You’re a “top seller” for a multilevel-marketing company (that you SWEAR isn’t an MLM company) and you’re KILLING IT.
I know… I’d totally get it if I just applied your special cream or tried on those pants or popped the vinegar pills four times a day for six years. I mean, really, I just HAVE to try it.
It will transform my life. And my bank account.
I only have to shell out $1499 and within a year, I’ll have two beach houses, four blondes, and a Lambo.
Don’t worry, they tell you at their fancy conventions with flashy lights. Your friends and family don’t mean it when they say, “no, I’m not interested.”
You do what you need to do to bring them around. You shove those magic pills down their throats as if you’re waterboarding them with Juice Plus. They’ll thank you one day.
After all, you’re the CEO of your own company. And the best part is that the only “payroll” you have to worry about is the payroll you’ll need to collect from your other job that pays your bills while you wait for fortune to strike. One day soon, of course.
But here’s the thing, guys. There’s one little secret that they don’t tell you about at your fancy training seminars where everyone is covered in unnecessarily expensive makeup filled with magnetic freaking pixie dust.
Everyone is starting to hate you.
No, not just the kind of hate where they avoid you and you lose a friend or two.
The kind of hate that leads to them having daydreams of holding a pillow over your face until you stop breathing.
It’s bad, my friends. And you don’t even realize it.
You were too busy partying it up on that trip you “won” as a “top seller” (but then had to pay for your own airfare, hotel, car, food, and other travel expenses).
We didn’t throw that party because we wanted your lousy plastic containers. We didn’t go to the big event because we wanted a chance of winning free stickers for our nails. We didn’t give up a Friday night with our significant other because we wanted to spend $400 and get a free necklace that even the dollar store wouldn’t sell.
We did it because we pity you. Because after your desperate sales pitch for you to have a party or attend a party or buy your stuff we think “my GOD, they must really be hurting for cash. I’d better help them.”
Didn’t you realize that your pictures with your “sisters” from your cult… errr… excuse me… “family of sellers”… were getting fewer and fewer “likes” on social media?
Somewhere along the way it happened. Somewhere between you applying your “essential oils” to your friends and your mud mask training seminars. You turned into the creepy person who, after botching the first date, doesn’t understand why people aren’t calling you back. Or emailing you back. Or texting you back.
You keep going. And going.
And then, God forbid, it happens. We run into you at the grocery store. And before we can dodge you or feign diarrhea or Ebola, you’re up our rear end with your happy pills like a doctor checking your prostate.
Do your thing. Sell your stuff. Drink your Kool Aid.
But just know that, and I’m just saying this as your less fat friend, that your products don’t help you lose weight or anything else for that matter. Your skin still looks like the surface of Mars. Your “natural scent” hasn’t changed for the better – as a matter of fact, you smell like a wet poodle. Your jewelry makes you look like a little kid playing dress-up.
As your buddy, someone has to say it — your new “job title” is fake and we’re all judging you for using it.
And you’re really, really annoying… so please save your remaining friendships and leave us alone.
The truth hurts. But one day you’ll thank me for it.