Warning Signs for New Graduates or Selling a Pyramid Scheme.

Warning Signs for New Graduates or Selling a Pyramid Scheme.

    First let me start off by saying congratulations to all the new graduates. You're done with college. The best part of your life is over. Now prepare your ani (plural of anus...the "I" is a long "I" a-nye) for the struggle till death. For those of you that majored in something useful like pre-med, marketing, or computer science...congrats. You picked a field in which you should have little to no problem finding and keeping a delightful job. Lucky you. Bastards.

    For the rest of us that entered college with nothing but an idea and a dream when we were 18 (Masters degree in Philosophy and Religion. Seriously...what the hell was I thinking? Or not thinking? Is there such thing as thought? Does thought exist? Do I exist? I think therefore I am. ok good.)  and did nothing to let the cruel realities of the world hinder us from our paths, welcome to the real world. Here is my first piece of advice-when you bend over for the world, make sure you bite down on something, cause it is vicious...and the world didn't even buy you dinner.

    Since you have graduated, you have no doubt found yourself in the wonderful position (again I must reiterate the bent over the cold, unforgiving stainless steel table position we have all found ourselves in) to start the long and arduous process of seeking gainful employment. I have been attempting to do this very thing going on 8 months now. It has been a long and dreary road of ups and downs. It has had its fair share of small successes and epic epic failures.

    But I want to pass on a small piece of job searching advice by telling you all, my faithful readers, about a wonderful experience I had recently concerning a job interview. Let me begin by stating that whenever it comes to a job on Career builder or Monster you need to remember this...If it sounds too good to be true. It is. Every. Single. Time.

    I can say this because I was duped once, and ended up in a similar situation a second time. However I saw the very obvious signs and was able to dodge that bullet, so to speak.

    These jobs that you find on career sites start off making wildly amazing promises, that when you think about them, they actually make sense. Descriptions that en tale things like making ludicrous amounts of money for sales work in areas that already know you're coming! Providing services that companies desperately need, yet somehow have missed out on until you swooped in on the wings of a mythical creature (like a phoenix...cause they're bad ass) and saved the day for these poor unfortunate corporations. You could go from homeless to rich in 7 business days. (Or more depending on bank holidays)

     None of the ads for these positions will actually say anything like this, but it is in what they don't say that makes these ideas possible. They are intentionally vague in their wording so you begin to believe these situations are a possible reality. You insert what you want to hear into their "skeleton" descriptions, and all of a sudden you are hooked. So for a lost and desperate group of people, it is like fishing with dynamite for these "companies".

    In my most recent endeavor through the interview process, it went a little like this. On my honor, as a writer and comedian, this is 100% true.

    I filled out an application online and submitted my resume. Less than an hour later I received a phone call from a very pleasant and bubbly white girl saying how excited I was that she got my resume (How did I know she was white? really? Don't act like you can't tell that shit.) and would love to schedule an interview with me, so their company could get to know me past my resume.  (Less than an hour is absurd, at least lead me to believe you looked the damn thing over...give it a day) Well she had already cleared her bosses schedule for the next day (already cleared, like she knew the saving grace for this entry level position was going to email her that day and she was going to do everything in her power as a human being to make sure that this corporate sales messiah could come in for an interview as soon as possible) and would love to get me in for a interview. I could already smell the perfume wafting over this BS job (In this case it was probably Axe body spray, but that will come into play later) but on the off chance, I mean insanely slim chance, this was real, I agreed to the interview.

     I chose a morning slot, because it was going to be a nice day and I wanted to lay by the pool in the afternoon. The next morning I put in my interview suit, grabbed a copy of my resume and drove downtown to the office complex where this company had their offices.

    Upon arriving I knew EXACTLY what I was in for as I walked into the lobby. (5 minutes early, I am a professional interviewer) Off the bat there were at least 10 other people jammed packed in this tiny reception area, all with the same amount of hope and desperation. It was at that moment I knew that I was not going to have a job when I walked out of this interview.  The receptionists in this room were very nice, in the same way that Hooter's waitresses are nice to you. They weren't dressed "skanky" per-say, but they also weren't business professional. They were the appetizer, they were trained to be business flirty in order to make you feel comfortable and wanted and confident that you could handle whatever these guys could throw at you. It's the same stunt pharmaceutical reps pull. They are hookers, minus the sex.

     I made small talk with some of the other people in the lobby while I waited for my turn to be called back. I waited for about fifteen minutes before it was finally my turn. When I saw the gentlemen that came out and called my name, I'll admit that I got a tad bit scared of the interview. After seeing his appearance I was glad I was not a woman. I was scared there was going to be a video camera and a black leather couch in the office. This "professional" absolutely embodied the essence of "C's in Business School". He was dressed in exactly what you would expect. A grey suit, with the air of it costing a lot of money. It was accessorized with a matching button up vest, a white shirt, and a teal tie. His gaudy watch was even an eye catcher, but did nothing to mask the absolute coup-de-gracie which was the tallest and crispiest looking faux hawk I have ever seen in my life.

