TCGOB: "The Great White Job Hunter" by Steve Wingate

The Car Guy of Benchfield

The Great White Job Hunter

A note to my readers: This article marks a departure from my usual work. Forgive me, but it's something I've felt an obligation to write for a long time. I don't blame any reader who chooses to skip this one, but I urge anyone who is actively looking or considering looking for a new job to read it. To more experienced job seekers, this article will provide little new information, but for young job seekers or people reentering the work force, the information contained here can save time, trouble and even embarrassment.

Remember your father telling you that if something sounded too good to be true then it probably was? I do. I also remember rolling my eyes at him for spouting such trite and inane advice. I tell ya, my dad didn't know NOTHIN'. He had been pulling that kind of logic on me all my life… he told me that when I ordered something through the mail, when I entered contests, or any other time when I found something that I just had to do, or something that I just had to have. Then, when I finally graduate college, when I should for all practical purposes be a grownup, he starts in on me again after he sees some of the jobs I've circled in the help wanted section. I was a college grad and I was certainly too good (and too smart) to accept advice from somebody just because they happened to be thirty years older than me. Sheesh!

"You just don't find many worthwhile jobs in the paper." I remember him telling me. "I'm not saying that there aren't any good jobs in the paper, I'm just saying that you don't find the best jobs in the paper." When I asked him just how one is supposed to find these great jobs, he didn't have a very convincing answer, just some mumbo-jumbo about keeping an ear on the ground and putting foots in doors. Yeah, right. Seeing that I was not taking to his advice, he merely shrugged and walked away shaking his head.

Convinced that I had turned him to my way of seeing things, I continued my classified ads job search. I was finding some great stuff. Ol' dad was right about one thing… I'd make plenty of money once I graduated college…. Just look at some of the ads I found:

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Attention College Grads!

I need 7 wild and crazy

People to work to replace

people who wouldn't.

Make $900 + per week.

No experience necessary!

Mgmt. Opportunities open!

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

how about this one…

APPOINTMENT SETTERS

***********************

Make $700 per week setting

Appointments with clients.

No Experience Necessary!

Here's another one…

Run your own office in just

2 months. Salary $600 per

week to start, 150K per year

No experience necessary.

Serious inquiries only.

Look out world, here comes the college grad, makin' money hand over fist, I'm pickin' up the phone, I'm callin'. I set up interviews with all three. They all wanted to talk to me tomorrow-- People like me must be in demand, I am one hot commodity! I had interviews at nine, twelve, and three. When I told my dad about my good fortune, he only shrugged again and asked me how many resumes I had sent out.

"None." I replied, with an air of pride and accomplishment. "All I had to do was make three phone calls, and I got three interviews. Pretty good, huh?"

"Sounds too easy." He told me. "You just don't get interviews by making phone calls. To get good jobs, you need to send in a resume, then if they're interested, they'll call you." Thanks, dad. I actually felt kind of good there for a minute or two.

Not to be deterred, I set off the next morning for my interviews. Arriving at my nine o' clock, a little business I shall call Noname Marketing, I was dismayed to see the lobby literally filled with people waiting to be interviewed. I sat down in a metal folding chair between two other smartly dressed young men and awaited my turn in the office, feeling somewhat less confidant than I had before. I took a look around the waiting room and noticed that the décor was rather cheesy. There were a bunch of those framed "business inspirational" posters on the walls. You know, the ones that show pictures of ocean waves or sunsets or mountain climbers with cutesy little slogans like "SUCCESS-- It's what you get from being successful." There were plastic potted plants and tables with two-year old issues of Newsweek and Time arranged in fan formations. I noticed the file cabinet behind the receptionist's desk was on rollers-- the desk itself still had a Wal-Mart price tag on it. The whole place just had a kind of bare, unfinished look about it. A door on the far end of the lobby opened and a short man in a double breasted suit strode out, surveying the applicants with the confidant, self-important air of man who could afford a Mercedes.

"Welcome, everyone." He began. "If you will all just follow me, we'll get started." The twenty plus people all stood, myself included, and followed the short man into a conference room decorated with more "business inspirational posters", plastic plants, and three long folding tables with permanent coffee stains on their fake wood surfaces. We all sat down, and the short man, who introduced himself as "Ron" welcomed us to the Noname Marketing family and began to fill us in on "the company". (I was hired already? Wow. They haven't even talked to me yet!) The spiel lasted for twenty minutes, and contained no actual information other than the fact that Noname Marketing was a dynamic, growing company with annual sales of such and such dollars and projected sales of such and such dollars with a lot of long term growth potential, and that we all would be making an obscene amount of money by that afternoon. I didn't care about any of that any more... what I wanted to know now was what I would be doing. Ron finished and asked if there were any questions. There weren't. I decided to save my question for later, hoping that it would be answered before I had a chance to ask it.

