Passive Marketing Strategies for Direct Sales and MLM Network Marketing Sellers

Passive Marketing Strategies for Direct Sales and MLM Network Marketing Sellers

 

MLMs have a bad reputation, but they don’t need to. Passive marketing takes much of the bad rep out of the name, as it doesn’t involve hard selling. 

 

Passive Marketing Strategies for MLMDirect Sales_Network Marketing Sellers

 

If you haven’t been following my MLM and Direct Sales posts, start here: 

Passive MarketingDirect Sales: How and Why It Could Be Your Best Money Maker

Side Hustle Showdown: Etsy (with MLM/DS book information)

MLM & Network Marketing 

 

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The Hustle

 

So I decided to start selling Avon again. I enjoy their products, and it’s been a couple of years since I sold, so I was running low on my favourite products. I signed up under a friend to restart my business, and picked up some books. 

 

 

Passive Marketing

 

This time around, I am doing things in a more passive manner. If you are looking to grow your business quickly to start making money, and excel at network marketing, I recommend my 30-day book: MLM and Network Marketing. If you want to do it passively, then you will not see money immediately, but you will see growth. 

 

 

Passive Marketing Strategies

 

On Saturday, a neighbour and I held a small yard sale. It was impromptu, and not a lot of signage went into it. I only had yard sale items from the last one I had a year ago, therefore I thought I’d put out the same items and see what happens. 

 

A lot of my items were overstock from Avon, so I knew those who would be interested in my products would likely (about 1 of every 2 people) be interested to know if I still sold Avon. I placed out 6 brochures and some business cards for the taking. 

 

Now, I have also learned there’s the impromptu yard or garage sale, and the there’s the planned one. Since this one was totally impromptu, I didn’t expect a lot of traffic. We sat out for about 3 hours, and sold a bit of stuff. While it wasn’t in the hundreds of dollars, it was still worth my time. After the traffic died down, I packed everything up and donated it to the local Good Will. 

 

Normally, I would have seen enough traffic to see those brochures all go home, but this time I had some left. Here’s what I did next. 

 

I have a bus stop with a shelter on my street, so I packaged the brochures in two bags to help keep them dry, and left two at the bus stop. This stop is a busier one, so I expect that they will find a new home rather quickly, and if I’m lucky, they will be left on the bus for new people as well. 

 

 

Conclusion: 

 

Passive Marketing #1: Wherever you are, leave a few books out for people to see. If they ask to take one home, you may get a deal out of it. 

 

Passive Marketing #2: If you have a public gathering point near your house, like a bus stop, it’s the perfect spot to leave reading material. People are waiting and need something to do other than looking at their phones all day. Sometimes you will luck out and the right person will pick up your brochure for an order. 

 

Alternatively, that could also lead to free advertising on the bus, at the person’s work, or many other places. It can also lead to the garbage or recycling, but that’s a chance you take with passive marketing. 

 

Lastly, you want to look at your demographics. The people that love Avon the most tend to be older people, and people that don’t travel to the stores often. Seniors are perfect examples. Seniors ride the bus because they may not drive anymore, but still need to get around. Taking a bus trip isn’t something they gear up to do often, so the idea of an ordering service would appeal to them. Plus, who doesn’t love the Avon Lady? 😉 

 

Want more about this side hustle? Comment below, and I will continue to post/answer your questions! 

 

Recommended Readings:

Side Hustle Showdown: Amazon Kindle Publishing

Passive Savings Vehicle for Canadians: Mylo

 

This post may contain affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through these links. Please see my disclosure for more information. Amazon Affiliate Disclosure: I am a participant in the Amazon Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for me to earn fees by providing links to Amazon.ca and affiliated sites. 

My Colossal $10K Mistake

mistakeBackground 

When I was 18, I went to college for the first time. I studied Social Service Worker, in hopes of working with people who had addictions, relationship rescues and job coaching. I had recently left my childhood home, and was on my own for the first time. I hadn’t really planned on it, as it was a sticky situation surrounding my move out. Like every other student, I applied for student loans, and thought, once I became an adult, I would be making lots of money to pay this back.

Oh, How Life Mocks Me!

I started working in a call centre to tide me over until I found that “real job”. I called out to those who had mail ordered pantyhose for three months, and then the campaign ended, leaving us out of work. A newer centre was starting up down the street, and I hadn’t found that amazing opportunity yet, so I applied and was hired on there.

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What I Didn’t Know Could Fill A Swimming Pool… 

Lessons in money were never my strong point when I was in my twenties. I lived like others did, I ate out, spent money quickly, and barely paid my debts. Rent was always paid on time, and I always had work, but never made much of a living. I thought I’d paid off everything that I owed.

After I had left the call centre world (which is a story unto itself), I had been married, separated, a home owner, a landlord, and went from having my life moving into the right direction to having it stop completely, and start a slow slide to the bottom.

