They wouldn’t. I got the ax.
The first four weeks after the layoff I sat on the couch and watched marathon episodes of Spanish speaking soap operas. At first, my newfound interest in the Telemundo channel did not cause my roommate concern. Only when he found out that the only Spanish word I knew was, “Ola,” did he begin to worry. Determined to pull me from my depression, he suggested a field trip to the bookstore. If anything could pull me from my funk, it was a brand new book.
I blew my entire unemployment check on twelve books, a journal and a set of tapes called Awaken the Giant Within, by Tony Robbins. Tony promised that within a few short hours, he’d teach me how to take immediate control of my emotional, physical and financial destiny.
So during the day I watched Mariana De La Noche but at night, I listened to Tony talk about his ascent from janitor to motivational guru.
Tony’s Rules:
Dream Big
Write down your goals
Be the mistress of your universe!!
Pumped up on Tony, I went to Kroger that weekend and picked up a Sunday paper. Earlier in the week he suggested I write down the characteristics of my dream job. I narrowed them down to three essential things. I wanted great pay, good benefits, and bonus potential.
I sifted through the Weekender, the comics and then to the classifieds ads. Right there on page 3C in block paragraph was my new dream job.
Are you looking for great pay with bonus earning potential, travel, benefits, and flexible schedule?
Call (734) 525-5200
With an angelic chorus behind him singing in unison, I envisioned Tony, with his coiffed hair and capped teeth giving me the thumbs up. Bingo!
Monday morning at 8:32 am, I dialed the number from the ad.
Megan, of Vector Marketing, informed me that there was an open house that evening at 6pm. If I were qualified, I would interview that night.
I once went to an interview with knee high boots and a faux velvet skirt. I was escorted from the lobby before the interview even began. Since then, I follow the professional dress code of conduct to the letter. I pulled my only black suit from the back of my closet. Washed out my coffee colored, Brown Sugar pantyhose and shined my Payless heels with a hand towel and a dab of Vaseline.
As Megan instructed, I took the stairs to the second floor and hung a left. At the end of the hallway was an opened door with rock music blaring from it. A girl stood in the doorway with curls so tightly bound to her head she looked like a Chia pet. She wore jeans and a monogrammed polo.
No way in hell this was the right place.
“Are you here for the open house?” she asked.
I nodded yes but by mind said, “Run. Right now. Get the hell out of here.”
But Tony interrupted and shouted, “Grab opportunity by the coattails. You are the mistress of your universe.”
Tony won.
In the large, single room, a fabric Vector Marketing sign was nailed onto the longest wall and gold plated trophies lined the floor. There was a long plastic table filled with trays of cubed cheese with hard pointy edges, crackers and stringy celery. We all nibbled, as not to be rude but we had wary eyes and wrinkled foreheads. The curly headed girl that ushered me in turned off the boom box.
“Everyone, take your seats,” she said.
I sat in one of the metal chairs near the back and balled my stale cheese into my napkin.
“Welcome to this awesome job opportunity. We’re happy to have you. We have a short slideshow for you to watch and then we’ll start talking about making money!”
As if cued with audience cards, a group of her cohorts, also donned polo shirts, cheered as if we’ve just won a sweepstakes. I felt grossly overdressed as the control top of my pantyhose dug into the underside of my thighs.
The slideshow began with an awful voice over that sounded like a 2 am infomercial selling time shares in Afghanistan. It flashed photos of young people laughing and excited. The video droned on as 15 minutes stretched to 45. At the end, the polo legion cheered again and since I still had no clue of what the job entailed, I was convinced that we were all going to be taken hostage by this cult. I pictured myself covered in purple satin sheets with off brand tennis shoes or possibly a standoff like David Koresh and ATF.
A polo girl introduced herself as Megan and asked, “Has anyone heard of CutCo?”
We all shook our heads, “no.”
“CutCo is an American company that has been in business since 1949. CutCo employs more than 800 people, earns millions in revenues each year and has never experienced layoffs.”
No layoffs? My ears perked up to that fact.
I raised my hand.
“Excuse me, but what does CutCo do.”
“I am soooo glad you asked,” she said as she clapped her hands over and over like a three year old.
Four people carried in a long, folding table covered with pale blue boxes of varying sizes. Slowly, she lifted one of the boxes open. Enshrined in a molded bed of grey velvet was a shiny, steel knife.
(And here is where the cult leader slices you open and drinks your blood…)
Megan continued, “CutCo makes special, restaurant quality cutlery. Here we have the santoku, pairing and boning knives. The knives have a lifetime warranty. They are unbreakable, do not rust and rarely need sharpening.”
She pulled out an unlabeled metal can, placed it on the table and carved through the center of it. Then with the same knife, she sliced through an over ripe tomato in one smooth chop. Her demonstration was followed by a low rumble of “oohs.”
“These knives are superior quality and are not sold in stores. You can only buy them from a certified CutCo retailer and that’s how YOU make money," she said, emphasizing the "you" part by pointing to an unsuspecting man in the audience.
"This knife set sells for $700 but we give you your first demonstration set for only $125.00 dollars! Use your knives in demonstrations like today with your family and friends. Those are your first referrals. Then you go door-to-door setting up demonstration appointments.”
Under my breath I vowed that if I ever made it home, I was going to kick Tony Robbin’s ass.
As Megan showed off a bank statement of how many hundreds she earned her first month, I tiptoed to the door where the curly haired cult member was standing guard.
“I have to use the bathroom,” I whispered. “I’ll be right back.” Her eyes narrowed as she decided if I was lying. I added, “Those knives were really something,”
“Hurry ok. I don’t want you to miss the best part,” she said as she twisted the knob reluctantly.
Before she could crack the door, I jerked it open and in my greasy shoes, ran full sprint down the hallway.
***
Don’t worry. Even without me, CutCo still makes high priced knives and Vector continues to sell them door-to-door. And in true ironic fashion, the next job I accepted was in that same building and whenever I heard music blaring or hands clapping I could never stop myself from thinking… RUN!
