The above picture is of a tike who goes by the name of John Wyrick. Not the greatest specimen of a Wyrick, but seems pretty harmless. I mean, I'd bring him in for lemonade. Maybe a forty. I bet he's got some good jokes if nothing else.
Well, tonight I'm walking home after a late meeting and, as I'm walking up on my house, I see someone speaking to my neighbor and her, being polite, has the most fantastically fake interested look on her face. I'm thinking, "I just need to disappear into my house because this freak's selling something and I don't wanna be talked to. I wanna be fed." So, I dart to my door, unlock and enter to my lovely wife awaiting my arrival. About three minutes later, I hear a knock at the door.
My lovely wife realizes my frustration and asks what was bothering me. I know it's already late because this dude saw me walk into my house. He's selling something and I'm not in the mood.
But, lucky for him, my lovely wife was. Now, my lovely wife's no sucka, but she's nice. There's a defined and clear difference there. The dude starts talking about what he's raising money for--some trip to the Bahamas and begins telling us all about our neighbors and how "friendly and non-violent" they are. I thought that was a most peculiar comment. I continue eating watching his every move around my lovely wife like a coy predator. He hands us some paperwork that has his "name."
I kid you not: MARCUS WYRICK. At least that was the name he was claiming today. He even said, "It's actually German and is pronounced "VI'dick." He was correct. Sucky thing is that now we were never gonna get rid of him because he sensed a connection. Don't get it twisted, though, I'm still in predator mode, licking the sauce off my fingers.
My lovely wife, being trained in the field of attentiveness and assistance, she's listening to every word this kid offers up. Even his story about how he's going to work for NASA in developing a three-storied robot to stomp on and obliterate drug lords. I'm not kidding. He's also on his way to the Air Force. Uh, what else? Oh yeah, he's smoking enough meth in one evening to throw an entire neighborhood into withdraws just from his presence. I still stand there just counting his lies.
About ten minutes later, he enters the sales pitch.
Magazines. Really expensive magazines. This is kinda embarrassing, but my lovely wife reads Readers' Digest and she asks what it would cost for a renewal of her current subscription. I say embarrassing because Readers' Digest is for old people--not because my lovely wife was asking for a price quote. He doesn't tell us, but he mentions that it goes towards a tax write-off (lie) and that tax write-off will get us back $31 in taxes (lie)--a whopping 70% return on a $44 investment and you get a magazine subscription (lie, lie, lie). I decided to lie back to him. I said that renewals usually only cost half of the individual cost of a magazine which would be $1.50 an issue or $18 a year. Why would we give $44 cash to this kid for a magazine when we could charge $18 to a credit card through Readers' Digest instead? I said that this household is not the type to give $44 to a door-to-door vendor. I don't know what that means, but I guess it sounded like it was more a matter of principle rather than money.
My math seemed to throw his meth-rotted mind into a tailspin. He then quickly moves from charming Wyrick to prick ready to move to the next "peaceful and non-violent residence." I told him to make his way.
The lesson is not for my lovely wife because she knows better and, in fact, said she was just waiting for an "out," that I was pleased to provide. I read about these kids online a few minutes later and, let me tell you, if you read what I read about these organizations, you'd offer them dinner and a place to lay low for the evening. Sometimes, if they don't meet their sales quota, they get beaten by multiple members of the crew. They're subjected to hard drugs, long hours and short pay. Marcus Wyrick, I hope you're doing well out there. You need to wake up and get out of there. They ain't no good.
I'm thinking that these can't be profitable operations. How many do you think they sell on one block? There can't be enough money in it to cover the gas from one town to the next plus hotel and food (even if it's only $10 a head a day). I hate to say it, but they'd be better off really breaking the law. Instead of scamming people for magazine subscriptions and making only 10% on every dollar made, be a drug dealer. There's no scam and instead of making $4 on $44, you could make $50 on $100.
No, I'm not advising to become a drug dealer, but that's as much sense as working for these dudes makes. And I don't know what drug dealer makes, but I gotta think it's more than 10% or no one would be doing it. And those that do it wouldn't be driving Navigators. That's all I'm saying.
Remember, be nice to Wyrick, but don't buy a magazine from them.