They sell you a dream, telling you that you can have it all, now. Your child, your career, your jet-setting lifestyle, with perks. Everything you wanted in life is at your fingertips. All you have to do is pay a one-time membership fee, get your materials and start selling dreams. Forget about your dead-weight husband (pause); I'm sorry for your loss.
I bought into it, alone as I was with Sean. What else could I do? I couldn't find a desk job with a babe suckling at my breast. Maybe I could have, but it would have been awkward. Besides, I was about two semesters away from a degree that I didn't think I would finish in the next three or four years, unless I was time-barred and then - I didn't want to think about it.
It worked fine for a while. I made some money; not much, but enough to get by. Enough even, to put a little in the bank. But then one day, I wake up and I can't find the energy to meet one more prospect, close one more deal, smile. And I stared up at the ceiling with this one thought in mind - this isn't even my dream.
And that's the difficult part, you know? Selling something you've stopped believing in. I'm not even sure I ever believed in it, really. It was just something to get me by. But getting by isn't enough in the long term. To really run with something you needed that spark, that passion, that vibe.