Manipulation

One day the doorbell rang and my little kids scrambled to answer it. "Mom! It's for you!" they cried as they pushed and shoved each other for the best view of the visitor. I thrust my leg across the threshold to keep my puppy-like preschoolers from escaping. On my porch was a very handsome young black man, selling a cleaning product.

"Really? Another salesperson?" I inwardly groaned. I had a NO SOLICITORS sign up once but it had disappeared. I had my rejection speech down as pat as any salesperson's pitch: "Nothankyounotinterestedgoodbye" as I shut the door. I'd done it dozens of times.

But this guy threw me off my game. He completely charmed me, mesmerized me, and put me under his spell. I don't even know how it happened. He complimented me and I fell for his lines. He spun his sales pitch like it was written for me, with clever rhymes and polished cadence. Before I knew it I had bought his magical cleaning supplies. I hated myself while I wrote the check--for $100!--but I couldn't stop it. I knew there was nothing special about those chemicals but yet I was compelled to buy three bottles.

He left and I shut the door. I looked at the name of the product on the bottles, Avantage . . . and realized I'd bought cleaner from a company that couldn't even spell a real word. A one hundred dollar mistake? What a fool I was! I hid the bottles and tried to hide my shame along with them. I made a new NO SOLICITORS sign and slapped it on my door. Don't come around and sell your snake oil to me again! I'm on to you!

Sometimes I've been charmed; sometimes I've been intimidated. After I'd graduated from college I needed a job; one morning I searched through the newspaper's classifieds. I called on one that was vague but intriguing. I spoke with a young professional man who used terms like "self-starter" "immediate growth" and all the other buzz-words that surround multi-level marketing. There was also travel involved, and we only had one car. I was turned off by his attitude and knew this wasn't the job for me. He was persistent, strong-arming me to bring my husband to an informational meeting. Trying to be diplomatic I said, "I will have to ask my husband about it." The interviewer snidely asked, "You have to ask your husband for permission to get a job?" That did it! I hate confrontation and I sure wasn't going to cave in to a bully. I hung up without another word.

And I thought I'd wised up. I certainly haven't bought anything like that again I haven't taken a job I didn't want. Perhaps because I've become more savvy in that department, I thought I was doing well, perhaps immune to manipulation. Well, if I had no children I might still pat myself on the back. Kids are the ultimate salespeople, the ultimate charmers. I can't tell you the number of times I've bought into a plan, idea, or excuse that when I explain it to Bryce, it dawns on me: I've been played like a fiddle.

Sometimes it's done in a positive way: offering to help me, distracting me with a story from school. Other times it's done negatively: guilting me into helping/doing/enabling, or going for my personal jugular (like the one night a child told me that God didn't want me to have kids because I would have been--and am--a terrible, uncaring, lazy mother). And other times I don't even realize it's going on at all. There have been two times when professionals have proffered that *I* wasn't really running the show at our house. At first I scoffed, because, hello, I'm the mother, I'm the boss. But when you weigh the facts and evidence there's a lot to support the claim that there are certain things I'm not in control of at all. Somewhere along the line, slowly, I have bought hundreds of proverbial $100 cleaners--for the sole reason that I am charmed by the seller. And sometimes, wanting to avoid a fight.

The thing is, I love my kids so much that I want to help. Do things. Etc. 

Now that I know what's going on and want to change it . . . oh boy, it's not going to be an easy road. I read a really good article that make me feel like the author has been spying on our household. But it is what it is . . . all we can do is move forward and try our best.