Confessions of a Mary Kay Party Crasher

WARNING: frequent exposure to cynical ranting may or may not cause one to think, demonstrate erratic and anti-social behaviors, change one's habits, or become irrevocably depressed. Contents of this post are mildly cynical, please proceed with caution.

Last week my neighbor says to me, "So I have a friend who does Mary Kay and she talked me into hosting a party... " etc. etc. "It's on Thursday at 11:00." I groaned, laughed and agreed to come. "There won't be any selling, just friends, cake and fun." Sure, I thought. But I showed up, because let's face it, sticking by your friends through thick and thin, and, yes, even Mary Kay parties is part of this American life, right?

The MK consultant or whatever fancy name they're called now gives us the whole spiel. She's so excited to give us facials today because if she does 100 she'll get free crystal earrings... Happy to oblige we (there are only two of us there) smile politely. I'd missed the facial memo, and I had already done my face for the day. But it's OK, because this is all in the name of friendship. So, off with the face, and then Ms. MK eagerly says, "Oh, would you like to take your eye make-up off?" As she passes me the soaked cotton ball she informs me that this is the top-selling eye-makeup remover... EVER. I try not to roll my eyes, or snort unbecomingly, or do anything else to belie my incredulity, but my polite smile is waning. It doesn't get any better than this over the next two hours. In fact, it quickly gets worse.

She gives us the business scoop, while her 10 month old child is spreading cake crumbs all over the house, and in desperate need of a nose wipe. Just as she's greedily told us she made $100 last weekend, and I'm beginning to feel as if there is a dollar sign smack dab in the middle of my forehead, there's a knock at the door and a bewildered woman asks if anyone belongs to the child she's just pulled out of the street. I'm sure you can guess who's child it was.

Now let me skip to the part where Ms. MK corners me and presses me to tell her how much I like the products we used today. Sure, I finally admit, but I really like what I'm using. Without even a blink of an eye, she asks me what I'd like to order. My smile is now quite forced and I tell her that I wouldn't like to order anything today. Next she takes the career tack. I'm thinking, I don't use the products... ummm, why would I want to sell them? In the end I think her smile was every bit as forced as mine was. I gathered up my children and made a hasty retreat, feeling every ounce of the party crasher that I was.

I spent the next few hours debating the ethical tight spot I'd put myself into. I didn't intend to buy anything, perhaps I shouldn't have gone. But why should accepting a friend's invitation be such a sticky dilemma?