The Traveling Saleswoman

I thought it couldn’t get any worse when the hostess wanted to have her party outside on the deck and within a few minutes I got bitten by several mosquitos.

Then I thought it couldn’t get any worse when it started to rain and she still insisted that the party be outside.

Then I thought it couldn’t get any worse when I tasted some awful alcoholic concoction she had made and it was so foul, I had to spit it out when she wasn’t looking.

Then I thought it couldn’t get any worse when 80% of the people at the party smoked throughout.

Then I thought it couldn’t get any worse when a large item on my display toppled over, sending two glass items smashing down onto the cement floor below.

Then I thought it couldn’t get any worse when the 3 year old daughter of one of the guests slipped and fell fully clothed into the swimming pool.

Then I thought it couldn’t get any worse when the lady who booked her own party asked if I would mind sharing it with a jewelry rep.

Rarely have I been so glad to pack up and leave!

I am not sure which scenario is worse.

1) The party where the hostess is expecting 10 people and 20 show up, leaving her short of food and the consultant unprofessionally scrambling to write orders on scrap paper and persuade people to share catalogs and having to try and do a presentation over a lot of background chatter.

2) The party where the hostess tells you she’s expecting 20-25 guests, she prepares a ton of food, you get your husband to drop off extra catalogs, and then only 6 people show and everyone is left feeling a bit deflated.

Both have happened to me. Neither is much fun.

One of the most fascinating aspects of this job is that I get to go into such a wide assortment of homes. From cramped apartments with ratty old furniture to gorgeous but sterile McMansions, I’ve seen it all - and everything in between.

Last night’s party fell into the latter camp. It wasn’t so much the size of the house; it was that the whole place was immaculately staged, as if it would be imminently featuring in a photo shoot for “Country Sampler” magazine. I’m talking old-fashioned washboards leaning artistically against antique desks, tons of embroidered sayings on pictures and pillows, all the sage greens and cranberry reds and beiges on the walls. It was gorgeous and perfect and barely looked lived in. How in the world do they live like that with a 4 year old child and both parents working full time?! Where are they hiding the piles of mail, the household clutter, the discarded sneakers and the random toy pieces that litter my house?

The thing that cracked me up the most? There was no trashcan in the kitchen. It was many feet away, down the hallway, hidden in an artistically designed wooden box in order to blend in with the furniture. The hostess “has a thing about trash near food”. OK, that’s where practicality would trump aesthetics for me….

The party I did tonight was in a very urban area, far from the quiet town where I live. It reminded me of the city I lived in before I had kids. The hostess and guests were all black, and appeared to all be single moms. There was an ever-changing assortment of brothers, nieces and babies, all with unusual names, and it was hard to keep track of everyone and figure out who went with which mom! Fathers were noticeable by their absence.

I arrived to set up at 5.10pm and found the place in disarray, but everyone was put to work and the place was soon transformed into party central. Some kids cleaned, others were dispatched to the store for food and ice - everyone had a role. The invite said 6pm but the first guest didn’t show up until around 7.15pm. Loud reggae music blared from the stereo. We ate fried chicken and danced and found surprising things in common.

It was a lot of fun, but very chaotic and quite a long way removed from my usual crowd! I was grateful for my GPS to guide me home to more familiar surroundings.

I hardly needed to bring my kit to last night’s party - the hostess already had so many of our products in her house, I could have done my presentation with just what she had lying around! Most of the guests were past attendees as well, so I had to work hard to keep their interest and present things in a new and fresh way. I don’t mind this - it keeps me on my toes. But I had to laugh when I was presenting the specials and people kept saying, “Already got that. Got that last year. Have that one too.” I got a booking for later this month, and I think some of the same people will be coming to that, so I need to change out several items and freshen up my display before then to give them something different to look at.

But even at a good show like this, there are always one or two things that make me roll my eyes. On this occasion, it was the lack of any handtowels in the bathroom, and the fact that the hostess’ not-even-two year old was still awake at 9.30pm when I left….

I did a party last night for a group of older, moneyed ladies. I think there was only one other person in the room other than myself under the age of 50. Some observations on what differentiated this crowd from my usual party attendees:

* They are not big spenders. The average order was $37, compared to $65 at another recent party with a younger group.
* They were mostly buying stuff for gifts, not for themselves.
* As a result, not one of the 16 women in attendance could be enticed to book a party to get free products.
* Only 2 of the 16 had an email address.
* Only 2 of the 16 paid by credit card - the rest with check or cash.
* All the check numbers were really high, because they’ve been with the same bank for 30 years!

At the party I did last night, someone brought along their 6 year old son and he was permitted to watch “Bee Movie” while I did my presentation…4 feet away. So I had to compete with Jerry Seinfeld and Renee Zellweger for the crowd’s attention.

My listeners were also distracted by the antics of the hostess’ exuberant dog. He was fond of jumping on everyone, snatching food out of people’s hands, and chewing all my pens. The hostess kept saying “He’s very clean!” Yeah lady, that may be the case, but that still doesn’t mean I want him gnawing my supplies. Why she couldn’t confine him to an adjacent room is beyond me.

On the plus side, upon my departure the hostess pulled me aside and said, “You do a very good party. I would recommend you.”

I did my first-ever outdoor home party today.  The weather here has decided to jump straight from 30º and rain/snow to 80º and sunny in the space of a week.  Whatever happened to spring?  Anyway, I arrived at my hostess’ house and she sugggested setting up my display in the front yard.

The first problem was the wind.  The taller items in my display kept blowing over, and I had a couple of near-misses where I caught things mid-fall.  It wasn’t particularly elegant, but it did the trick.  I solved the problem by tying them to my display rack with some string I found in my bag of supplies.  I guess there’s an advantage to bringing everything but the kitchen sink to a party.

The second issue was that random people kept stopping to look at my display, thinking that it was a yard sale.  At several points the hostess was inside the house and some woman would park her car, stroll over and start looking at my wares.  I would have no idea whether this was one of the hostess’ invited guests, or a complete stranger.  Not wanting to be rude, I’d make polite conversation until the hostess came out and indicated whether she knew the person.  Most of the women looked taken aback when they were informed they were gatecrashing a private party.

Thirdly, I was unprepared for the heat and sun exposure.  Wearing my typical home party uniform of black pants with a smart shirt, I roasted in the hot sun.  I had brought my husband’s car, which does not contain the well-stocked diaper bags that are my constant companions in my usual mommy-mobile, and thus I had no sunscreen with me.  By the end of the party, my arms and decolletage were a delicate shade of pink, nicely complementing the strawberries and sangria the hostess had elected to serve.

Anyone need to fry an egg?  Hey, don’t dirty a skillet, come over and use my radiating skin!