Round Robin Madness - part 2

The people at my new job in Chicago greeted me warmly, from management to the sales staff. I was ushered into the director's office by Ron (see previous article), where it was explained to me that in order for me to get the feel of the operation, it would be necessary for me to make some sales calls (by phone) to start. A slight warning light in my brain began to pulse.

But always the trooper, I agreed to the plan and, taking script in hand, began to make the calls. I was cautioned to not deviate from the script and if I secured a sale, I was to ring a bell on the top of my cubicle after I hung up from the call, prompting the sales staff to applaud my success. The script involved telling the party who answered that I was simply calling to confirm if they were getting regular delivery of their magazine subscriptions (a lie). If they weren't getting any subscriptions, I was prepared to offer them a great deal on the subjects of their choice. If they were already getting subscriptions, I would confirm what they were, then offer a special deal to supplement their reading material with other magazines of like interest.

Surprisingly, my first few calls were successful. Okay, so maybe this wasn't so bad. I called and called and called. After awhile I realized that, like playing cards, golfing or bowling, I had experienced what they call beginner's luck. Sales weren't coming so easily, and I began to mull over why I had really been hired. And I missed my family. I was staying at Ron's house, but it just wasn't the same. Plus their favorite meal was beef tongue. Ugh-h-h!

I don't recall how long I was there before the homesickness and work discouragement began to take their toll. One day I met with Ron and the director over lunch to discuss my state of mind. In hindsight, I could probably credit Ron's influence with management for them not sending me packing. Ron was to head up the team at the new office in Tampa, so he had a lot of pull. It was determined that being away from my family was the core of my woes, so it was decided that I would fly back to Orlando and drive my family up to be with me.

While family closeness is important, it was only my selfishness and immaturity that led me to uproot my wife and children again and drag them to the frozen north. They seemed to take it well, and we were able to stay with my sister-in-law in nearby Oak Park, Illinois. After a month or so with her, we were given an opportunity to house sit (closer to my work) for the balance of our stay. This greatly helped me to survive my work experience, and we never missed a Sunday at the local house of worship.

The only highlight of my sales career there was on a day when a call I made was answered by a woman identified as Mrs. Pigh. I had seen the name on the call list and was hoping that the "h" wasn't silent. It was. Wandering through my script, I would faithfully interject her last name (pronounced "pig") to make the call personal. Not having any success at my usual fare of magazines, I did learn that she had children. Now, we were trained to change up on the type of magazines offered if we got a lead for another age or gender. I couldn't do it. My mind went directly to "Then could I interest you in some special magazines for the Pigh-lets?" That's when I lost it and could not complete the call. I quickly hung up before I burst out laughing. I apparently needed to let off some steam, and this opportunity filled the bill.

Finally the day arrived for part of the sales team (including myself) to pack up and relocate to sunny Florida. I was elated. We packed the family up again and drove straight through to Orlando. This would be our home base, while Lois and I located a place to stay in Clearwater, just across the causeway from Tampa.

To put a merciful end to this long story, the Florida job was a bust. I found that you can hate your work in pretty much any state. I began to question my goals and direction for my life. I was a Christian leader; why was I selling magazines?

I even visited a local pastor to get some advice on how to break into full time Christian service. He asked me how much I was witnessing for the Lord. I've always been very uncomfortable witnessing, and I replied that I really hadn't done all that much. His counsel was that if I couldn't comfortably present Jesus Christ before men one-on-one, then I had no business being in full time Christian service. He was probably right. I never pursued a Christian career from that point on.

But what was I to do with this albatross of a job that wasn't even providing sufficiently for my family? My salvation was to come from an elder in the Plymouth Brethren church in Orlando.

Round Robin Madness

Never the one to be content with my life, I once again succumbed to the temptation to make the fast track by responding to an offer from my old college roommate, Ron (see blog 11/12/07). An unexpected call (and visit) from him revealed that he had secured yet another sales job that promised to make him (and anyone who followed in his steps) rich. In fact he was in Florida, scouting out a branch office for a call center, when he thought of me.

I'm sure I have written before about my growing enmity with sales people and the sales profession. So becoming a magazine salesman, even by phone, was not my idea of a successful career path. But Ron, already assuming the smooth salesman role, assured me that they did not want to hire me for sales. Instead they wanted to draw upon my fine arts expertise in order to produce and coordinate continuous motivational programs to encourage the large sales staff to generate sales.

That was all I needed to hear. That, and the offer to fly me up to Chicago for an interview with the executive manager, was all I needed to seal the deal. The plan was to complete some initial training and brainstorming for a few months in Chicago, then proceed to Tampa, Florida, where we would set up the branch office.

I flew to Chicago, completed the interview, got the same sales pitch as Ron had given me, then promptly accepted their offer. It paid more than I was making, so I easily recognized a natural progression up the food chain that would more than suffice to support me and my family.

Just before I had accepted their offer, however, I had received some material in the mail that contained a list of the magazines they pushed. One that caught my eye was Oui, an adult mens magazine --- okay, soft porn. My Christian fundamentalist radar went up immediately, and I began to feel convicted about working for a company that promoted seriously un-Christian material.

I called Ron and expressed my concern. Still the smooth negotiator, he explained that I wouldn't personally be selling the offensive magazine and that my testimony would remain intact because everyone, from the executive manager down to the sales staff needed to see my life in Christ on a daily basis. Boy, rationalization can be a killer! I fell. I flew. And I started.

Little did I know what I was getting into.