04-14-2018, 09:54 PM
My account isn't about race, but I think it has a bearing.
Many moons ago, a good friend got into one of these 'Pyramid Selling' schemes which didn't involve
marketing large Eygptian buildings, but selling dolphin-friendly soap and other stuff at very high prices.
The company is well known in America, it's business name sounds like semi-religious movement and it's
been plying it's trade in the UK for many years now. I tried to convince my friend that I wasn't interested
and really, he shouldn't be either.
But he seemed mesmerised by the brochures that promised riches beyond his wildest dreams.
One evening, he invited me to one of their meetings at a nearby hotel. It's quite a swanky establishment
and so, I donned a suit and pulled on a tie. My friend arrived and said he was glad that I'd made an effort
to look good and I was surprised by this remark.
I felt his usual easy-going demeanour had left him for a view that a certain perception was far-more
important than our friendship and he was nervous that I might have let him down.
He told me that someone called an 'up-line Manager' would be taking us to the meeting in her car and
my friend would be grateful if I seemed interested if she asked about my opinion regarding the selling
techniques of the company.
I begrudgingly agreed and when the elderly lady arrived, I sat in the front-seat and awaited my role of
falsehood.
She spoke as if I was almost a convert and that I had become one of my friend's disciples! I nodded and
looked as if I was contemplating the things she said about the vast wealth I'd acquire from joining the group
and I was really happy when we pulled into the hotel car park.
Walking over to the Venue Room, I softly told my friend that I was feeling like I was a mark... being played
and he apologised and added that he may have said things to the woman that he shoudn't have.
I nodded and replied that I'd go through with the evening, but it was the end of our friendship.
The room had around fifty people in and after shaking hands with many of these strangers -folk who were
pleasant and seemed happy to meet me, we sat down in one of the many rows of chairs.
I was told there'd be a speaker who would explain his success in using the management criteria of the
company and looking around, I noticed that some of the people had note-pads at the ready.
After the most puzzling speech from a well-dressed man with a 'surfer-dude' attitude, my friend informed
me that the evening was only halfway done and we were now taking a break for drinks.
Over the rim of my pint of beer, I took stock of the crowd as my friend mingled -or fawned with his fellow
money-makers.
There was a side-room that I hadn't noticed at first and as I idled over to be able to see better, I saw a
group of around twenty people sitting down looking worried. There was one man standing and he looked
like he'd never worn a suit before and seemed to be uncomfortable in it. A large tattoo on his neck could
be seen even though his tie was pulled tight.
The people -who I guessed were his 'customers-come-assistants', looked like they'd had hard lives and
didn't normally run in the social cirlce of those drinking wine and spirits in the room I stood in.
I smiled a greeting at those looking at me and then returned to where my friend was, asking him why that
crowd wasn't in here with their fellow-members.
He glanced over towards the room and said it was because 'they're rough'... the kind from social housing
and I nodded that I now understood what this was all about. I finished my beer and five minutes later, stood
at a bus-stop with hopes of getting one that would be going my way.
We're tribal, we make groups of like-minded people and cajole each other that we're different from the others.
Maybe I belong with the group in the side-room and maybe I don't and just felt it wasn't right.
But one thing was for certain as I walked home, I didn't belong in the pyramid-selling world.
Many moons ago, a good friend got into one of these 'Pyramid Selling' schemes which didn't involve
marketing large Eygptian buildings, but selling dolphin-friendly soap and other stuff at very high prices.
The company is well known in America, it's business name sounds like semi-religious movement and it's
been plying it's trade in the UK for many years now. I tried to convince my friend that I wasn't interested
and really, he shouldn't be either.
But he seemed mesmerised by the brochures that promised riches beyond his wildest dreams.
One evening, he invited me to one of their meetings at a nearby hotel. It's quite a swanky establishment
and so, I donned a suit and pulled on a tie. My friend arrived and said he was glad that I'd made an effort
to look good and I was surprised by this remark.
I felt his usual easy-going demeanour had left him for a view that a certain perception was far-more
important than our friendship and he was nervous that I might have let him down.
He told me that someone called an 'up-line Manager' would be taking us to the meeting in her car and
my friend would be grateful if I seemed interested if she asked about my opinion regarding the selling
techniques of the company.
I begrudgingly agreed and when the elderly lady arrived, I sat in the front-seat and awaited my role of
falsehood.
She spoke as if I was almost a convert and that I had become one of my friend's disciples! I nodded and
looked as if I was contemplating the things she said about the vast wealth I'd acquire from joining the group
and I was really happy when we pulled into the hotel car park.
Walking over to the Venue Room, I softly told my friend that I was feeling like I was a mark... being played
and he apologised and added that he may have said things to the woman that he shoudn't have.
I nodded and replied that I'd go through with the evening, but it was the end of our friendship.
The room had around fifty people in and after shaking hands with many of these strangers -folk who were
pleasant and seemed happy to meet me, we sat down in one of the many rows of chairs.
I was told there'd be a speaker who would explain his success in using the management criteria of the
company and looking around, I noticed that some of the people had note-pads at the ready.
After the most puzzling speech from a well-dressed man with a 'surfer-dude' attitude, my friend informed
me that the evening was only halfway done and we were now taking a break for drinks.
Over the rim of my pint of beer, I took stock of the crowd as my friend mingled -or fawned with his fellow
money-makers.
There was a side-room that I hadn't noticed at first and as I idled over to be able to see better, I saw a
group of around twenty people sitting down looking worried. There was one man standing and he looked
like he'd never worn a suit before and seemed to be uncomfortable in it. A large tattoo on his neck could
be seen even though his tie was pulled tight.
The people -who I guessed were his 'customers-come-assistants', looked like they'd had hard lives and
didn't normally run in the social cirlce of those drinking wine and spirits in the room I stood in.
I smiled a greeting at those looking at me and then returned to where my friend was, asking him why that
crowd wasn't in here with their fellow-members.
He glanced over towards the room and said it was because 'they're rough'... the kind from social housing
and I nodded that I now understood what this was all about. I finished my beer and five minutes later, stood
at a bus-stop with hopes of getting one that would be going my way.
We're tribal, we make groups of like-minded people and cajole each other that we're different from the others.
Maybe I belong with the group in the side-room and maybe I don't and just felt it wasn't right.
But one thing was for certain as I walked home, I didn't belong in the pyramid-selling world.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.