    ( I feel like I need to qualify that claim. Over the past few years of my life, I have prided myself on the fact I venture to a lot of different environments in order to experience as much of life as I can. And in all my wanderings I have NEVER seen a faux hawk like this. It was a solid 4 inches tall and thick...so so thick. It looked as if it actually held wait upon his head and required a substantial amount of neck strength in order to properly hold it at the beautifully measured angle in which it was obviously lacquered with gel into. It was beautiful, it was art. It brushed the heavens of doorways in all of it's bro douchiness. I wept openly. I peed a little. But I digress.)

     This archetype of perfect business led me back through suite to his office. The suite that was empty. There was NOTHING IN THE SUITE! No chairs, no desks, nothing. I take that back. There were 3 people standing around a white board and writing on it. No rhyme or reason to the whiteboard, as far as I could see, but they were there. Clear as day. Just writing and discussing what they were writing. I am not even kidding when I say I think that they were paid to be there. They were paid to stand and look like they work in this office suite, just to create an illusion of an office environment. It was damn near creepy. After walking past the white board of the damned, he lead me to his office. There was no couch or camera, so I was relieved. He asked me to sit while he went and handled some other business for a minute. This was an obvious ploy for me to look around and take in the wonders that awaited me.

    As to be expected, by the hint of the suite, there was really nothing in this office. There was a desk. There was a chair. There was a large stack of papers on the desk. Blank papers. Blank printer paper on the desk. There were two very large pictures of Fenway park on the walls, and a signed baseball bat on bookshelf. So he likes baseball,  based on the only two decorations in his office. The bookshelf is where I found so many of the wonderfully hilarious pieces of professionalism. The first thing I noticed were the 3 ring binders. There were names written on the side in the distinct ink of magic markers. (Judging by the intelligence of this place so far, that was probably the preferred writing instrument. One step up from crayon, but not by much.) These, best as I can guess, were binders for each of his employees. If, after the interview I received the job, I would have the distinct pleasure of working with people named "Gizzy" and "Chudd".

Gizzy.

Chudd.

How could I pass this golden opportunity up?

     The other predominate feature of the bookshelf were 3 very large, and very shiny workout supplements. Protein, Creatine, and pre-workout NO. A must for any business professional who is trying to balance a healthy lifestyle with the rigorous demands of the modern workplace. Have it right there. On your shelves.

     After a good bit of time, and a few chuckles on my part, the president of the company reentered the office and our conversation went a little like this.

President: Hello....(formalities)....did you happen to check out our website?

Me: Yes I did, very informative. (It wasn't. It was the most vague thing I have ever tried to read in my life. I spent 6 years reading the great works of philosophy from both the eastern and western worlds and trying to decipher this website for any discernible purpose was damn near impossible for me)

President: What attracted you to this position?

Me: Well I saw that you all primarily operated within the circles of the medical profession. Distributing medical supplies to different local private practices. (I...sort of...gathered that from the website) And in this economy anything to do with the medical profession is always very stable, which is something I am looking for in a position. (NAILED IT!)

President: Well we don't actually sell medical supplies, per say. We sell office supplies to medical companies. (So what I gathered from the website was dead wrong. I am a failure as a philosopher.)

   It is at this point he proceeds to tell me the point of the position. He does not want just another entry level candidate to sell products for him, he wants someone he can groom into a management position in order that I can start to make money for myself.

    You want me to make money for you, and eventually be able to get people to make money for me.

HOW THE F*$% IS THIS NOT A PYRAMID SCHEME!?!?!?

    So now that we have determined this position is borderline illegal, what else could you possibly throw at me?

     After a few more asinine questions he got to the big mamba. The one that looms over the end of every interview. The fart in church. Literally, the worst question.

"What stands you apart from the other candidates?"

    I quickly mulled over a few sarcastic and general jackassery responses, such as...

"I can read above a 5th grade level."
"I have more years in graduate education than you have years of High School."
"I am STD free, which is probably a change for you."
"Your faux hawk gets me hot."

I decided on saying some horrible bullshit about how I have experience in dealing with the public, which was actually seeped in over confidence about my roguish good looks and charm. And this is where he decided to write something down. He carefully folded over my resume and acted like he knew how to write just so he could make it seem like he was jotting down a very important note, when in reality I am sure he was just doodling.

    He hands me his card which had the position "PRESIDENT" emblazoned on it, with 12 point High gloss ink. (Why this? Because he probably thinks if he flashes it in a bar girls will want to get naked. Do they? Maybe. It's sad really. Gold diggers. Jokes on them, he probably really has nothing but...you know...HPV. Because he wouldn't know!)

    I get a "meh" handshake and an escort out the door. It was over before it began.

    All and all I think it went well. But that is my point, it was obviously a shit job. It sounded like it was too good to be true. It was.

    God speed in all your future endeavors.