Mrs Goody Two Shoes V

Battling the brochures

I salute the salesmanship of my colleagues. And I envy their ability to make some extra money, that too, at my cost

I had had to cook a thousand dishes for the guests who were coming in the evening, skip breakfast in the process, wear crumpled clothes and, after this morning saga of bedlam, barely managed to reach office on time. There were a million, zillion things on my mind, not least of them being how to keep the Boss happy (for yet another day, trust me, it is quite a daily challenge). I was just catching my breath and leafing through my daily planner to see where all in the city my job I needed me to be during the day. So, it wasn't the best of times to be accosted by the mini businessmen (and women) who seem to be omnipresent in office premises across sectors, and who somehow manage to find time out of their regular office schedule to make that extra dough.
Rupali, a senior in the reporting section, swooped in on me. "Look at these gorgeous little sparklers hon'." I cringed. It was nine in the morning. I was starving. In another 20 minutes I had to drive miles for an interview. It took a good ten-second pause before I could turn around and fathom what she was talking about. "Great range of colours, and 10% discount for my special customers."
If you still haven't inferred what the fuss was all about, it was a lipstick range from one of those companies -- Avon, Oriflame, Amway -- which prefer to build an army of representatives to beleaguer innocents like me instead making their products sit pretty on some supermarket shelf. And the business acumen of the soldiers, of whom Rupali is one, would be exemplary for any small-scale industry model.
"Uh, Rupali, I am somewhat hard pressed for time now, so if we could talk about this later?"
"Oh come on! Just take one look. These babies are so gorgeous (she needs more adjectives) they'll make you drool." It is just appalling how everyone wants instant gratification, kind of like it is merely an extension of instant coffee. She thrust the booklet at my face, and left with a "Just mark which ones you want, I'll get them tomorrow." How presumptuous! I hadn't even committed to anything.
Truth be told, I did not need to commit. They just know their war is won the moment they have slyly slipped the brochures into my hands. I am not avaricious, no. But, either to please the battalion of seniors or to act like the benefactor of the whining bundle of juniors, I have bought everything from Tupperware glasses, bowls, bottles to orange lipsticks and green nail shades. So, I am a 'special customer' all right, beguiled every time, and, at the end of the day, staring in horror at the pile of junk that just keeps getting bigger.