I was a one-hit-wonder.
That’s what some said. I loved the profession that is Network Marketing. I was freaking good at what I did, too—all heart. The truth was, though, I was NOT a washed-up has been. I was a hurt, traumatized, broken-hearted human being.
My passion and love for the profession and all it had done for me was still a conviction that burned true. I had a couple of entirely false starts, but a wounded warrior is what I had become.
In the words of Ted Lasso, I had developed a case of the YIPS. I loved the game, but I had lost my mojo. So some pony up and ride onto the set of another show, and hats off to them.
I couldn’t seem to do that.
Options. Freedom. Security. Independence. These values were still very much a part of who I was. But, my ego was bruised, my pride was pierced, and my family needed income. So desperate, I applied to so many jobs.
Finally, I got one lead for a sales job in educational publishing from such a dear friend. After three distant interviews, I was asked to travel to Texas for an in-person interview. I knew I was qualified; actually, I was overqualified, but I would give my best to that company if they would give me a shot.
For the interview, I sat before a panel. IN SO MANY WORDS, the VP of the sales district mocked me, belittled my past sales experience, and asked me if I had seen any action as a combat veteran? She also compared my prior network marketing multi-million dollar business to her niece’s struggling Tupperware business. Finally, she told me that hiring me was a risk for the company. I still have no idea what that even means. I walked out of that interview wholly defeated.
I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. As I rode in the passenger's seat, warm tears streamed down my cheeks, and my mind raced. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was some cruel joke. How could I put all that time into building my previous business, and now it seemed like it never happened? It all seemed like it had been a dream.
I was smart. I worked hard. I had a proven track record but now what? Lying in my pity was not an option, so I decided to dig my heels in and fight.
If I couldn’t find a lane well, I would make my own.
The way I figured it was if a previous homeless girl from nowhere’s Ville Kentucky could scale a multi-million dollar sales business, surely she could muster together her skills to teach others in exchange for some compensation. After all, I had lost my business, not my experiences, and not my essence.
I scraped together the last little bit of money I had and hired a coach.
To be continued…