The Great Mug Fiasco: Or, Why I'm Never Attending a Craft Fair Again

This week, I had the opportunity to participate in a "holiday boutique" fundraising craft fair at my daughter's junior high. I had never done something like that before - not since I was a child witnessing my mother embark upon her many entrepreneurial efforts, whether it was selling Avon makeup or teaching Bradley Method birthing classes. As an introvert with social anxiety, participating in a craft fair isn't the type of activity to which I'd normally be drawn - in fact, it's the type of event that I would normally avoid like the plague as a buyer even, let alone a seller. I hate crowds and noise - I hate the fair, Disneyland, and airports all for that exact reason. The only exception I make is for concerts, because my desire to hear live music outweighs my dislike of the above. So, as I sat behind my little, black table at the event, I found myself wondering just how the hell I got there. I was surrounded by loud, unabashed vendors, proudly hawking their wares, and obviously excited to be there, while I sat silently on my chair in my Nirvana shirt, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me as my mind filled with existential dread and I returned to the emotional maturity level of a 10 year old. I'm sure I looked the exact opposite of happy to be there, and as a result, most shoppers passed by my table as quickly as they could, with apprehensive smiles on their faces. How did I get here? A few weeks ago, the PTA posted a request for vendors, and something in me made me raise my hand. Insanity - or the unfamiliar desire to try something new - pushed me to take a leap into the void. I agreed to host a table, selling select items from my newly-developed line of Notahipstermom merchandise, a passion project that stemmed mostly from my desire to stay busy and creatively-engaged during a time when I was not working full-time in corporate America. As soon as I agreed to participate in the craft fair, I knew I had made a mistake. Why had I agreed to voluntarily put myself out there to potentially fail or be embarrassed? Why was I taking a chance if no one was forcing me to take one? Part of me wanted to support my daughter's school - something I usually do with my debit card from the safety of my own home. Part of me was in a taking chances kind of mood, having just moved into a new (to me) house after nearly a decade in the same spot. Whatever the reason, the other night I found myself in an extremely uncomfortable predicament. I had done my best to prepare for the event, ordering a large quantity of mugs (my favorite item to design), a beautiful table sign, and even business cards with my QR code on the back. Unfortunately, while the mugs arrived in time, the table sign and business cards did not, so I was left with a plain display, several boxes of mugs behind me, and bruises on the insides of both arms from carrying the boxes. By the time customers showed up, I already felt completely defeated, which didn't help sales - or my self-esteem. After about an hour of awkward exchanges and zero sales, I texted my husband. "I have to get out of here," I said. He came down to the school and started shlepping boxes to my car. I gathered up my personal items and sense of self worth, and hauled ass to the safety of my vehicle, the tears beginning to form in my eyes. I tried something new and it didn't go well. I put myself out there, and I wasn't successful. The worst part in my eyes was that my kids had witnessed this failure. While they had not attended the craft fair, my lack of success was now visibly evident by the dozens of mugs filling up my office. I took a leap and fell on my face. Now, how would I react? Logically, I knew that was all that really mattered, that my reaction was what my children would remember one day - not my failure. After a few days of wallowing in my own embarrassment, I gathered up my shredded confidence, and decided to write about the experience - and host a bargain-basement, Black Friday mug sale. All mugs are now $10 - or two for $15 - with free shipping, when you order directly from me. ;) Happy shopping.