Once upon a time, I worked. It was not for Mary Kay, Pampered Chef, or any other direct sales companies I dabbled in the last ten years. I worked for the United States of America. I was a communications-information systems officer. I wasn’t a damn good one, I was bordering on mediocre. When my husband sometimes bitches about some of his mediocre troops, I step in and say, “hey, you married a mediocre troop.” I was not the best of the best of the best of the best. If I had stayed in, I probably wouldn’t have been a major. This is not something I am overly proud of, but after the realization of my social communication deficits, and “my autism,” I have come to accept the reasons me and the United States Air Force didn’t part on the best of terms. That being said, I’m now at a point in my life, where I have 6 hours a day that I could work. I see my friends and other women I know, doing something. I know a TON of people who are making a good living selling artwork, or selling their pictures, or writing books, or advocating for their children in DC. I have started about 5 books, but my attention span is like a 7-year-old. I want to do something. I grow tired of on the surveys and forms filling in “Homemaker” or “Stay At Home Mom.”
In order to be successful at direct sales, you have to be pushy, and I’m just not pushy. I cannot be pushy. I don’t believe in going up to people and saying, “hi, I’m prostituting myself for <insert company here>, and I want to come to your house and show you how great the product is…” I want to melt into nothingness. I would rather quietly leave a brochure in a doctor’s office, and hope someone picks it up, and says– I could really use some more of <fill in the blank.>
I have tried to write. I have submitted article after article, but I don’t see breaking into the profession anytime soon. I just would love to make $200-300 a week. That’s all. Just a 10-20 hours a week, and be able to have some money I don’t have to account to anyone for… Too much to ask.