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New Hope is having its annual Spring Fling tonight. I have no idea exactly what this means nor do I know what to expect. I only know what it means for me: a new dress, shoes, and jewelry to match. I’m also aware that my purchases in preparation for the event will mean having to ask Tom for more money, as I have depleted my “expense account.”
I have a feeling this news won’t go down easily because as good as my husband is with numbers, he is clueless when it comes to inflation, not to mention what it takes to look good. Being the kind of woman he wants me to be, looking the way he wants me to look, isn’t cheap.
I plan to break it to him at the actual black-tie charity thing. He should be in the mood to receive this kind of information, given the nature of the event. It’s a fair assumption. I know because when I asked what the party was all about, he told me it’s where members go to feel important, and more importantly, to look altruistic.
I’d meant to grill Beth on the dollar amount of her expense account at our sponsor meeting this morning. But as it turned out, she had other more pressing matters to discuss.
“We’re on such a tight deadline for enrollment,” she cautioned over coffee. “We really need to end the quarter strong. Tom has told you, no?”
My husband has not, in fact, explained this.
As I tried to determine why he would have kept this information to himself, Beth retrieved a cell phone from her purse. “This is yours,” she said handing it to me.
“Nice.” I pressed the button to power it on. “Thanks.”
She leaned over until she was practically on my side of the table and pointed at the screen. “I’ve set up all of your social media accounts for you. Your church email address is in the notes. I’ve listed your new phone number, too.”
“I’m not really a fan of social media. Everyone just seems…I don’t know…narcissistic.”
Beth gave me a patronizing look. “I doubt millions of people all suffer the same disorder, Melanie.” She cocked her head and glared at me like I’d just reached over the table and backhanded her. “Well,” she said. “Personally, I don’t feel that way at all.”
“I mean—”
“Listen, Melanie. Let me explain how this works, okay?”
It’s not a question, and she doesn’t wait for me to answer. “You take photos of the things you’re proud of. That new car in the drive…pretend you just got it. Those new earrings, they were a gift from your adoring husband. June’s china: a gift from your new best friend.”
“I don’t have a best friend.”
She grinned wryly. “You do now.”
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nbsp; “Wow,” I said as my hand clutched my throat. “I’m honored.”
Beth shifted proudly. “We’re all in this together.”
“June’s china is old…maybe I need new.”
“No,” she countered. “Old is good. It’s very fashionable these days. Caption your photo with the hashtag #antiques. That sort of thing always gets a ton of likes.”
“Is that the goal…likes?”
“The goal is to sell. Sell yourself. Sell the church. Sell products. Get money.” Beth laughed. “Get it?”
“So…basically…Sell. Sell. Sell.”
“Well, yes. But you’ll want to be interesting. You have to increase your followers. It’s like anything, a numbers game.”
I crossed my legs and settled in for the long haul. “A numbers game…”
Beth pointed at the phone. “I put some sample captions in the notes too…just in case. It’s easier if you plan your content out,” she said, and then she waved me off. “But you’re young. You’ll figure it out in no time.”
I made a play at uncertainty. “This feels a bit like curating my life.”
“Maybe,” she relented. “But everyone loves a good story, don’t they?”
As Beth rattled on, I scanned through the notes. She went on and on about me going to spin class. She’s scheduled it out on my phone. I’m supposed to post that I’m there with “the girls.” This, I’m told, is for community building. After spin, I’m supposed to have coffee, but not just any coffee. Per Beth’s instructions, it has to be designer coffee. She explained how I’m supposed to take a picture of my designer coffee with my designer sunglasses, next to my key displaying the Maserati symbol, and a copy of the latest New Hope Book—penned by her of course—Ten Ways To Live a Top Shelf Life. She tells me how I have to make it all look natural, and then asked me if I knew what a flat lay is. Of course, I lied. She’s very intense, Beth, when she sets her mind on something. This intensity had me thinking about other top shelf things, and thankfully, it too is on the list. In order to show we are non-judgmental at New Hope, I’m supposed to post photos of champagne and strawberries with the caption #datenight.
