Anatomy of a House Party

So I went to a Tupperware party tonight. Just saying that makes me feel even dumpier, lamer, and older than I already am. I realize that Tupperware has “changed” and is “cool” now, but I frankly can’t get past the idea that it’s a bunch of orange, BPA-leaching plastic that my mom used for making jello.

If you’re older than 25, you’ve no doubt been invited to a “house party.” And I don’t mean the kind where people just drink a lot, hook up with random strangers, and ruin the carpet with vomit. I mean the kind where women drink a lot, get together with random friends, and spend money on useless crap. These are basically pyramid schemes melded together with timeshare sales. There’s a product, a hard sell to buy said product, and an even harder sell to try to get you to host a party or sell the product yourself.

At this stage in the game, I finally feel a bit more immune to salespeople. Mainly because we were stupid enough to actually buy a timeshare a few years ago, and it was literally the dumbest financial decision we ever made. And we don’t consider ourselves to be particularly dumb. But these parties can be rough. Funny thing is, they’re always the same:

• The Hostess: This is usually your friend, unless you’ve been dragged there kicking and screaming by another friend. As such, you don’t want to be a complete asshole and not buy anything at all. And how does the company rep accomplish this feeling? By drilling it into your head over and over that your dear, dear friend will get great discounts and gifts if the party hits a certain number of sales. Which it won’t if you don’t buy anything (jerk).
How I get around this: my friends have plenty of money. They don’t need me to get them half off on a salad spinner. It also helps to have a really good excuse to leave the party right when ordering starts.

• The Cheerleader: Admittedly, this has been me. I fell in love with H2O at Home (eco-friendly cleaning products) and you basically couldn’t shut me up about them. People like me are who the reps LOVE because we basically do their jobs for them. As long as we don’t talk too much. Because there’s always one person at the party who interrupts with too many stories, too many times. It’s like being at a bad conference with the people who need to hear themselves talk.
How I get around this: um, clearly I didn’t.

• The Reluctant Attendants: These are your friends who come because they love you, but they basically act like junior high school kids, passing notes and making smart-ass remarks during the entire presentation. Hopefully they’ll be subtle about it.
How I get around this: I must admit that tonight, the rep reminded me of an old elementary school teacher — the one who won’t let you get away with anything — and I feel like my friend and I got busted at least a couple of times.

• The Suckers: Yes, these are the poor bastards who fall for the hard sell. The people who look into the eyes of the rep, hear the stories of the trips to Disneyland, and start imagining all the money they’ll make in those “few short hours” every week. And if you’re a stay-at-home mom at one of these parties. . . well, you might as well be a three-legged deer caught in a barbed wire fence in coyote territory. Because you are the BEST person to sell blah blah blah. The schedule’s flexible, the money’s great, you get time away from your family. . . are you in? ARE YOU IN???
How I get around this: did I mention the timeshare? And the leaving early? And, in this case, the fact that it was Tupperware?

At the end of the night, most of us will end up buying a descent amount of stuff that will most likely get shoved into a cabinet, never be used, and then ten years later, get tossed into a Good Will pile during a spring cleaning binge. Every once in a while, we end up with something useful, but usually we just have to chalk it up to a night away from the family with good food, free drinks, and a chance to see our grown-up friends.

And as the reps all know, sometimes that’s worth the price of admission.