Thursday, July 31, 2008

The Queen of Filters

I'm a little late posting today... but I did manage to get Goober enrolled in Pre-K so we're all good. :) Priorities, my friends.

Today is Thursday and I'm happy to join in on the Sincerely 'Fro Me To You Carnival hosted over at We Are That Family.

Today's story is about the first time I decided I would make it on my own. I had recently withdrawn myself from classes at the University of Florida because I had pretty much screwed up and wanted to save my GPA. I didn't, however, want to tell my poor father who had paid a lot of money for me to go to college that I had withdrawn. I tried to hide it for a while, but alas, I was discovered and dad pretty much told me to get a job and take care of myself or come home and go to the community college.

Being that I was a stubborn brat and wanted to prove I could make it on my own, I decided to get a job. I scanned the newspaper for job openings until I found the right ad. It read something like this:


Which I interpreted as $1500 a month all for me!? I'll be RICH and be able to pay my $400 rent and bills and have plenty of money for BEER!

So I called the number and went for my interview. The interview was sort of odd. It wasn't just me and an interviewer, it was an interviewer and about 15 other hungry ex-students who also thought $1500 a month would be sweet cash.

The interviewer talked a lot about how much money we could make and how we would even be able to make MORE than $1500 and how we were going to be helping people. I swear butterflies and rainbows began shooting out of his mouth and all 15 of us ate it up.

After the interview I received the call back that I had gotten the job. Rock on! I'm rich!

I was to report to work the following Monday at 8 AM.

I arrived promptly, still really having NO CLUE what it was I was going to be doing at my new job. Heck, I didn't really care, I was going to be RICH and HELP PEOPLE!

After a few days of "training" I learned that this product, this amazing product, could do everything. It could filter the air better than any air filtration product on the market, better than the legendary HEPA we had all heard about. It could take smells out of the air and put yummy smells back in, it could clean the floor, it could clean the drapes, it could clean the chairs. It could suck dust mites right out of my pillow! Holy jack! I totally needed this thing!

The 8 or so of us in the training class kept saying to our trainer, "It's a vacuum cleaner, right?"

"No! Vacuum Cleaners are DIRTY, NASTY, GERM INFESTED things. This is a Filter Queen home purifying system!"

And we all commenced with our brainwashing. By the end of the week I could have sold my Filter Queen to a homeless man on the side of the road (if he could qualify for financing) because I was so darned excited about the thing it was incredible.

It was just before Christmas and our boss told us it was to be our "Friends and Family Weekend." We were to take the Filter Queen home and practice on our friends and family. We were to show them our demonstration, the one we had spent the whole week learning, and just practice so when we went out into the field we'd be pros.

Filter Queen for Christmas

My poor father, who has supported me in everything I've ever done even when he disagrees with me, shelled out about $1500 for the Filter Queen. Both of my sisters became absolutely horrified at the prospect of dust mites in their houses that one of them borrowed the thing for a couple of hours to clean every surface in her house she could manage and the other one called up a week later to buy one. She had been having dreams of dust mites smothering her in her sleep.

Back in Gainesville I actually proved to be quite a good Filter Queen salesperson. I was selling those suckers like hot cakes, earning little gold pins proclaiming me sales person of the month and getting mentioned at our quarterly conventions. Those Filter Queen people sure knew how to throw a party, too. We went to New Orleans and Panama City and there was much drinking and partying to be had. Never mind that I wasn't actually legal to drink in New Orleans... I guess they don't care much about age on Bourbon Street.

Anyhow... at some point I just stopped being so enthusiastic about it. I actually started referring to it as a (the horror!) vacuum cleaner. It was about then that I just couldn't sell them anymore. I'd go to people's houses and I'd show them my demonstration... but my heart just wasn't in it. And so is the way with sales, when you stop selling, you stop making money.

It wasn't too long before I called my dad and asked if I could come home. He was more than happy to have me back.

Now, over 10 years later that Filter Queen that my dad paid so much cash for sits in my house and is used regularly. My mom never really liked it. :) Thanks Dad!


P.S. He loves you... said...[Reply to comment]

LOL! I've been there! Not with that vaccume that looks like it's gonna hang you..not I did this with Salad Master Cookware!

Funny post great post...keep'em coming!

Karen said...[Reply to comment]

Good story!
What a dad you have!

We are THAT Family said...[Reply to comment]

Wow! That was a great post.

Thanks so much for sharing!

Tammy said...[Reply to comment]

That is dad would have thought I had lost my mind!

Muthering Heights said...[Reply to comment]

LOL, that's such a funny story!

Leanne said...[Reply to comment]

My first "all grown up" job was attempting to SELL advertising space in a local paper to local businesses who got FREE advertising in another free pages. Although it only took me a day and a half to figure out what was wrong.

Clever huh.

Michelle@Life with Three said...[Reply to comment]

This one really made me laugh -- it's not a vaccuum -- it's a Filter Queen! LOL! :) I enjoyed it. And your dad's love for you, well, that just about brought tears to my eyes.

DYSFUNCTIONAL MOM said...[Reply to comment]

I live in Gainesville. =)
But I don't think you ever hit me up for a Filter Queen....

Jason said...[Reply to comment]

I would last about two seconds with this kind of job. :)