![]() ![]() When they’ve amassed in my kitchen, Caryn begins the demo by telling us about herself: Brooklyn-born, communications major, TV producer, police officer husband, Staten Island, babies, more babies. Then again, we love ironically nostalgic activities-Dirty Dancing karaoke, ‘90s fests, and restaurants devoted to meatballs-so I have no trouble rounding up about a dozen friends, plus, of course, my mom. Having people over to sell them stuff is kind of gauche, at least among twenty- and thirtysomethings in Brooklyn. We’d agreed on the menu ahead of time: It’s called “Healthy in a Hurry” though somehow it involves pasta, pizza, pound cake, and the microwave, which Caryn emailed about multiple times to confirm that it existed and to ask about its size. Speaking of my new friend, Caryn returns from the grocery store, laden with bags, and, within 20 minutes, my kitchen island has disappeared under a riot of Pampered Chef products, and she’s encouraging me to open a bottle of wine. I realized I’d never truly understand the Pampered Chef experience in 2017 unless I hosted a party myself, even if PC orchestrated it for me, delivering Caryn straight from heaven via the Verrazano bridge. They were so excited that I was reaching out!!! They would be thrilled to connect me with the appropriate consultants!!! Then I got an email from a Pampered Chef’s PR. I sent messages to a bunch of consultants and got basically the same response: They’d love to talk as long as the company said it was okay. ![]() If this was what Pampered Chef had become-a bunch of people alone in their homes buying kitchenware on the internet-I thought, that seemed kind of sad. There are hundreds of Pampered Chef consultants on Facebook hosting “virtual parties,” which seem to be just event pages that encourage people to shop online. ![]() First I reached out to some consultants because I am a reporter. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |