Why Business and Chips Don’t Mix
Does anyone else have mornings like this?
You see, the problem with home-based business is that the kitchen is much, much closer. One might say deliciously and dangerously close.
And, for some reason, my metabolism starts craving potato chips at 9:30 a.m. So, I stroll to the kitchen… in a moderate sprint. I calmly open the cupboard door and begin tossing around jars and cans, trying to find my chip stash. To the untrained observer, this may look like a wolverine clawing at a fresh kill.
When I find the bag, I take a huge handful and stuff them in my mouth.
A millisecond later, the phone rings. I run to check the caller ID, trailing crumbs like a jet puffs out contrail smoke. Crap. I don’t recognize the name. I pick up. It’s a customer. Double crap.
I may be dating myself, but if you’ve ever seen Fat Albert, you may be aware of a character named Mush Mouth and I do a great imitation of him with a mouth full of chips.
“Hawooh, Swat-up Swewwah!” I force out, crumbs continuing to explode from my mouth like I’m a fountain at the Bellagio.
Then, as I immediately crunch harder and faster to force the chips down my throat, my voice becomes harsh and gravelly–think of the demon from the Exorcist.
Somehow, some way, I manage to rescue the sale, but it just reinforces the reoccuring nightmare I have. In it, I’m dumping a bowl full of party mix into my mouth when I hear the phone ring.
I see on the caller ID: Oprah Studios. They’re calling about featuring my products on an upcoming episode.
I pick up: “Ha-woh Opwah.”
Then I wake up in a cold sweat.