Career Change, Life Change, Pocket Change…

It was time for a change, and so I attended college again, this time focusing on law studies. I received my diploma in Law Clerk two years later. I need to interject for a moment: my (ex)husband and I had discussed my return to school, and had thought that working as a law clerk would be something I would enjoy, and would supplement our income nicely. The position was never intended to be one that brought in a lot of money, as my (ex)husband was in IT, and was doing well.

Fast forward to the second month of school, and I was unemployed, and newly separated. I was in school fulltime, and the program required a lot of time and effort. It was rumoured to be the toughest at our school. I did what any student would do – I turned back to student loans to make it through the years.

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A Super Short History Of Student Loans 

In Ontario, student loans are divided into two sections: provincially funded and federally funded. The loans were structured very differently the second time I attended school, as the first time I had a bank I could walk into and discuss what the loan repayment structure looked like.

The second time around, I had no one to speak to, and received the odd piece of mail. I moved a few times, being a student without a home for a bit. Throwing myself into my new career, I started at the bottom of the ladder, making a measely $12 an hour. Not enough for a single person to live on, and to make payments of student loans when they wanted $400-$500 monthly. No sir, their payment plan nearly rivelled any rent I paid. So I did what I had to do to keep food on my table.

I Stopped Making Payments

Yes, today I hang my head in shame and think about all the things I could have done differently, and how I chose to not. I chose to stick my head in the sand and pretend that it would go away. My income rose, dollar by dollar, over the years, never really keeping up with inflation, and I changed employers like I changed addresses. I was looking for the right fit.

Eventually, the Canada Revenue Agency sent me some scary looking letters, and I arranged a payment plan with them. I had been paying for a couple of years by that time, when I received a telephone call from a collection agency. This collection agency said they had received my student loan from the government, and they were collecting on their behalf. Thinking it was fraud, I demanded a statement. The representative said they couldn’t provide me with one, and I hung up.

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Fraud or Not? 

This company continued to call me, and I continued to dodge them, as they were your stereotypical collection centre: give me money or you will be sued! Who wants to speak to those people? Not me. Finally, about six months after that, I answered the phone and told them again, I want a statement. The girl on the phone again said it was something they couldn’t provide, so I told her that I would not be willing to pay them money if they couldn’t prove what it was for.

September 2017, I Started Blogging 

Fast forward to the beginning of my blogging days here, about six months ago. I had started researching investments, and getting serious about paying off debt. My partner and I had cut back on services that we didn’t need, and we worked together to reduce our expenses. I decided to start blogging about my journey, as I had studied ways to save money, ways to make the dollar stretch, how to cut out expenses, but I had never looked at investing, or how much debt really costs. I wanted to share all of this with others in the same boat, as I was sure there were others.

If any of you recall, I had applied for a new bank account with a local credit union. I found out that I had been declined because of a collections on my credit bureau. Sure enough, it was this collections company representing the unknown portion of student loans.

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Yes. It’s True. It’s All Mine. 

What a depressing moment that was, to see that I was another ten thousand in debt than what I originally had thought. I cried. I don’t admit that too freely, but I cried. I got mad at my partner because I can’t fix it tomorrow. I felt guilty at spending money on anything, and felt guilty to the point of eating food because it cost money, and not eating food as waste costs money as well. I started telling myself I didn’t need the extras, and then I would swing to the other side. My husband is an enabler. He supports me if I don’t spend, and supports me if I do. He just floats along with the thought that we will always have debt, we will always have to work, and there’s nothing that we can do to change it.

I’m mad. Fired up! Angry!

I’m really angry at myself, and at the choices I made. Did I think I could just outrun this debt? Why did I accept so much? Why did I spend it all or try harder? What was I thinking, all those years ago?

I wasn’t thinking. Instead, I was thinking about new clothes, a trip to Las Vegas, paying my share of groceries and rent, adopting pets, etc. It’s embarassing to admit this to everyone, but I am hoping someone reads this and thinks twice: 

1. You can’t run away from debt.
2. Student Loans need to paid back.
3. Think twice about your lifestyle.

1. YOU CAN'T RUN AWAY FROM DEBT. 2. STUDENT LOANS NEED TO PAID BACK. 3. THINK TWICE ABOUT YOUR LIFESTYLE. Click To Tweet

In July of 2016, I quit smoking. I was a pack-a-day smoker, and more on weekends. Did you know cigarettes cost over $10 a pack for the brand I was smoking? Literally, I was wasting over $300.00 a month, for twelve years. I could have paid my student loans off FOUR TIMES. When I realized that smoking was costing me that much money, together with the fact that I don’t want to die a horrible death I may have been able to prevent, I quit. (Still smoke free, actually.)

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Owning My Mistake.

