The good, the bad and the itchy

Some money schemes are quite transparent: a prince in Saudi Arabia wants to send $253 million to your bank account, a mother of three earns thousands of dollars working from home and wants your email address so you can do the same, a Russian executive wants to use your bank account for financial transactions of which you get a cut. In short, there are more money schemes out there than there are tissues in a box of Kleenex.

But what about other schemes? Schemes that are not so easy to spot. Take Avon for instance. Lots of women (and men) like to earn a little on the side and selling Avon seems just the thing. After all, everybody washes their hair, takes baths and showers, while the majority of women wear moisturizer and makeup, and need something to take the makeup off with. In addition to these personal care items, Avon sells jewelry, household products, kiddies stuff, etc.

They make it seem so easy ... as an Avon representative you buy the brochures, distribute the brochures and watch the orders come rolling in. But it’s not that easy. For one, Avon has a bad reputation. The quality of their products doesn’t stack up to store items and quite frequently mistakes are made.

Someone orders a foot cream enriched with mint and Avon sends a foot cream enriched with lemon. Someone order a cherry red lipstick and receives a tomato red lipstick. Avon does not ask permission to substitute one order for another, they just do it. If the client refuses the substitution it’s up to the representative to return the item, at her own cost.

Or, someone order a necklace or a ring and the consultant gets the message that that particular piece of jewelry is no longer available. Then, two campaigns later that particular piece of jewelry shows up again, at higher price.

Consultants get to chance to buy sales aids, goodies to make selling Avon products easier. Easier? Maybe, but those aids come at a price. Brochures, samples, product kits ... it all needs to be paid, and they aren’t cheap.

If the consultant sells more than $300 per campaign, she might make a little profit, but if her sales dwindle, selling Avon will end up costing her money. After collecting from her clients, she might wonder why she is $30 short. Look at your sales aids consultant, those goodies don’t come free.

In the brochures it all looks so glamorous. Creams that promise to take years off a woman’s age. Not true ... women complain that the creams nearly took a layer of skin off their face because of itchiness.

Shampoos, conditioners and coloring products promise lustrous locks. Not true ... women complain that after using Avon products they found a suspicious amount of hair in the drain collector.

Long lasting nail polishes on beautifully manicured nails ... not true, Avon nail polish chips within 48 hours.

Yet that’s not all that bothers Avon customers. They wonder ... why hasn’t Avon come up with organic products? A lot of the better brands switch to organic ingredients, minerals and above all, make their products paraben free. Not Avon, they apparently don’t care that their creams and makeup products are loaded with parabens, which can cause certain types of cancer.

The only person who earns, not a little but a lot, is the Avon recruiter. Every district has one and she gets a cut of whatever sales the representatives in her district make. If she gets 10% of every sale and she has 100 reps that sell between $100 and $500, that adds up.

Want to earn a little on the side? Thinking of selling Avon? Think before you sign up, you could be signing your money away.

The price of gas

Moaning and groaning about the high gas prices seems to have become a national sport. I wish I could join you in those complaints, but the sad truth is … I don’t have a car.



While you’re searching for your car keys, I’m looking for my train/bus pass. While you’re heading for the garage, I’m walking to the station.


When the sun is out and the sky is blue, such a walk is a pleasure. I see of bit of nature, I hear the birds singing, and those I pass along the way smile or give a cheerful hello.


That cheerfulness will soon change. With the coming of summer, some people will curse yet another sunny day, when the sun is scorching everything below and it will be too hot to breathe. Tempers will flare, bodies will perspire, causing an unpleasant odor in trains and busses. When we see cars pass us by, we are envious of those keeping in cool in air-conditioned pockets.


After the heat of summer the rain of the fall will come. Commuters everywhere will dash across the street, getting wet from head to toe despite their best efforts. Don’t expect a friendly word from them then, they’re too busy squeezing the water from their hair and tipping it out of their shoes. Once again we look at the cars that go by and envy those who are so nice and dry.


And then winter comes, when all commuters – despite being wrapped up in layers of clothing - are freezing. Our bodies may be fine, but our ears, noses, hands and feet are suffering. We shiver while walking, we hug our bodies while waiting for the train, we turn into near popsicles while waiting for the bus. We see cars go by where the driver and passengers wear barely more than a sweater and seem so comfortable.


