I went to my first candle party. It was pure hell. It made me feel cheap.
The seller of the candles, also known as the "consultant," was, of course, a young single mother trying to make a bit of extra cash. (And to be a consultant you have to buy your own catalogues, samples, etc. So the young mother likely had to put up a lot of cash to start this "business.")
The cheapest candle there was $32, but on average most of the merchandise ran for about $85 or more. Did I mention these were candles she was selling?
I'm a writer, so I don't make a lot of money. There is no way I'm dropping $32 on some candle I won't be able to use, because my cat will probably knock it over.
Of course, being the one person who doesn't buy anything, I won the door prize, which was probably paid for out of pocket by the young mother.
The idea behind these parties is that as a guest you are supposed to later volunteer your own home for a party for the consultant to come and sell candles to your own friends and families. Well, most of my friends and family are artists, writers, journalists or work in independent film. They don't have the money either for a $32 candle. So I certainly will not be hosting a party anytime soon.
In the end, I just ate the free food and left, feeling like a cheap and lowly impoverished human being.
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3 comments:
Bizarre,
I didn't know that there were Candle Parties in Afghanistan.
I thought it was too hot to even think about needing such luxuries as candles in the desert heat, but maybe I am wrong.
You are in Afghanistan, aren't you? Your profile says so.
-Nobody Important
I too dread the moment when the catalogs are handed out, after all the how tos and amazing facts are spieled off, and oohed and ahhed over in all the appropriate places. Why can't the evening just end with the free food? I'm all about free food, in fact, I would definetly attend a party that said, free food eaten by $32 dollar canlight.
Nobody Important,
I'm back from Afghanistan now.
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