This is my $10k mistake. Perhaps it’s more like a $50k mistake, all things considering, but the debt is around $10k. It’s time to annihilate this debt and to make my credit work for me, and not against me. It’s time to pay for my education.

Time to Hustle

So watch me hustle, spend less, do more, find freelancing work, find any work, write hard, blog harder, etc., because I really want this paid off in four months. Yes, four months. My current salary will not support even half of that, so it’s time for some hustling.

Are you hiring? Do you have any freelancing work for me?

Thanks for joining me on my journey. Get updates by jumping on the mailing list or follow me on Twitter.  

This post may contain affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through these links. Please see my disclosure for more information. Amazon Affiliate Disclosure: I am a participant in the Amazon Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for me to earn fees by providing links to Amazon.ca and affiliated sites. 

Measuring Privilege

This post may contain affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through these links. Please see my disclosure for more information. Amazon Affiliate Disclosure: I am a participant in the Amazon Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for me to earn fees by providing links to Amazon.ca and affiliated sites. 

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Meet the Frugalwoods

This weekend, I read Meet the Frugalwoods: Achieving Financial Independence through Simple Living. I was hesitant to write a review of this book because I was afraid I would not find the words to explain my feelings from the book, or how it was presented.

The book is a first-person memoir-style accounting of the life of “Liz Frugalwoods”, as she is affectionately known online. Liz tells her tale which starts with the end of university, and entering into the real world as a young adult. Without telling any part of her story, she weaves you into this dreamlike state where you follow her as she becomes a married woman still seeking her own definition. You will want to cheer for her, you will want to nudge her in the right (or different) directions, and you will simply not be able to put the book down.

It’s been three days since I read the book, and I want more. I want to know what happened next, what new things they discovered as a family, etc. That’s the impression it made on me.

There are many reasons it moved me.

Liz is so resourceful and frugal! Listen to the lessons in the book. There were tons of choices that they made as a couple that the majority of us would likely have chosen different, like the apartment they stayed in. She made a comment in the book about how their friends had already inflated their lifestyles by renting or purchasing larger homes, and she and her husband were still in the basement apartment. They resist joining the race to have what the Jones’ have, they choose to use what they have, and they recognize that what they do have is enough.

Related: More about the Jones’

It’s enough.

I don’t know where you hail from. Maybe you are a low-income earner, fighting poverty. You could be someone who is newly single and looking to change your life. Or, you could be part of a family and want something different than your folks had. I don’t know your story, and it doesn’t matter because this story is for everyone.

Liz opens the book with a conversation about privilege. It’s important to understand privilege, and it’s been a very sore subject for me for some time, and I think I found out why. I was angry that I felt like I had to apologize for being privileged, like it was my choice or my fault I was born white, or heterosexual, or identifying with a female gender, or coming from two parents that are still together, or being raised with a roof over my head, and food on my table. However, by learning more and more about privilege, the reason why I was so angry was because I wasn’t.

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I wasn’t as privileged as I thought.

I thought I was. Yes, all those things I mentioned are all factors that contributed to my life. It’s much more than what some others have had, and I recognize that.

However, and my parents will deny much of this, we were raised in scarcity. There was never a guarantee of anything. We were always told how fortunate we were to have a bed, a room, a home, etc. I recognize now that those statements created guilt, not gratitude, for me. We knew that we would be fed, but there was unstable employment throughout my childhood (a side-effect of living in an auto city that lost much of its auto work), which made my parents angry and likely felt hopeless, or at least desperate and embarrassed. They would tell us that we have cable – for now. We have food, but where’s the next meal coming from? It was truly confusing for a child, or at least for me. We had food stored in the basement that we put away when it was on sale, and yet we never felt as though we could just help ourselves without permission in case it was a meal for later. It always felt like we were two steps away from not having anything, and the small bit that I thought I had as a child – my room, my belongings, my space – was never mine. It was always the parents’ space, and there was not respect for space. Yes, my parents would argue that I didn’t clean my room enough, or that I forgot lunches in my school bag, or that they found inappropriate notes between friends… and I would come home and my space, my sanctuary, had been thoroughly gone through, things were re-organized, furniture relocated around the room, and the nest was gone. It was not mine to be safe in, it was always theirs.

Post-secondary education was a necessary luxury. 

I did not have education paid for, and it was never discussed that it was my responsibility to find out that there were exorbitant fees associated with the prescribed post-secondary education that one is expected to obtain. There was no instruction about money, other than the lecture that I should put some of it away because my father said so, or how funds were always limited, and cherish every dollar you had. I remember going to the mall when I was a teenager, and my friend wanted to purchase a snack. I was looking for the cheapest alternative at that place, and bought a brownie. It was one of the cheaper options on the menu, yet I remember having enough money for a brownie, and probably more, but I was buying something non-essential, and without permission. I always felt guilty about spending money. 