I feel so sorry for you sitting comfortable in your nice car, while I’m squeezed between two fatties and have to listen to some woman telling her friend all about her baby’s disgusting food habits and some guy pulling up his nose over and over again.


I feel sorry that you have to pay so much for gas for your car. The car you never have to wait for. The car that keeps you cool in summer and warm in winter. The car where you can enjoy solitude and privacy.


Yeah I feel so sorry for you.

Instead of bitching and whining about the gas price, think how lucky you are to have a car. If you don’t like paying the gas price, here’s a thought … TAKE THE BUS!!!

About productivity

I have to stop reading articles online because they make my blood boil. Just this morning I read about some idiot who would like to propose that organizations only hire non-smokers because – as he states – they weigh on the healthcare system and they are not as productive as non-smokers.


Let’s address one item at a time.

I am a proud smoker and the healthcare system is yet to spend its first dollar on me. I have NO health complains that are smoke related. I have a wide circle of friends, acquaintances and colleagues and none of them have smoke related health smoke issues either.

I’m sure that here and there, there are people with lung complaints but they are the exception rather than the norm. And are their lung complaints smoking related? After all, we live in an age of cars and airplanes and smoke spewing factories.

As for smokers being not as productive as non-smokers … that is a total lie. Sure smokers take a break from time to time, but that only benefits their concentration. When they come back to their desk, they feel refreshed. Some non-smokers on the other hand sit at their desk for hours on end without a break. That can’t be good for their concentration.

Of course, it’s not because non-smokers don’t go out for a puff that they don’t take breaks. As a temp I’ve worked in several offices and it never ceases to amaze me how some non-smokers waste time gossiping over the phone or with colleagues. They complain about smokers taking five minute breaks, while they are away from their desk for half an hour.

And, if organizations should only hire non-smokers for the sake of productivity, where does that leave drinkers and junk food eaters?

Let’s look at the drinkers.

After a night out they can get arrested for drunk driving and spend the night in jail. If they manage to get away with drunk driving they can cause an accident.

If they cause an accident they might only have material damage, or they can hurt someone so badly they end up in hospital (healthcare start forking out those dollars) or worse dead.

How about the junk food eaters?

All that fatty food can lead to high cholesterol, which in turn leads to stroke and/or heart attack. Healthcare here we come again.

If you want to talk productivity, what’s next, that no women under the age of 45 can be hired?

Think about it.

If you hire a young woman, chances are she will at some point want a baby. That is one year of maternity leave in Canada. And will she stop with one child? She might come back from maternity leave only to announce that she’s pregnant again.

When the child is born you can forget about her being productive because now whenever the child is sick, she’s going to take days off or if someone else takes care of the child, she’s going to be unproductive because she’s worrying about the kid. Whether the child has the sniffles or measles, she will be unproductive.

Not only that, she can bring the child’s disease into the office infecting several employees.

As the child gets older and start going to school, she’s going to be unproductive because she has to drop off the child in the morning and pick him up in the afternoon. That means you as an employer can forget about her coming in early and staying late.

Come to think of it, if I were an employer, I wouldn’t employ drinkers, junk food eaters and young women. Give me a 50 year old smoker any day and I’ll hire her on the spot. As a mature woman I know she’ll show up on time, every time. As a smoker I’ll know that she’ll take regular breaks, keeping her mind sharp.

The idea of organizations hiring only non-smokers is just ludicrous. Whose bright idea was that? Have they forgotten how much the government financially benefits from the smokers? If all smokers were to indeed quit, the government would be short of billions of tax dollars.

If you’re wondering who started all this non-smoking shit … think which organization benefited the most for these lies. Which organization was virtually unknown not so long ago and is now worth billions of dollars? If you know the answer to that, all the pieces of the puzzle will fall into place.

Toronto Cat Rescue Bowl-a-ton

Eight years ago, the Toronto Cat Rescue (TCR) hosted its first Bowl-a-ton to raise money for the city’s abandoned cats.  A few people showed up, all of them having done their very best to get some donations here and there.

Over the years the event became more popular and grew in size.   Cat lovers from all over the city put their best “paw” forward to raise money and did so very successfully.  Thousands of dollars came pouring in, providing much needed food and money for vet bills.

