Today I got an email that I mistook as a reply from some employer to whom I had recently sent my resume. The subject was “We want you as our Boston enthusiast!” Hmm. That’s curious, I don’t remember applying for that position.
It turned out the email was sent by a marketer who had stumbled upon this blog and wanted me to become the local “enthusiast” for Method, a line of cleaning products that are “non-toxic, have cool packaging and beautiful scents that come from natural things like fruit and herbs”. Said the email: “I’m contacting you because we want trendsetters, buzz-makers, and influential people… After having a look around Meredith Green dot com and reading your bio I believe you’re exactly what we’re looking for.“
Lady, you must be huffing those cleaning products. I’m a disemployed technical writer who hasn’t set a trend since I swore off vitamin E supplements a whole year before doctors advised the general public not to take them.
“If selected as an Enthusiast you would be part of a year-long relationship with method that would begin with a party for you and your girlfriends. We provide the food, drinks and entertainment and all you need to do is relax and have fun!”
Fun, you say? What kind of entertainment are we talking about—discovering the sorcery of microfiber cloths, bonding over home detox kits, or marveling at biodegradable surface spray? Will we be doing our own dishes with your naturally derived soap for extra giggles?
I have nothing against purported eco-friendly cleaning products or social marketing, but honestly, Method does not want me to be apart of the ‘fun.’ If I were to attend a social gathering and attempt to hawk or be otherwise enthusiastic about cleaning products, I would end up on the floor, sobbing into my hands over humanity’s ever-swirling vortex of decay, sadism, and futility, and crying out for the death of my very soul.
