Much sooner than I imagined, my son is working his way through
school. I had imagined he would start thinking about getting a job
in sales or retail to help supplement his lifestyle throughout
college
Much sooner than I imagined, my son is working his way through school. I had imagined he would start thinking about getting a job in sales or retail to help supplement his lifestyle throughout college, but I never dreamed he would begin his career as a door to door salesman at age 6, courtesy of smooth-talking, award-dangling, representatives of school sales fund-raisers.
Yes, my son wants that jukebox and he only needs to sell six thousand buckets of cookie dough. Let me say this, without hesitation or regret: I detest school fund-raisers! When that envelope comes home with catalogs of holiday wrapping paper and frozen food, my heart sinks. I resent this project and the unobtainable gifts that are presented as awards for top sales. The entire school will gather amidst tables piled with glamorous gift prizes and the speaker will present an animated and believable pep talk which instills false hope of being the lucky recipient of an “actual size” blinking traffic light to hang in the corner of his room.
My son comes home year after year ready to sell, sell, sell. I have to gently undo the hype and explain why we shouldn’t expect the top prize.
It goes a little something like this: “Dad and I don’t work in big office buildings where we can sell things to other people. We have our own small business and we only have one employee who I will not put on the spot to buy something. I am his boss and he may feel pressured to do something he really doesn’t want to do. We don’t live in “town” and we have no block to walk around. We only have three neighbors. One of them is diabetic and cannot buy cookie dough. So please don’t feel bad if you do not reach your goal.”
I don’t have time to pound the pavement in a neighborhood that has likely already been hit and hope for buyers. I barely have enough time to manage three kids and my own schedule. Sure we have a few friends that we present the catalogs to and it’s an unspoken and even exchange. I buy from their kids and they buy from mine.
At this point some people may think, “What about the lesson he will learn?” to which I respond, “What lesson?” Does an elementary school student need to learn about rejection, false hope and sore feet? I don’t think so.
I will decide what moral and valuable lessons my kids need and when they need it, thank you.
I do understand the need for the funds and I don’t mind doing my part, so I have come up with a solution. What if the school sends home a notice asking for a personal donation from each family ranging from $5 to $50 or more. If you don’t have money to donate, maybe you can be a school volunteer. I know I would much rather cut a check as a donation than purchase a $20 holiday knick-knack that is half the size of the photo ad in the catalog. Can we please spare our children and ourselves the agony of correctly filled out order forms and just ask for the money point blank? I find it hard to believe our contribution of three sold items (and 50 rejections) is worth the effort it takes and I’d love to see my son cut himself free of his after school job.