The meeting took a turn for the worse when Ron pulled out a set a steak knives. My heart sank. Even though I was young, impulsive, (and quite stupid), I was still able to recognize pure crap when I heard, smelt, or stepped in it. I couldn't help myself… my arm shot up, cutting Ron off in mid sentence.

"We're selling knives?" I asked. The room was hushed, and everyone was looking at me as though I had broken wind during prayer at Sunday School.

"No, you're not selling knives." He said. "We make appointments with clients to put on demonstrations…"

"…. to sell knives." I finished for him.

I noticed that a small, purplish vein had started to pulse on Ron's temple, and he had drawn his mouth into a tight, thin line. "May I speak with you privately for a moment.?" he asked me.

Once we were out of the conference room, he turned to me and said: "I don't think that you are the right kind of person for this company." Ol' Ron obviously didn't take well to being snubbed in front of his "employees". He was looking up at me contemptuously, hoping that I would begin to beg or grovel. I merely looked down at him (at 6'3", I had a good eight or nine inches on him) and said:

"I think you're right." Ron had obviously been prepared for many responses, but not that one. He simply wished me luck in my career search and shook my hand. I squeezed a little harder than I should have and felt one of his knuckles pop in my hand. Oops, darn… I hate it when that happens.

I sat in my car outside for a few more minutes, and was pleased to see that three or four people from the "mass interview" came out after I did. I like to think that I was the one who caused more people to leave with my impertinent question, but in reality, their BS detectors probably went off shortly after mine did.

After my experience with "Noname Marketing" I decided to shrug off my 12 o' clock interview…. That appointment had been with the "firm" that was advertising for "appointment setters", which I now knew was a fancy new word for "door to door salesperson." No thank you. My three o' clock was within five miles of my house, so I decided to go home and relax until then.

At three, I arrived at my next interview with a company that claimed they were "involved with the fire safety industry." Their office was in a shabby little business complex that had once (when I was in grade school) been the swankiest office building in east Birmingham. Now, the shrubs outside were in bad need of trimming, and the building itself looked as if it hadn't seen the business end of a paintbrush since Carter was president.

When I walked into "Involved With The Fire Safety Industry Inc.," the first thing I noticed was that the receptionist's desk was deserted and there was a lit cigarette parked in an overflowing ashtray on top of a four inch stack of papers. The stained and splotchy red carpet was littered with scraps of paper, dirt, and cigarette butts that appeared to have tumbled out of the ashtray on the desk. There was even a series of what appeared to be cigarette burns on the carpet near the desk. I almost bolted right then, but then reminded myself just how badly I needed a job. I seated myself in yet another folding metal chair in the wood-paneled little office and waited for someone to notice me.

A door opened and a woman in a bee hive hairdo shambled out to the fanfare of a flushing toilet. She seated herself at the desk, picked up her cigarette without bothering to dust the two inch long ash off the end and took a drag. She exhaled, then looked in my direction.

"Help 'ya?" she asked. The ash on her cigarette dropped onto her desk and she absently brushed it into the floor. I told her I was there about the job, and she took me to a room further back in the office where there were several other people seated at yet another series a folding tables.

Shortly after I took a seat, a small, dumpy-looking man in a short sleeve dress shirt with a comical beer belly entered the room and introduced himself as Mr. Wheeler. His tie was not only too wide, but it also dangled an entire eight inches above the man's belt line, and he made most of his presentation with a cigarette in his hand. I wondered if I had met Mrs. Wheeler out in the lobby.

He told us that we would be "fire safety consultants". We would be evaluating client's homes for fire safety and helping them to design a fire escape route with the aid of our "Child Saver" package. "Client" is a fancy word for "person who answers the doorbell", just like "Appointment setter" is a fancy word for "door to door salesperson". "Evaluating the client's home" entails walking around a home and pointing out the various glaring safety inadequacies that will undoubtedly cause the homeowner and his or her family to be roasted like so many Stay-Puft marshmallows in the event of a house fire. You simply pick a neighborhood that looks as if families with children live there, and start rapping on doors. Once your victim, (oops, Potential Client) answers the door, you give the "Child Saver" spiel. The presentation might go something like this:

Salesperson (er… Fire Safety Consultant): Did you know that you children are going to die? (At this point, the potential client will either become frantically concerned for their children, or sic the family dog on you.)

Client: Oh my Lord! (This reaction, we were told, is what you want.)

Fire Safety Consultant: Allow me to introduce myself… I am Mr._______, and my company, Involved With The Fire Safety Industry Inc., has placed me in your neighborhood today to help you and other families protect your children from terrible scorching death. If you allow me to inspect your home, I will point out the various things that could cause your children to die.

Client: Dear God, yes, please come in. (This also is supposed to be a good sign.)

The inspection of the client's home now begins in earnest, and you must find death lurking around every corner if you really want to make a sale.