The Toronto Cat Rescue is an organization with a difference.  Rather than being a shelter for cats, TCR comprises of a number of private homes.  No cat is turned down, no cat is put down.  They receive love and attention while prospective adoption homes are carefully examined.

On Saturday, May 26^th it will be that time again.  After weeks of active fundraising, cat lovers will troop to Playtime bowling alley to hand over what they collected, bowl and exchange stories.  No need to wonder what they will be talking about … cats, cats and more cats.

I never grow tired of telling folks about how I adopted Chanel.  I was scared of going to a cat shelter, seeing so many cats who needed a home and only be able to help one.  How would I choose?

As it turned out my choice was easy … I went for the scruffiest kitten in the place.  The one who had the least change of being adopted.  Today, twelve years later, Chanel has grown into a beautiful cat, with a unique personality.  

 

I can only hope that more people will adopt shelter cats and give the pet a loving home.  In the meantime, I hope that our upcoming Bowl-a-ton will be as successful as it was last year. 

If you can spare a few dollars, please contact me at conny.manero@gmail.com.  Donations over $20 receive a tax receipt upon request. 

I will donate … will you?

In the meantime, if you’re thinking of adopting but are not quite sure, the following might help you in your decision:

A cat's cry for help.

Please don't turn your back on me

Look into my eyes

How can you walk away?

And not listen to my cries

This shelter is noisy and crowded

So far away from home

Doesn't anybody want me?

I'm scared and all alone

Locked in a cage, I'm waiting

Will someone come in time?

Please, please help me!

Or a needle might end this life of mine

So many kittens, so many cats

All waiting for someone to say

"Come here cute pussycat."

I want to take you away

But will that pussycat be loved?

Or suffer a fate worse than death

Will it beg for mercy?

With his last dying breath

It doesn't have to be that way

It's all up to you

There can be an end to this suffering

Depending on what you do

Be responsible, and care

Spay or neuter your pet

Sooner rather than later

Make an appointment with the vet!

"Meeting" a ghost

It was late, it was raining and I had at least a thirty-five minute drive ahead of me to get home. When my friend Diane offered that I could spend the night in her house, I eagerly accepted.

Diane lived with her mother in a spacious country house. The obviously old furniture in the guestroom was not quite what I had expected in the otherwise modern home.

"It's my grandmother's furniture," Diane explained. "When grandma passed away, my mom decided to keep her stuff for the spare room. The mattress is new though and the sheets are fresh, so you should be quite comfortable."

A few minutes after I had turned out the light I heard the door opening and softly closing. I was about to ask Diane if she had forgotten something when I heard her moving through the room, every so carefully as to not to disturb me.

I heard her by the vanity table, opening and closing drawers.
Not wanting to make Diane feel bad for waking me up, I pretended to be asleep.
But I smiled as I heard her rummaging, apparently she could not find what she was looking for.

Suddenly I felt her sitting down on the bed. I stiffened as my body tilted towards the extra weight. Enough was enough. Diane and I were good friends, but we were not THAT close. So I reached up and switched on the light. There was nobody there.

Had I dreamed this? Had I fallen asleep while Diane was in my room and had she left unnoticed?

"Did you find what you were looking for last night?" I asked her over breakfast the next morning.

"Hu?" Diane said, not understanding.

"Last night," I explained, "you were in my room, going through the drawers of the vanity table. I heard you but I did not want to say anything. I didn't want you to think you woke me up."

"Girl I was not in your room," she said with a shake of her head. "I fell asleep the moment my head touched the pillow."

When I told her what had happened, Diane and her mother exchanged meaningful glances. According to their story, last night was not the first time that room had a phantom 'visitor'.

"And you put ME in THAT room!" I cried.

"What other room was I going to put you in?" Diane asked. "I'm fairly certain you wouldn't want to sleep with me. I snore."

"What about the blue room?" I said. "You could have put me in there."

"Oh oh no," she shook her head, "you definitely do not want to sleep in the blue room. That room is really creepy. There is a supernatural presence there and the room is always ice cold, winter and summer."

After breakfast we went to the blue room together and I did not even have to go inside to feel that there was something tantalizing in there.

As Diane told me, she and her friends had performed a spell in that room when they were kids, and after that the house was never the same again.

