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Family Daze
Public schools offer great lessons in product sales
By Debbie Farmer
It is obvious that the public school system missed the section in the U.S. Constitution that states each child is guaranteed a free education--since each year I end up supplementing my children's schooling by pushing bizarre, high-cost merchandise on helpless family members and neighbors.
Our first experience came when my preschool son had to sell four dozen raffle tickets to raise money for a new play structure. He practiced his pitch and marched down the block to unsuspecting neighborhood houses like a miniature Fuller Brush man. I watched proudly as he knocked on the first door, looked his customer directly in the eye and burst into tears. He repeated this method for the next five houses. Although his style was effective, it was distressing to the neighbors, so I wrote out a check for the remaining 27 tickets and stuffed them into my purse.
I thought my daughter's kindergarten fund-raiser would be easier until I realized she had to hand the customer a catalog filled with items I wouldn't wish on a Third World country. It took a long time to make a sale since most people who leafed through the catalog looked like they couldn't believe what they were seeing. My daughter finally made her first sale two days later.
"Congratulations! You did a great job not taking no for an answer!" I patted her on the back. "I knew grandma would come around."
At the end of the week, my daughter anxiously scanned the catalog to see what prize she qualified for. "I want this!" she said.
I squinted as she pointed to a small stuffed bear with "350 points" written in small, black letters along the bottom. I quickly totaled her sales and calculated that she had earned 5 points.
"What can I get for that?" she asked.
"Nothing."
She looked heartbroken, so I leafed through the catalog and purchased a rabbit canister set, two wooden duck bookends and a ceramic frog wearing a hat and overalls. This successfully boosted her sales to teddy-bear level--and wiped out my budget for a month.
I was lulled into a false sense of security when two months went by without my children being involved with fundraisers. Then I realized I should've been stocking up on favors and saving money for the Grand Sales Finale in the spring.
Every school-age child in the neighborhood was marching up and down the block, psyched to sell merchandise, like future Amway salesmen. They were pushing candy bars, T-shirts, magazines, candles and cookies.
My children didn't want to risk missing a sales opportunity, so we stocked items in the car and brought them everywhere we went.
"Whaddaya got today?" I asked, approaching a group of tired-looking mothers at the park.
"A dozen tins of Almond Rocha and enough wrapping paper to cover Tahiti. And you?"
"Two cases of Girl Scout cookies, a pound of hickory beef logs and a sponsor sheet for a walk-a-thon," I said. "If you sign up for 10 miles, I'll throw in a box of Thin Mints."
As the school year progressed, my home decor evolved from Early American Colonial to a combination of Modern Preschool Raffle and Elementary School Fundraiser. I was beginning to think we couldn't afford public education and I considered enrolling my children in a nice, cheap private school.
But, by the end of the year, I noticed my children had gotten good at pushing bizarre, overpriced merchandise. And, even though no one within six blocks would open their front door when they saw us coming, I realized fundraising might not be such a bad idea after all: it raises money for good causes, boosts my children's confidence and provides future career training. Besides, I'll never have to shop for a birthday, house-warming or Christmas present again.
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Saratoga, California Since 1955