Fire Safety Consultant: (pointing to a coffee table) Do you see that magazine over there? It could catch on fire, get rid of it.

To complete the "inspection", you must look in every room in the house and point out the various things that could catch on fire, and urge the homeowner to get rid of them. You then instruct the homeowner on the safest way to exit their house should it be set ablaze. This, in my opinion, is the one truly useful service that company provided, and it was free. It was also much better than most people's escape plan, which was usually "jump the hell out a window."

At this point, when the salesperson is absolutely sure that the homeowner will not sleep for days, we sell them the "Child Saver" package, which are red reflective decals that sell for 49.95 a piece, and mount in a child's bedroom window so that emergency rescue workers will know that there could be a child in that room. This may be a good thing, but considering that giveaway radio station bumper stickers are made of better stuff than these fifty dollar decals, the "Child Saver" package was nothing more than selling parents a bogus insurance policy against their worst fears. We were to receive a twenty-five dollar commission off of each decal, which meant if we really hustled, we could be done with work by lunchtime, OR…. Now get this…. We could actually work until four or five o' clock and make even more money. Our income was limited only by our willingness to stay out on the street selling paranoia to young parents.

Just as I had made up my mind to leave, Mr. Wheeler came to the subject of our training wages…. Nothing. That's right, we would be considered trainees for two weeks before we saw any money. Meaning that the company risked absolutely nothing by hiring new employees, giving them two weeks to decide that they hate the job and quit. Quite a way to run a business. I stood up and left the meeting, much to the bewilderment of Mr. Wheeler, who looked as if he just couldn't figure what he had said wrong. Three more people fell in behind me, and we trudged out of the conference room, past the probable Mrs. Wheeler, (who waggled her fingers and said "See y'all." as we went by.) and out into the bright Alabama sunshine.

I wish I could say that I learned something from my experiences that day, but sadly, I did not. I eventually did get a pretty good job that was not exactly what I had in mind, but it supported me for a short time. As I sought to improve upon my current salary, I answered numerous other ads that promised the world, and I continued to fall for them long enough to go in for an "interview." It seems that I would have learned to recognize some of the warning signs. What it really took was me getting a little older and finally coming to the realization that my dad really did know what he was talking about.

There comes a point in every young man's life when he realizes that he's not anywhere near as smart as he thought. A point when he comes to grips with the idea that he is actually a grownup, and its time to stop screwing around and take the advice of someone who has "been there and done that."

Five years ago, I nailed down a job that has made me happy. It's still not what I want to do with the rest of my life, but it provides a comfort and perspective that I never possessed before….. a perspective that shows me everything that I have done wrong since graduating college. There's no way that I can instruct a young job seeker on how to avoid these pitfalls, but perhaps I can illustrate a few things about these scam artists that have pulled in so many unsuspecting young people.

What follows is a checklist of "scam" warning signs. Some of these warning signs may also be used by legitimate employers, so you must use your very best judgment-- a job ad exhibiting one or more of these signs does not mean that the job posting is a scam.

Any ad that puts the salary amount as the first line of the listing.

For example: 50K+Bonus!!! It is also a good idea to be wary of employers who put exclamation points in their ads. (Be especially wary if there is more than one.)

Any ad that wants you to call instead of sending a resume.

This is not always a warning sign. I once got a pretty good job by calling a number in the paper, but I had to fax a resume after the initial phone contact. Be especially suspicious if the person answering phone immediately sets an interview time. Real interviews for real jobs must be scheduled into the interviewer's day. A ready-made interview time is often a warning sign of a "mass interview" like the ones I described earlier.

Be wary of vague job descriptions.

Be watchful of funny-sounding job titles like "appointment setter" or "closer". Every "junk job" I've interviewed for has involved sales, and such terms are commonly used because they sound better than "salesperson". Not everyone is meant for sales jobs… there are a few lucky people out there who were born to sell, and those people will always do well. A truly talented sales professional can easily earn a six figure income, but someone who is not meant for sales will be miserable. Always be on the lookout for job descriptions that do not tell you what you will be doing…. They will often hem-haw around with phrases like "our client is a Fortune 500 company", or "our top representative earned six figures last year" or "youthful, fast-paced office environment." Also watch for terms like "minimal investment" or anything that advertises a "free vacation", for these folks usually want to sell you on some worthless pyramid scheme or travel package.

The Internet is no longer a source of trustworthy job postings.

