People who know me know that I'm a bit of a workaholic. The problem for me, and I think for a lot of other millenials, is that I don't quite have a direction I want to go in... I was raised with the refrain that I could go anywhere-- do anything-- and that if I just went to college and took on tens of thousands of dollars of debt that could never be wiped off the books, Opportunity would practically chase me down. Then I actually tried getting a job.
It was the summer of 2008. I had just graduated high school and was preparing to head off to college and the only thing in the world that I wanted was a summer job... I was willing to do anything (legal)... at any wage (at or above minimum wage)... I just wanted a little bit of money to line my pockets before I loaded up my car and left my hometown. I printed out hundreds of copies of my resume, which I'd very carefully prepared so as to emphasize my extra-curriculars (speech and debate competitions, quiz bowl, drama club, volunteering at a nearby soup kitchen) and the skills I'd already developed (confidence, communication, elocution, resilience under pressure, managing groups of my peers while simultaneously assisting my own manager, behaving myself in a professional manner) and minimize the fact that I had never held a for-pay job in my life other than babysitting. I carried a folder with these resumes with me everywhere. Every time I went on errands or visiting friends and family (and, oh yeah, still volunteering) I stopped by any place I'd heard might be hiring-- even a few that weren't, but where I knew they theoretically would have entry-level positions that just might open. Everywhere I went, the question wasn't, "When can you interview?" it was, "So you don't have ANY experience?"
"But I do!" I proclaimed, "I've lead creative teams! I've prepared food in an industrial kitchen! I've cleaned tables and served people and bussed tables!"
Nobody was willing to take a chance on me... in hindsight, I realize that most folks probably wouldn't want to hire somebody knowing from the get-go that all the time and money they invested in me would be a waste after a few months... but the same problem still haunts me, years later. I've gone to college. I've worked. I've held an internship.
This last summer, I felt I was ready for what one of my aunts calls a "real job." I'd worked in a call center and two restaurants over the course of the last four years, and even though I'd taken great pride in the work I'd done and found dignity in spite of working at jobs that can make one feel like a soul-less automaton, I suppose a lot of people would not ascribe much pride or dignity to those working in such jobs. So, I started looking for work, again printing off resumes like they were hotcakes, again filling out applications and networking whenever I wasn't on the job.
Interviews were far and few between, but I landed one, potentially, very promising one at... wait for it...
....
....
....
....
....
A collection agency.
BANG! An industry that has been growing like crazy over the last decade!
Locations all over the country!
Opportunity for advancement!
All I had to do was get the job and start clawing and biting my way up the ladder!
Was it totally vulture capitalism?
Definitely.
Would it tear out my very soul and possibly ensure my eternal damnation?
Very possibly.
On the other hand... it paid well.... VERY well... and there was a benefits package... at ENTRY LEVEL.
And I had experience.
And there was almost no commute.
Initially, I was torn... but I knew this was the very best opportunity I'd ever have, and I could stand out from other applicants because I'd already worked in a call center. I could truthfully say that I'd been called every name that could conceivably hurt my feelings... I'd been demeaned and shamed and embarrassed for money before and honestly, it did not bother me one little bit. Not anymore, at least.
So, when I walked into the interview, (which I'd been informed by the recruiting agent would be a doozy) I had all my angles worked out...
I'm ambitious.
I'm a workaholic.
I'm skilled.
I'm experienced.
I'm flexible.
I sat across the office from my interviewer...a middle-aged man who looked much more like a mid-level manager on vacation in Vegas than the founder of a highly successful collecting agency. I smiled, but not as much as I normally would in an interview. I wanted to send the message that, while I was courteous and professional, I meant business. I was not afraid of him. I was tough. I was sharp. I was his girl.
He asked me a lot of the standard interview questions...
Why do you want to work here? (Money, opportunity for advancement and mobility, a chance to work for a well-known firm, money, money, benefits, and, oh yeah, money)
Where do you see yourself in five years if you get this job? (MBA. Management. Much, much closer to your job than I am right now.)
What are your strengths? (Communication, commitment, tenacity, attention to detail, ability to look at a problem from more than one angle)
What are your weaknesses? (I'm short, I can get impatient, I can't stand wheatgrass, I suck at yoga, I can be OCD)
He asked me a couple of questions I'd never been asked before, but make total sense within the context of his industry...
