Greetings.
I received your friend request on Wednesday, and while I vaguely remembered you from high school, I accepted it. Almost immediately, I was notified that I had been added to your “Super Special Essentially Sensual Scented Thirty-One Thrive Jamberry Jamboree!” Facebook group. How delightful.
Yes, me, along with 400 of your other “close” friends.
Let’s be honest — NO. You seemed nice, or at least you did for about nineteen seconds, so I’ll be straightforward: I am not interested in purchasing any of the items you’re promoting. Whether it’s jewelry, nail products, skincare, candles, or the entire “lifestyle” you’re marketing. Before you get upset, let me clarify: I’ve been there. I’ve spent my money. I used to be accommodating, saying “yes” to all the purchases. But guess what? It never ends. I’m done. I don’t even buy from people I genuinely know and care about anymore, so please spare me the sales pitch.
I understand your desire for independence and the opportunity to earn money from home. It’s wonderful that you’ve found what you call a “sisterhood.” It sounds like you’ve found a fantastic community, but please keep my wallet out of it.
I will lose my mind if I am added to another Facebook group. What is the deal with all these groups? Am I a friend or merely a potential customer? No means no. I don’t want to attend yet another neighborhood gathering to make small talk with someone I probably annoyed in the carpool line earlier. All while you pressure me into buying a purse I will never use, simply because I indulged in your spicy Buffalo chicken dip. Again. Telling me there will be “plenty of drinks” isn’t an incentive. I can drink at home, trust me, and I certainly won’t be putting on pants for it. I assume you expect me to wear a bra, too? Not happening.
You know who never asks me to dress up? Amazon Prime.
No, I don’t want to “just try” your free samples. I have zero interest in a fajita pan, let alone any turquoise decor. People don’t wear that much turquoise unless they are planning to retire in Santa Fe. I’m not keen on trying on clothes in your hall closet as a makeshift dressing room. A large gathering of chatty women alongside 30 different scented candles makes me feel nauseous. You lost 30 pounds on Shakeology? That’s impressive. Good for you. But we both know those shakes taste like vegan despair. Rubbing oils on my neck won’t magically resolve my thyroid issues. Oh, are you a doctor now? Is the trunk of your Ford Escape your office? Sounds credible.
And let’s address the 3-D lashes — no thanks. Your look resembles a tarantula exhibit. There, I said it. Somebody had to. “It Works!” Really? If one body wrap seems to work for you, fantastic. But you know what else works? Spanx. Just ordered some online. While pantsless. Boom.
I’m not interested in your skincare products. I won’t give them a 30-day trial. I could smear Elmer’s glue on my face for thirty days, take a picture, and see a significant difference. I have Photoshop too. I’ll stick with my Olay from the grocery store, thank you. Now I have to shop like a ninja, avoiding your lurking presence in the feminine care aisle, ready to pounce with your “amazing opportunity” to host yet another gathering. Please, for the love of all that is good, just stop talking about your MLM.
What truly frustrates me (there’s an oil for that!) isn’t the gatherings or the products themselves — some may be quite good. The products are secondary. It’s the exploitation of friendships to recruit new participants that genuinely disturbs me. You are selling your friendships, plain and simple. The whole scenario feels like a coconut-scented pyramid scheme, no matter how appealing the presentation might be. This is merely my perspective; I could be mistaken. In fact, please tell me I’m wrong! I’d love to hear about your success stories and how you’re rolling in the dough. Just curious — how much money has gone out? Tell me about your happiness, how you’ve become a super successful “MOMTREPRENEUR,” and I’ll try to control my eye twitch every time I hear that term.
Feel free to reach out when you return from your all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii.
In conclusion, if you send me one more Jamberry party invitation, I assure you I will metaphorically kick you with my foot.
So, that’s it — good conversation. Farewell.
For more insights on personal journeys, consider exploring this article on artificial insemination for couples.
Summary
This article discusses the frustrations of being added to unsolicited promotional groups on social media, emphasizing the discomfort of feeling like friendships are being exploited for sales. The writer expresses a desire for authentic interactions without the pressure of multi-level marketing schemes.
Keyphrase
MLM friendship exploitation
Tags
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