The other day I saw the ugliest Mary Kay lady ever. I’m talking boo nasty. She was in the Wal*mart parking lot, loading up her pink rig, which, incidentally, is no longer a Cadillac or even a Lincoln. Now, apparently, the top sellers get — hold onto your eyelash curlers — pink Jaguars.
And I got to thinking…just how does an unattractive Mary Kay lady make a living? I mean, if she still looks like Godzilla even with access to all the make-up in the world, what hope do the rest of us have?
Clearly, this gal must have the most incredible sales pitch in the free world.
She could probably put Dale Carnegie to shame, right? And as much as I hate the personal sales pitch… you know, “I’m starting a Home-Based Business” (translation: run for your freakin’ lives or suffer the consequences), I must admit I’ve been a victim of a couple of good ones myself. After all, I personally own a water-powered Rainbow Vacuum, which as far as I can tell, is the only six-hundred pound electric sweeper on the market today which requires its own septic tank.
Obviously, I’m no stranger to the perfect sales pitch. And actually, I’m very intrigued… just how does she overcome all that unsightliness while bravely soldiering on to achieve mega-success in the field of beauty? I need to know.
I sidle up to the Jag. Ms. Mary Kay is loading up the trunk with her purchases… mostly normal stuff like charcoal, lawn chairs, diet Pepsi and generic potato chips. I see onion dip, citronella candles and water-balloon launchers. Not much in the way of toiletries, but then, being a top-seller, I’m sure she probably gets her share of freebies from the home office.
The curiosity is now killing me. Unable to stop myself, I stammer, “Hey… I hear Mary Kay make-up is really top-of-the-line. Do you think you could come by sometime and tell me all about your products? I’d like to discover a glamorous new me.” (That last part was over the top, I know, but hey, I was caught up in the moment.)
At which point Ms. Mary Kay looks at me for a moment, sizing up my potential. Will she be able to turn this ugly duckling into a swan? Do I look like a girl with enough friends to merit a full-blown home demonstration? And most importantly, might my purchases be enough to get her the all-expense-paid trip to Hawaii?
Finally, the reply I’ve waited for comes: “I’m sorry, honey… you’ll have to talk to the wife about all that… I’m just borrowin’ her car.”