I met this really nice woman several months ago through professional avenues. She was kind and complimentary of my services. She mentioned during the course of our conversation that she sold all natural skincare products called Arbonne and provided me with a generous sample. A couple days later, she emailed me to see how I liked the products. Avid readers know that I keep my samples for traveling, so I hadn’t even tried them yet. I told her as much, and that I’d let her know when I got around to them on my next trip.
Then she started inviting me to see Arbonnettes receive white Mercedes as perks for strong sales performance. I politely declined. (Really, I just wanted to tell her that the Mercedes build quality has really deteriorated over recent years, but didn’t think she would find that information particularly relevant.)When I finally tried the RE9 Advanced samples, I begrudgingly admitted they were good. Keeping my word, I told her of my positive experience with the products. Of course this triggered an intense sales push. I planned to get just one, but the company made it so difficult and financially illogical to try a single product that I ended up backing out of the overly-complicated transaction. She wanted me to pay $20 under the guise that I can benefit from a year-long discount on all their products, plus they want me to pay shipping. Those fucking sales lures annoy me.
She would not quit with the invitations. She intermittently appeared around my work. Her very presence ignited a pilot light of guilt in my gut. Each week a new email asking me to an event or demo appeared in my inbox. The girl eventually wore me down with her fucking indefatigable persistence. After dodging at least eight different invites, I finally accepted one. I drug my friend Dez along (I owe you bitch), and low and behold if we weren’t the only two in attendance. Let’s say it together: PRESSURED.Our host spread products everywhere: in the living room, in the dining room, and in the kitchen where we began. She prepared energy shots and protein shakes, and peppered us with product points as we consumed the mysterious contents of the offered Dixie cups. Next, we were guided to the sofa. Now her captives, she commenced her spiel which was comprised of a lot of random, seemingly unrelated statistics about childhood obesity and the nation’s sugar intake. She promised us chocolate kisses if we asked questions. Most of the questions I asked she couldn’t answer. Questions like,
“What are the active ingredients in this product?”
“What do you mean by active ingredients?” She looks at me perplexed.
“Retinol, Acids, Peptides, Antioxidants?” I nudged.
“I can find out for you.” She classically covered before quickly gliding on through her presentation.
I wondered how she could possibly be so uneducated about the ingredients in the products she was so aggressively pushing, and furthermore how is it possible that no one had asked her this fundamental information before?Insisting it wasn’t a pyramid scheme, she spent much of the demo trying to sell us on selling Arbonne. The “direct marketing” approach smacked of structured hierarchy. If it isn’t a pyramid scheme then why are you trying to add me to your team? When Dez showed just an inkling of interest in selling the products, our host would not let her leave without promising to host a demo herself.
Despite all this, I still bought products. Why? Even though I know it’s all bullshit, the Arbonnette persisted until my polite resolve eventually crumbled away. In truth, I indirectly bribed her to leave me alone.
If nothing else, I will review Arbonne’s RE9 Advanced for your benefit. Steer clear of these bitches though, because they are Amway-style intense.