Needless to say that I never spent the night at Diane's again.

Snow ... Snow! ... Snow?

For those who haven’t quite decided what to do for a living, or those thinking about a career change, consider becoming a meteorologist.  Anyone qualifies and no experience necessary.

Take for instance yesterday’s weather forecast for Toronto.  The meteorologist predicted that the city was going to get snow.  Not just a few flurries, but the mother of snow storms.  It would snow between midnight and Friday 4:00 p.m. and as much as 6 inches (15 cm) was expected.

Before I continue, I should say that Toronto hasn’t had much of a winter so far.  It hasn’t been really cold and we’ve seen little or no snow.  So now, before it was all over with March around the corner, it was finally going to happen.

Kids rejoiced that they wouldn’t have to go to school.  Workers mentally rubbed their hands at the prospect of a day off.

Me, I was looking forward to a nice thick blanket of snow.  If I wanted a cold winter without snow, I could have stayed in South Africa.

When I woke up this morning I lay for a moment and wondered how much snow had actually fallen.  Would we be able to go to work?  Were the trains running?  If I went to work, would I find the office open or would there be a notice on the door “Closed on account of weather”?

Full of expectation I tiptoed to the window and opened the curtains, expecting to see the fields and trees weighed down with snow.  The cars in the parking lot waiting for the scraper to arrive so they could take their owners to work.   

What I saw was … a grey parking lot, slick with rain.  Where was the snow?  What had happened to the mother of all snow storms?  Where were the 6 inches?  We didn’t get 6 inches, we didn’t get 2 inches, we got nothing!  Nothing at all!!!

Later we heard that the snowstorm had passed us by.  Toronto was supposed to get a storm, but the strong wind had blown the snow elsewhere. 

Was this the first time the Toronto meteorologist got it wrong?  Let me put it this way … liar, liar, I’m surprised your pants isn’t constantly on fire.

Angry Birds

A word of advice … now that Angry Birds is on Facebook, don’t start playing it.  Once you start, you cannot stop.

Even though Angry Birds has been around for a long time, I wasn’t remotely interested.  Dieter played it, but I thought it was just a stupid game.

When Angry Birds came on Facebook, I had to check it out, see what all the fuss was about.  I firmly believe that one should at least try something before forming an opinion.  BIG MISTAKE!

All it took was one game and I was hooked.

Those cute birds, the different challenges they face, not to mention the hilarious sound effects of the game make for a winning combination.

This afternoon I was an angry bird.  Kennedy Bowl organized a doubles tournament and of course Dieter and I were there.  We’re both diehard bowlers and cannot resist an opportunity to measure ourselves with other bowlers.

One look at who was there and we both raised our eyebrows … not only had other bowlers come out in full force, quite a few of them were of a considerable calibre.  We would have our hands full keeping up with them, never mind beating them.

Personally I am one of those bowlers who does well when it doesn’t matter.  Meaning, during social bowling I maintain quite a decent average.

When it does matter, during league bowling, my games tend to go up and down.  Sometimes I start off low and manage to increase my game score as I go along; sometimes I start off bang, only to go to pieces later on.  

 

During a tournament … well, I never know what’s going to happen.  I’ve had good games and I’ve had bad games.  I make stupid mistakes, leave pins standing and make one split after another.  The way I see it, it’s not my fault.  It’s the fault of my ball who develops a mind of his own.  

When he has to go left, he veers to the right; when he’s supposed to go to the right, he swings to the left, and then there are times that he goes dead straight when he’s not supposed to.

As for the pins … I swear those things move on their own accord or have something on the bottom that enables them to remain standing … glue, or Velcro or something.  

Anyway, in today’s tournament we muddled along until Dieter shot a 255 in the last game, catapulting us in 4^th position in the qualifying.  Our victory was short lived though.  To cut a long story short … we didn’t win.  Not even close.

Not surprising when I checked out the competition.  One of the men has no less than ten 300’s in his bowling career!!! 

We didn’t stick around to find out who ultimately won.  We left with our tails between our legs and went to drawn our sorrows in a large Hawaiian pizza. 

Does this loss teach us the lesson not to compete again … neigh, as I said, we’re diehard bowlers.  We may have lost a fight, but we will persevere until we win the war.