How's your credit? (Fine. I check it every year on my birthday.)
Are you in any debt? (Student loans... like everybody else... but I specifically went to college where I did to avoid taking on debt or asking my parents to go into debt on my behalf... otherwise, no.)
Then he asked one question, a pretty normal one, for which I had, what I thought, was a very, very reasonable response.
Do you need any time off? (In general, no. I'm available seven days a week at any and all hours. The only time off I ever need on a regular basis is one week off around Christmas so I can travel across the country to spend the holiday with my family.)
Follow up: Why don't they just visit you? (There's one of me. There's a hundred of them. My mother is a widow. Everybody is in one place at one time.)
Fair enough.
The moment passed. The interview continued for another hour. He went on a brief rant about America's "culture of entitlement" during which I maintained a steely poker face and held my tongue. I immediately had another interview with the HR Manager. Same answers. Positive Reactions. Awesome.
I walked out hopeful.
A couple days later, I got a call from the recruiting agent:
"Hey, just a follow-up on the collection agency interview... they loved you, thought you were a great fit, and were very impressed..."
...AND?
...AND?
...AND?
"...but they felt that they just couldn't accommodate your request for time off to visit your family."
I thanked her for calling me and passing along their input... asked her to call me if any similar opportunities opened up.
Part of me was disappointed. Part of me was offended. Part of me said that it was their loss. Then, I realized something...
I had, in a way, dodged a bullet.
While I could definitely have done that job, and done it well, the fact that they passed up somebody who they had expressed was a great fit, who was ambitious and skilled and ready to take-on a challenge, over requesting off 1.9% of her life to be with the family she can't be with the remaining 98.1% of the time spoke volumes of their collective character (pun not intended).
I don't want to become that.
Money is great. It is necessary. But some things are more important.
I later did end up finding a new job. Another restaurant job. I was hired on in their lowest position. It's been a few months. Now I'm a shift leader. I still have some growing and learning to do. I could still do with more experience. Am I rolling in the dough? Oh no. No. Not at all. I'm definitely a statistic. Post-college, underemployed millenial probably fits me better than I'd like to admit... but I'm happier now than I think I'd be now if I was a collecting agent... I went home for Christmas.
It was the summer of 2008. I had just graduated high school and was preparing to head off to college and the only thing in the world that I wanted was a summer job... I was willing to do anything (legal)... at any wage (at or above minimum wage)... I just wanted a little bit of money to line my pockets before I loaded up my car and left my hometown. I printed out hundreds of copies of my resume, which I'd very carefully prepared so as to emphasize my extra-curriculars (speech and debate competitions, quiz bowl, drama club, volunteering at a nearby soup kitchen) and the skills I'd already developed (confidence, communication, elocution, resilience under pressure, managing groups of my peers while simultaneously assisting my own manager, behaving myself in a professional manner) and minimize the fact that I had never held a for-pay job in my life other than babysitting. I carried a folder with these resumes with me everywhere. Every time I went on errands or visiting friends and family (and, oh yeah, still volunteering) I stopped by any place I'd heard might be hiring-- even a few that weren't, but where I knew they theoretically would have entry-level positions that just might open. Everywhere I went, the question wasn't, "When can you interview?" it was, "So you don't have ANY experience?"
"But I do!" I proclaimed, "I've lead creative teams! I've prepared food in an industrial kitchen! I've cleaned tables and served people and bussed tables!"
Nobody was willing to take a chance on me... in hindsight, I realize that most folks probably wouldn't want to hire somebody knowing from the get-go that all the time and money they invested in me would be a waste after a few months... but the same problem still haunts me, years later. I've gone to college. I've worked. I've held an internship.
This last summer, I felt I was ready for what one of my aunts calls a "real job." I'd worked in a call center and two restaurants over the course of the last four years, and even though I'd taken great pride in the work I'd done and found dignity in spite of working at jobs that can make one feel like a soul-less automaton, I suppose a lot of people would not ascribe much pride or dignity to those working in such jobs. So, I started looking for work, again printing off resumes like they were hotcakes, again filling out applications and networking whenever I wasn't on the job.
