One day years ago, I was walking though a homeschool vendor hall that was basically empty. This one vendor caught my eye because of the despair in his eyes. Since I’m good at cheering people up, I walked over to his table and let him give me his sales pitch. I had no desire to buy anything at his table, and he knew it. No matter what I said, the despair remained in his eyes. I finally couldn’t stand it any longer, and I grabbed a random product off his table and said, “How much does this cost?” He said, “Five dollars.” I took out my wallet and paid him. You should have seen the look of joy on his face. That look of joy was worth way more than five dollars to me.
You might not realize that small-time homeschool families have spent their own money to travel to your homeschool conference to be in your vendor hall. They have paid money for the vendor table, sometimes hundreds of dollars. They have a wife and kids to support (or the women need to pay back their husbands, who are now broke because of them). What will they tell their family when they get home, exhausted from the tons of work they’ve done, with less than no money to pay the bills? All because tightwad homeschoolers like you pride themselves on not spending money. You walk past their vendor table without even taking the time to listen to their sales pitch, even though they might have something super cool that you will never know about, that would make your life better. Meanwhile that poor homeschool family starves.
You know what these vendors deserve? I’ll tell you. During the homeschool workshops when there’s no one in the vendor hall, they should lock the vendor hall. The vendors could then choose between two rooms. Behind door number one would be bunk beds where they can take a power nap so that their utter fatigue and poofy feet can recuperate. The room should be pitch dark. Fifteen minutes before they need to return to their tables, the light should slowly fade on (so as not to give people a heart attack from being startled by a bright light). They can look in a mirror, comb their hair, and adjust their clothing. Fully refreshed, they can go back to work.
I bet you’re wondering what’s behind door number two. The second room should feel like a resort, with Hawaiian music and hammocks and crushed fruit drinks with little umbrellas. Dog gone it, these vendors have paid travel expenses. They deserve a vacation. Uh, huh. This is the way it should be…
You know what the funny thing is? That five dollar product that I randomly picked up was one of my children’s favorite things to do for years. That man with despair in his eyes was actually selling something good.
