with a power-point presentation that rivaled watching a TV test pattern for forty. five. minutes.
He appeared to be a complete stranger to fitness himself, judging from his couch potato physique, yet he wanted to again brag on all the benefits of the magical juice. I sat politely, only half listening, mentally making my to-do list of things I needed to be doing right at that moment.
Suddenly, my ears perked up! Wait...What was that he just said?! He was wrapping things up with the topic of how to get your friends on board with the product (Good God! Now I realize it's one of those pyramid deals, however he used the word "Pillar".) Uh oh. I am now going to have to try to gracefully to dodge a pitch from my Toastie friend. He tells how you tell two friends how they can sell the product to save on the high price of the magic juice and they tell two friends, who tell two more friends and so on and so on. At this point, I realize that I am in a full blown cold sweat. (Sweet Jesus, when will this evening end?!)
After what seems like an eternity, (but actually turned out to be an hour and ten minutes, start to finish) the portly doctor slash health expert finished up and slipped out of the meeting (most likely for an all-you-can-eat-buffet-restaurant that Reno is a known for) and my friend then hungrily eyes me to see how ripe for joining the club I am. She introduces me to her friend (obviously the woman who got her on board) and then suggests we all go someplace for Kool-aid coffee.
I, finally gathering my wits about me, politely tell her I am really beat and I really need to get home, early day tomorrow and all that...
Several menacing phone calls ensued the following week with enticing offers of what the miracle juice could do for my health and my budget. At last I could do nothing but be honest. I told her no, I was not interested in drinking nor selling the product but I was very happy to hear that her allergies had gone away and she was able to hike again, thanks to the incredible beverage.
So the moral to this story is...If you know people like me, and you care at all about them, you need to watch out for them. Help to save them from themselves. Real friends don't let friends attend miracle juice seminars.