Interviews were far and few between, but I landed one, potentially, very promising one at... wait for it...
....
....
....
....
....
A collection agency.
BANG! An industry that has been growing like crazy over the last decade!
Locations all over the country!
Opportunity for advancement!
All I had to do was get the job and start clawing and biting my way up the ladder!
Was it totally vulture capitalism?
Definitely.
Would it tear out my very soul and possibly ensure my eternal damnation?
Very possibly.
On the other hand... it paid well.... VERY well... and there was a benefits package... at ENTRY LEVEL.
And I had experience.
And there was almost no commute.
Initially, I was torn... but I knew this was the very best opportunity I'd ever have, and I could stand out from other applicants because I'd already worked in a call center. I could truthfully say that I'd been called every name that could conceivably hurt my feelings... I'd been demeaned and shamed and embarrassed for money before and honestly, it did not bother me one little bit. Not anymore, at least.
So, when I walked into the interview, (which I'd been informed by the recruiting agent would be a doozy) I had all my angles worked out...
I'm ambitious.
I'm a workaholic.
I'm skilled.
I'm experienced.
I'm flexible.
I sat across the office from my interviewer...a middle-aged man who looked much more like a mid-level manager on vacation in Vegas than the founder of a highly successful collecting agency. I smiled, but not as much as I normally would in an interview. I wanted to send the message that, while I was courteous and professional, I meant business. I was not afraid of him. I was tough. I was sharp. I was his girl.
He asked me a lot of the standard interview questions...
Why do you want to work here? (Money, opportunity for advancement and mobility, a chance to work for a well-known firm, money, money, benefits, and, oh yeah, money)
Where do you see yourself in five years if you get this job? (MBA. Management. Much, much closer to your job than I am right now.)
What are your strengths? (Communication, commitment, tenacity, attention to detail, ability to look at a problem from more than one angle)
What are your weaknesses? (I'm short, I can get impatient, I can't stand wheatgrass, I suck at yoga, I can be OCD)
He asked me a couple of questions I'd never been asked before, but make total sense within the context of his industry...
How's your credit? (Fine. I check it every year on my birthday.)
Are you in any debt? (Student loans... like everybody else... but I specifically went to college where I did to avoid taking on debt or asking my parents to go into debt on my behalf... otherwise, no.)
Then he asked one question, a pretty normal one, for which I had, what I thought, was a very, very reasonable response.
Do you need any time off? (In general, no. I'm available seven days a week at any and all hours. The only time off I ever need on a regular basis is one week off around Christmas so I can travel across the country to spend the holiday with my family.)
Follow up: Why don't they just visit you? (There's one of me. There's a hundred of them. My mother is a widow. Everybody is in one place at one time.)
Fair enough.
The moment passed. The interview continued for another hour. He went on a brief rant about America's "culture of entitlement" during which I maintained a steely poker face and held my tongue. I immediately had another interview with the HR Manager. Same answers. Positive Reactions. Awesome.
I walked out hopeful.
A couple days later, I got a call from the recruiting agent:
"Hey, just a follow-up on the collection agency interview... they loved you, thought you were a great fit, and were very impressed..."
...AND?
...AND?
...AND?
"...but they felt that they just couldn't accommodate your request for time off to visit your family."
I thanked her for calling me and passing along their input... asked her to call me if any similar opportunities opened up.
Part of me was disappointed. Part of me was offended. Part of me said that it was their loss. Then, I realized something...
I had, in a way, dodged a bullet.
While I could definitely have done that job, and done it well, the fact that they passed up somebody who they had expressed was a great fit, who was ambitious and skilled and ready to take-on a challenge, over requesting off 1.9% of her life to be with the family she can't be with the remaining 98.1% of the time spoke volumes of their collective character (pun not intended).
I don't want to become that.
Money is great. It is necessary. But some things are more important.
I later did end up finding a new job. Another restaurant job. I was hired on in their lowest position. It's been a few months. Now I'm a shift leader. I still have some growing and learning to do. I could still do with more experience. Am I rolling in the dough? Oh no. No. Not at all. I'm definitely a statistic. Post-college, underemployed millenial probably fits me better than I'd like to admit... but I'm happier now than I think I'd be now if I was a collecting agent... I went home for Christmas.
