by Annette Dashofy
Last week I spent a day helping my Avon District Sales Manager at a job fair. While it was my first event of this type, I have worked booths at health fairs in the past, and as I expected, it wasn’t much different. Except, of course, for the focus being on employment.
I had two goals for the day. First, I hoped to sign up some new recruits to my sales team, since that’s my next step in Avon. I help them earn money, and as a result, I earn money. Win win. My second goal was to sell a few products. I had a nice display of fragrances set up and I had a few odds and ends in my bag…stuff left over from visiting customers.
For the most part, it was fun.
Key words there: FOR THE MOST PART.
One gentleman (and I use the term loosely) came bustling through and stopped at our table. Wearing a snazzy, expensive-looking suit, he obviously was not one of the college kids looking for a summer job. He scanned our wares, told us he had two secretaries he wanted to get gifts for, and asked if we had anything. I put on my salesperson smile and launched into a pitch about the great deal I was offering on this fragrance gift set.
He cut me off with a question. “Is it free?”
“Err. Well. No.”
“Don’t you have anything for free?”
My manager and I exchanged puzzled looks. She pointed out that all we had were some samples, but they weren’t much for a “gift.”
I dove into my bag and pulled out a travel sized hand lotion and a couple of lip balms and told him these were the only inexpensive items I had and they cost a dollar each.
That price appealed to the cheapskate…err… “gentleman.”
“Don’t you have another hand lotion?” he asked.
“No. Sorry. I only have one of those.”
“I take all of them,” he said, pointing to the three items in my hand. He pulled some ones from his wallet, stacked them together VERY neatly, and laid them on the table. Then he snatched the three items from me and started to leave.
But you see, I’m a crime writer. I have a suspicious mind. And something didn’t look right about the neatness of that stack of one dollar bills.
I picked them up and fanned them out. And discovered there were only TWO.
Now, if the guy had been at all nice… if he weren’t wearing a super expensive suit while trying to find some cheap trinket for the secretaries who labored for him...I probably would have kept my mouth shut, allowed myself to assume it was an error. But instead…
“Ah, sir,” I called after him. “You only left two dollars.”
He froze in his tracks. Busted. He turned around and sputtered, “Oh, I thought you said these were two for a dollar.”
“No. Everything was a dollar EACH.”
At that point he basically winged one of the lip balms back at me and made his escape.
You will never convince me this chump believed those lip balms were 2 for a dollar. Not only was he a tightwad…he was trying to stiff me out of a buck.
My sales manager and I just shook our heads and agreed we were thrilled that we didn’t work for that guy.
If this sounds like your boss, you have my sympathy. And come see me. I’ll GIVE you something from my Avon stash. Just don’t try to stiff a Stiff!