Believe it or not, I once sold cosmetics door to door for "that Famous Cosmetics Company." I'm deliberately obfuscating the name because I don't know if it's legally safe to just come right out and name it. You know, the one that rhymes with "shave on."
How did I come to sell for That Famous Cosmetics Company?
I was kicking back with my pals one day when my buddy C.B. said when the oil bust happened in the Permian Basin in the mid-1980s, he found himself out of work. "So I got a job selling cosmetics," he said. "I did all right."
It sounded like easy money to me: Order a mess of catalogs, pass them out, take orders, deliver the stuff and rake in the dough.
So I checked in with the area manager for That Famous Cosmetics Company.
"It's not so strange, being a man and working for us," said Ms. Manager. "About 2 percent of our sales reps are men."
It was all working out pretty well: I passed out my catalogs, I'd put in the orders, the boxes of cosmetics would show up at the door, I'd put the orders together and a check would come in the mail. A check in the mail! I'd found "Easy Street"!
Then one day while delivering an order a customer's husband met me at the door.
"What are you doing selling cosmetics?" he said, squinting his eyes at me.
"Making money," I said with a big grin and wide eyes.
"You're trying to meet women…" he said.
"No sir, just selling the stuff," I said.
"Well we're not buying from you anymore," said the man. And he slammed the door.
With that it seemed a curse had been put on my venture. Sales started to fall off and the easy money wasn't so easy anymore.
And you know, I've always been about the easy money.
Grant McGee is a long-time broadcaster and former truck driver who rides bicycles and likes to talk about his many adventures on the road of life.
Contact him at: firstname.lastname@example.org.