When freedom cost nothing but dreams.

When I was 18, there was a situation that led me to move out on my own. I recall having $2,000.00 in the bank, and thinking it was so much. I had college starting in a few months, and I found work in a local call centre. They paid enough, and I recall sitting in my cubicle, calling people to talk about going to a free seminar, or signing up for this or that event, and having people get really angry with me just doing my job. (Side note: whoever thought blowing a whistle in the phone would stop the telemarketers, please stop. We are just doing our job, and now we are doing it with hearing damage.) 

My Crown Heights, Brooklyn

My first place was the second floor of a house in a “bad neighbourhood”. The upper street was lined with half-way houses for parolees, addicts and anything inbetween, and the hospital was down the block. I had a bedroom and a second room that was converted into a kitchen, and I shared the bathroom with the thirty-something-year-old man who lived across the hall in his mirror bedroom/kitchen suite. I had orange shag carpeting, and a cinderblock basement that flooded on one half when it rained. On the dry end, there was one washer and one dryer. Thankfully, the laundry machines were included, but we were told when we could use them and use was monitored, as was our comings, going and visitors.  

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It was my then-boyfriend who helped me get settled, and the rules of the house were no opposite-sex sleepovers. The older couple who lived below were used to having exchange students upstairs, so I was an anomaly for sure. During the first month or so, I didn’t speak to my parents, and six weeks into living on my own, the relationship with that boyfriend ended. He was my support system, and a friend for many years, and the loss of that relationship devastated me. Never had I felt so alone. 

The change in relationship status did not change my living arrangements. There was no happy homecoming, and the efforts required to obtain parental consent for student loans (which is how things were in the late nineties) were phenomenal. My parents had to remit forms that shared their income, and ability to assist me, and they were so secretive with the information that they mailed the application themselves. My student loans were half of what they could have been, but there was no financial support, and little emotional support, due to our broken-down relationship. 

As time passed slowly, the relationship between my folks and I started to improve. We kept our distance, as there were a lot of hurt feelings and misunderstandings. Other relatives weighed in with their opinion of a half-concocted tale they felt was the truth.

The summer before college

I worked hard that summer, and learned what it was like to be independent. My mode of transportation was either bus, walk or bike. I had a bicycle that I would ride to work, and around town. Like many, I learned how to fetch groceries with a backpack and a bike ride, or taking the bus. It meant choosing what I purchased, not in the best price per unit, but how many bags could I actually carry. I adopted my first kitten, and found out how heavy kitty litter really was when carrying it from the store to the bus to the house. I walked other places, and started to learn the neighbourhood I was in, and pushed the limits as I was a naïve, bull-headed 18-year-old on a mission, going to college alone and not knowing enough about life to warn me about the years to come.

I was a naïve, bull-headed 18-year-old on a mission, going to college alone and not knowing enough about life to warn me about the years to come. Click To Tweet

That’s the digest version of the first 18 years of my life. No family vacations, no educational symphonies or operas throughout my childhood. No summer camps, no big school trips, no escape to Paris for a week. I’ve never been a girl guide, and never been skiing. The big family outing was driving an hour away to shop in a different mall once or twice a year.

It was enough. I was enough. 

I was privileged enough to have a bed to sleep in, friends who cared, family who fed me and loved me in the ways they knew how, and to be in a good school district. I acknowledge this. I also acknowledge that life could have gone very, very differently. My parents were high school graduates, and my father returned to school for a post-secondary education after a number of lay-offs. I worked hard because I knew there was no one else to count on if I didn’t.

Perhaps that’s my privilege.

Besides talking about goals, frugality, family, and alternate ways to make things happen, the book makes the reader think. It’s possible that anyone could strive for the same kinds of goals, and I know that it created a discussion or three with my partner. He was raised in a similar income bracket, but he had more measurable privilege than I did. The home was more stable, employment was stable, and above all, his mother taught them about having enough.

We have so much, and we forget to acknowledge that it’s enough. When we have the basics, we can look forward, and create goals and have dreams. The book encouraged me to ask my partner where he saw us living in the future. While I do not have a dream of owning a homestead or living in the woods, I dream of a small home on water, where the winters are held off and tropical trees have a chance to flourish. This magical place is likely in British Columbia. I am nervous to go there in case I do not come home.

We have enough.

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We have enough. We have each other, a roof, food in our cupboards, and jobs that pay us enough. It will never be a “banker’s” salary, and we will likely not see a high income, but together, we have as much as anyone could ask for, and that’s enough privilege for me. Thanks to the book, we have a goal that we will work towards together, for one day we will wake up and have coffee on our deck, overlooking the water and the mountains, and know that anything is possible, privileged or not.

Thank you, Elizabeth Willard Thames.

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