Yet, like your local newspaper, many legitimate employers do still advertise there. You just have to know how to look. When I first checked out job postings on the web, I was impressed by the number of legitimate-sounding job posts… of course, there were still some bogus ones, but they were easier to spot. With the recent drop in online advertising revenue that has sunk hundreds of e-businesses over the past few years, many online job seeker resources have lowered their standards to allow hundreds of these ads to pollute Internet job sites. Fortunately for job seekers, the ad language is still pretty much the same as it was in the newspaper, so the more blatant scams stand out. One of the most obvious signs of an Internet job scam is the presence of multiple postings. In order for this crap to show up in almost every search, these "employers" post jobs for every city and town in a search area, so that no matter what location a job seeker chooses to search, the bogus listing(s) will show up. I once did a search on a very popular job site for four geographic areas and the same post was listed thirty-seven times. This kind of unscrupulous littering is no better than spamming….. as far as I'm concerned it IS a form of spamming. I've complained to this job site three or four times about the practices of these "employers", but I've never gotten any response….. I don't expect I will get a response, either. After all, I'm sure these "companies" are buying space, and that's a difficult point to argue when your income flows primarily from advertising.

Be wary of employers who have ads in the paper or online every week.

This is often a sign of employers who can't keep employees due to the type of work. It could be a scam job, or the place could be a real sweatshop. Not that I have anything against hard work, but there's a difference between hard work that is rewarding and hard work where you are little more than an expendable cog in a machine. Ads that run every week usually tell me that there is some sort of problem with that company. A problem that could range anywhere from poor management to unsafe working conditions. On the other hand, it could also be a sign of company that is growing rapidly, like my current employer. I've been with them five years, and in that time, they've added three new locations, expanded one, and have plans to build three more in the next two years. Because the training process for managers is a long and arduous one, they are constantly seeking more. And they are good folks to work for.....

And finally, here's a specific scam I have seen in action.

I bring this up only because a family member recently fell prey to this bunch. This person is well over thirty years old, has a college education, and is a bright, sensitive, and caring person. Yet when she began looking for another job, she answered this ad:

Missing Children Need Your Help!!!

Unlimited income potential. Set your own hours, and help return missing children to their parents. Call 555-CARE for your confidential appointment.

Her husband, also a college graduate, saw nothing wrong with the ad and encouraged her to go the interview. Had I known what she was doing, I could have saved her a lot of time and humiliation. (It was at this point that I realized that even smart, well-educated people could be suckered into these bogus jobs, thus the idea for this article first took shape.) She arrived at the interview to discover a room full of hopefuls, and was bid welcome to the company before she even filled out any paperwork. It was at this point that this "employer" explained to her how their scheme worked. They would be sent out to various areas of the city to collect donations on behalf of a "missing children's fund." When a "donations officer" (i.e. sidewalk salesperson) approaches a potential client (i.e. sucker) they give out the standard spiel about returning lost children to their parents, and then offer a "free gift" for a donation of ten dollars or more. The free gift is chosen from a cheesy assortment of imported toys, whatnots and cheap hardware. I've seen this stuff first hand, and all of it could be bought at Bargain Town for five dollars or less, but probably cost the company less than a dollar. In other words, they sell people useless crap by playing on the consumer's sympathies, which by the way, is the same way they attract employees. Now don't get me wrong, I have no doubt that this company actually gives much of the proceeds to the charity, but this is still a scummy way to sell products that no actual person would ever need. The company promised that new employees could reach the management level by their third week of employment. Apparently, a manager is anyone who has been with the company long enough to have employees who have been there less time than them. A salesperson would earn say, 20% commission of the daily take, whereas a manager would earn 35%, the other 15% coming from people with less time on the job. Of course, this is know as multilevel marketing, or more commonly, a "pyramid" scheme.

What makes the story above especially reprehensible is the way this "company" attracts good people to their scam by playing on the universal concern for the welfare of children. I know for a fact that is what attracted my sister-in-law's attention to the ad. Then, even worse, they play on the sympathies of everyday folk in the same way with their pushy sales tactics. I've spent the day working for similar scam artists who at least admitted they were out there to sell cheap imported products. These folks are doing the same thing, but using the public's emotions to sell the product, often at a much larger profit. After all, someone who donates $50 gets the same as someone who donates $10. The price of the item is limited only by the "donor's" goodheartedness. The very worst part about this is that far more people fall for it, and many will smile and tell the "donations officer" that they don't need a free gift, but they are "glad to help out." I can't help but wonder if the "donations officer" gets a cut of these as well.

I ran one of these people off from my business last year, but not before she had collected "donations" and issued "free gifts" to more than twenty people. A conventional salesperson wouldn't have done anywhere near as well.

I urge anyone who is out looking for a job right now to be cautious when answering ads. Chances are, you'll be able to land a good job with a reputable company if you learn to listen for the warning signs. If you run across an ad that you are unsure of, feel free to send it to me, and I'll be glad to tell you what I think. Keep in mind, however, that I am no expert, and that I can only tell you what I know from my own experience. I'm writing this simply because I've had enough of all the BS artists out there, and I want to keep others from falling into the same traps I did.

Good luck in your search.

2001 Car Guy of Benchfield