Tupperware Parties for a Peculiar People
by Jana Whitley, 1999
Lately, a rash of Tupperware party invitations have been appearing on my doorstep, unwelcome as a dog turd or a chain letter. I've received no less than six invites in the past month to Tupperware and other various multi-level pyramid-scheme knick-knack parties hosted by the neighbor ladies. I was curious, I went to one. I soon discovered these parties were intended not only to sell stuff, but to find willing hostesses for more parties, like a virus duplicating itself whenever it comes in contact with a host body. This type of marketing can really spread itself in Relief Society circles. The Mormon ward serves as a hotbed of infection.
I think this quilting-bee method of selling says something about the female psyche. It combines two of our favorite things: shopping and socializing. Men don't go for this. Can you imagine a bunch of guys from the Elders Quorum getting together at a buddy's house for a Craftsman tool party? "Hey Fred, glad you could make it. Bill's showing the rest of the guys creative new ways to use a crescent wrench." This Tupperware party phenomenon is exclusively a girl-thing (with the exception of ScAmWay, which indiscriminately sucks in men, women and children).
Is it wise to mix friendship and religious community with high-pressure, high-priced kitchenware? Tupperware parties masquerading as Homemaking meetings are particularly insidious. There you are, sitting in a neighbor's living room with ten other ladies, everyone chatting about what they want to order and looking over your shoulder at your order form. If you don't go or don't buy anything, will it discolor your friendship? Will the ladies talk about you at the next party? "Oh, don't bother inviting Jana, she's a tightwad." And if you do buy something, how much is enough to validate you? Will they start to exclude you from other get-togethers unrelated to VISA and Mastercard? I tell you, the peer pressure is intense. It seems to imply, "You know, Jana, we're commanded to love thy neighbor. And if you really loved me, you'd buy the turnip twaddler so that I could get the bonus deluxe hostess gift at a 50% discount."