There was a woman that used to come visit my mom when I was little.
Visit is actually too kind.
A 300 pound woman in a mumu and WAY too much perfume used to invade my house like the Germans when I was little. (That description is a lot closer to my memories.)
The Avon lady.
This woman was like a crack dealer back in the day.
And she never took no for an answer.
She only took orders
Fast forward to today.
I have a friend that recently held a party for her friends.
Products and services were demonstrated and sold, and she got a lot of free product.
Was it Avon?
Was it aroma therapy candles?
Some sort of financial planning thing?
Not even close.
Botox and designer jeans.
I shit you not.
Since when is crappy perfume not good enough?
Now it has to be several hundred dollar denim and facial injections of poison.
I am a little leary of the whole botox thing.
No judgement here, if its your thing, feel free.
But I would never be able to shake the feeling that I would be that one in a million person that had the bad reaction.
Freeze my face in a permanent Elvis sneer.
Like when you were little and your mom told you not to make a face or it might freeze like that?
Odd the stuff you take serious when you were little.
Back to the old school Avon lady.
She had this really thick southern accent and when she entered the house, her voice would boom off of the walls.
She has been dead for twenty years and a cousin of mine will go into back spasms if you imitate that voice.
I will sneak up behind him during the holidays and do the voice.
But I will not even attempt to replicate the overwhelming perfume that used to arrive 5 minutes before she did.
However, if memory serves, she always brought coffee cake, a sure indicator that she was going to stay awhile.
I think that is where the whole coffee thing started for me.
Speaking of the Avon lady.
She was actually a nationally ranked Avon fire-breather.
Absolute badass, Avon style, bitches.
This was back in the days that women didn’t make a lot of money.
Not like they do a crap load better now, but back then it was classic repression.
Now? Its a lot more covert.
I ran into an Avon lady the other day and she was a damned cream puff in comparison.
It is the type of job that requires that certain lack of concern for intruding.
A solid saleswoman of this type has the type of mind that it never occurs to her for a SECOND that you are not thrilled to see her coming.
Self fulfilling prophesy there.
Because you will be happy to see her.
And they always have a lot of samples.
Because, like any good drug dealer…
The first hits free.
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