I have a confession: I nearly ventured into the realm of direct sales. A while back, a friend reached out to me with an enticing proposal. I was captivated, convinced I could quickly recruit seven people, who would in turn recruit seven more, leading me to unimaginable wealth and a luxurious lifestyle—all from my own free car! Of course, reality isn’t quite that glamorous, but you catch my drift. Thankfully, my anxiety around phone calls kept me from fully diving in. (I struggle to even ask a neighbor for an egg, let alone reach out to long-lost friends to pitch a product.) During my brief stint in direct sales, I sold exactly zero items and have likely been placed on a “do not contact” list by the company.
What became of the friend who encouraged me to join her in this venture? I never heard from her again—not once. It was a classic case of a fake friendship.
Let me clarify: I wholeheartedly support mothers striving for personal growth and I am all for promoting small businesses, especially those run by moms. If you’re thriving in direct sales, that’s fantastic! However, there’s a particular aspect of this business model that irks me—the insincerity often disguised as friendship.
I’m sure many of you have received overly cheery messages from acquaintances trying to sell everything from hair removal creams to weight loss supplements. Just the other day, I found a message in my inbox from an old friend I hadn’t spoken to in years. Initially, I was thrilled to reconnect, but my excitement quickly faded when her message read something like, “Hey there! Your life looks amazing! But you know what would make it even better? My latest product!”
Wait a minute. We haven’t spoken in years, and now you’re pitching me something? My fake friendship alarm went off immediately. I didn’t even bother to read what she was selling; I felt deceived. She wasn’t interested in rekindling our friendship; she was just after my wallet.
In another instance, a friend contacted my husband on Facebook to see if he wanted to buy some premium skincare products for me. Seriously? First off, let’s keep my husband out of your sales tactics. Second, is there something about my appearance that I’m oblivious to? Have I somehow transformed into a frumpy old lady at 29? Please tell me that’s not the case.
And don’t even get me started on the number of Instagram requests I receive from people trying to sell me something. A woman I’d interacted with previously sent me a direct message showcasing her kids, followed by, “Want to earn a full-time income from home? Contact me!” It was a clear red flag for a fake friendship.
I’m confident that to generate a full-time income, I’d need to sell an astronomical amount of products in a short time, all while juggling fiery batons and sleeping on a bed of nails. But that’s beside the point. As a working mom, I found it frustrating when people assumed I was unhappy in my job or eager to leave it for a home-based endeavor. Not all working mothers are longing for a return to the kitchen!
Nothing annoys me more than insincere friendships. When someone I haven’t spoken to in ages suddenly reaches out to pitch me a product, it drives me up the wall. I’m aware of what they sell; their products are plastered all over my social media feeds. Feel free to promote your business, but don’t masquerade as my best friend while doing so. Sorry, but I’m just not interested.
If I genuinely want to buy something, I promise I’ll reach out to my real friends first. For more on the topic of home insemination, you can check out this helpful resource.
In summary, while I support entrepreneurship and the hard work that goes into direct sales, I draw the line at disingenuous friendships that surface only when there’s something to sell. If you’re interested in the world of home insemination, you can also find helpful information at CDC’s infertility FAQ and learn more about male fertility boosters at Make a Mom.