As if sensing her hesitation, Lucy announced, “Ladies, our hostess would love your attention,” as she steered Margaret to the makeshift table in front of the fireplace. Margaret had covered it with the company-provided white tablecloth to showcase the rainbow of pastel colors and variety of sizes and uses for the different pieces. When she signed up to become a dealer, she really had been impressed with these revolutionary new products, but more, she relished the promise that hosting these parties would enable her to contribute something to her household and community.
Today, standing in front of a room of women who all seemed so at ease, so happy, she couldn’t believe that she had ever thought this was a good idea. She wasn’t one of them anymore. No longer the neighbor who watched her friend’s children or hosted weekly cards and tea for the girls; Margaret was now the odd one, the one who had suddenly lost her looks and nearly set the kitchen on fire when she tried to make cookies. Maybe burning down the house would have been better. No. That was wrong. She knew that was wrong.
Gathering herself, she looked at Carolyn, who returned her gaze with a perfect cheerleader smile. Margaret wanted to strangle her. Instead, she broke through the din of chatter with a tentative “Ladies, thank you all so much for being here today.” You can do this. You must do this. “I believe some of you are already very familiar with this miraculous product: Tupperware.” She smiled a broad, hard, fake smile as she turned her right palm upward and moved it along the base of the table. “I know we all need to watch our pennies and, I promise, I am not here to sell you a thing. Instead, I want to share some of the wonderful ways that Tupperware has made me a better wife and mother.” Lies. “With Tupperware, a single meal lasts longer. Tonight’s roast becomes tomorrow’s sandwich and the following evening’s stew. Cook once and eat three times! All that wasted food can now be neatly packed, stacked, and stored to save you time, money, and space in your refrigerator.”
Margaret looked out at the warm smiles on the faces of her friends and neighbors and began to feel stronger. She continued with her demonstration, showing how the remains of an entire turkey dinner could be stored for days. She asked some of her friends who also used Tupperware, including Carolyn, to share their stories. Margaret just had to present one last item and then she could start writing up orders. And she was sure she was going to get a lot of orders.
Margaret smiled broadly at the group. “Finally, I couldn’t help but share this wonderful innovation with all of you. One of the latest products in the line and one that even you regular users may have never seen.” She crossed her living room into the kitchen and returned carrying a plastic container shaped like a Bundt pan with a lid that looked like a plate. “Who doesn’t love a Jell-O mold?
“Jell-O makes such a wonderful presentation, but you have to have the right-sized plate to release the mold into. And then, suppose you have some left over, how can you get it to keep its shape? Tupperware has solved both problems for you with this perfect piece. Simply turn the mold upside down, and the Jell-O drops right into place on the lid, which becomes a plate pretty enough to sit alongside your finest china!” Margaret demonstrated the mold gleefully. As she held aloft the masterpiece of red-, orange-, and yellow-striped Jell-O, studded with specks of white marshmallow and bright red maraschino cherries, for all to see, applause filled the room.
“And then, when it’s time to clean up, all you need to do is pop the mold back on the plate!” She grabbed the base and attempted to snap it, but it was too unwieldy. She needed a table; unfortunately, Tupperware covered the one behind her. She lifted her knee to prop the lid and demonstrate the all-important “burp” seal, but instead of a burp, she heard a tear. Her jerky motion had ripped open her too-tight dress, and her flesh poured out the side of the torn seam above her girdle. Desperate, she reached to cover herself, inadvertently throwing the Jell-O into her chest, where it splattered before sliding to the floor below.
Margaret heard a collective gasp and then silence. She fell to her knees and began scraping the cheerfully colored mess off the brown carpet with her hands. Look at the homecoming queen—she can’t take care of her children, she can’t properly fit into clothing, she can’t even demonstrate how to use a stupid plastic container. Margaret curled herself tightly into a ball, covering her face, her ears, as best as she could. Then, quietly, she began to sob.