"Would you like to save a child for only one dollar a day?" Part 2

The day of observation came. I bussed over, this time, dressed in a less extreme fashion: wearing only a shirt and tie. I was prepared for a very tiring day. Being curious as to what type of job this could be, and honestly, being quite anxious, I almost missed my bus stop. When I arrived at the office, this time a little later, there were still many people waiting in the green room. It seems their interviews continue throughout the day. I was given another form to fill, just an agreement that I am not being paid on my day of observation, again handed to me by that very attractive and tall receptionist.

I finished my form, again, waited silently and awkwardly with a few other people. I recognized some of them from the day before. The attractive French lady, the man with the leather boots.

Suddenly - "(Loud indiscernible ruckus)" followed by repeating "(Loud indiscernible ruckus)."

"Sales... serious business" one man in the waiting room exclaimed. Everyone chuckled, but I chuckled because I have a strong suspicion this man is from 4chan.

After what seemed to be 15 minutes of this, the ruckus stopped, and the team broke out of the room in a very excited manner. As they walked by, I got a good look at this strange group assembled before me. A couple of what looked like, gang-bangers, some guy wearing an emo hairstyle, some very attractive girls, and some normal looking people (but I found out later, none of these people were, to the true definition of the word - it will be explained). The boss (Rocket Richard), came up to each person in the waiting room and assigned a partner, a mentor, a buddy. I was assigned to Pistol Pete (I changed the interviewer's name to machine gun max - 'cause it fit his nature better). I was told that Pete was one of the newest, yet most consistent leaders. He had just come back from PEI, on road trip, and he will be teaching me the ropes today. We shook hands, became good ol' pals, and he got down to business.

He asked whether if I brought a notepad with me. I didn't. In fact, I didn't bring anything, since I had no idea of what to expect. Thankfully someone else had a notepad and he wrote down a few quick pointers. We jumped into what looked like very, very second hand van. The outside looked like it suffered an extreme amount of wear and tear. The inside burnt my nostrils of putrid smelling smoke. Even though, as I learned almost immediately after, that they were not allowed to smoke in the van, the van remains tainted of foul tobacco smoke. How could it not? Everyone, and I mean absolutely everyone there, were smoking. It seems the only things driving these people to live everyday is to sell sponsorships, and smoke.

A few others got into the van with us, their names are not important so I won't waste the time to assign names to each. We were a team, and we traveled down the highway in this van to some part of Ottawa unknown.

Pete, took the time to teach a few basics to me... hopefully I can still remember them.

The first thing he wrote down: SEX. Real mature acronym :P

But it made sense - Smile, Eye Contact, and Excitement. He taught me that this was the most important weapon in his arsenal of tools. Without SEX, don't expect to impregnate anybody with your product. What is our product? We are saving children. This is also important to understand, but I had a tough time accepting this.

Then he wrote down a quick way of breaking down a sale

1) open 2) introduction 3) short-presentation 4) close 5) rehash

Following that, the correct way to work

1) maintain postive attitude

2) be on time

3) be prepared

4) work your turf correctly

5) work your whole turf

and 3 others that I can't quite remember. These were not too important.

I was told that I would have a test on this when I go back so I better memorize them throughout the day.

We were dropped off in a corner of a small community, it seems each had a special area to cover. Pete and I got out of the car, he came out first, and I climbed out second. By the time I got out, he was already in the middle of lighting a cigarette. He showed me a black and white photocopy of a section of the map of Ottawa. There were other black lines on various roads, and we were dropped off in a section marked off with highlighter. Our "turf" for the day is the section within the highlighted box.

We were dropped off at around 1AM, when hardly anyone was home. But our goal was to talk to at least 50 people by lunch which is around 5PM. He asked me what kind of people would be home at this time, I used my implicating skills learned from business class and deduced that we would be talking to old people, housewives, and unemployeds. He asked me how I would be able to sell to these people considering they either don't want to, or they can't really afford to sponsor a child even if they wanted to (which they didn't). I didn't know how to answer this.

Then he told me, it doesn't really matter whether if we sell to these people or not. Using the law of average, the more "no's" talk to should mean that we come closer to a "yes." Some bullshit statistics, but I think it's more about keeping morale high than anything. And anyone not familiar with statistics would have gobbled this up like a chicken gobbles up corn. But I went along with it, and I'm glad I did.

We talked to various kinds of people. The ones who shut their doors on our faces (the quick no's); the ones who listen to every word, then quickly rejects us (time vampires); the sympathetic people who already donated recently, be that donation legitimate or not. And every time a cute girl came to the door, Pete would work his charms, and I was amazed at how easily the girls were charmed by his words (while also quickly taking mental note for myself in the future :P).

Here's what a typical pitch would sound like:

"Hey! How are you? Don't worry! I'm not a salesperson (and if there was a dog - 'you don't need to sick the dogs on me!), I'm not asking for donations. I'm actually hear doing something I'm very proud of doing." *Quickly opening the Port containing the laminate of information and suggestively handing it to the homeowner.*

"My name is Pete, and this is my bodyguard" *points at me* (this usually gets a few chuckles, considering how nonthreatening I look... damn).

"We here on an emergency campaign today, due to all the natural disasters happening in the world lately, and we have been given a few children that have been waiting the longest for a quality sponsor such as yourself to provide food, water, shelter, basic necessities."

"Do you know how much it costs to save the life of a child? Only 1 dollar a day, do you think you can afford to save a child for only 1 dollar a day? I mean, to us a dollar is pocket change, but to these kids. To these kids, it means another day of living."

I won't retell the entire pitch, but it generally revolves around that. The rest is about customizing, getting the home owner to talk about themselves.

I was later taught that I should ask questions like "where do you work? do you have any kids?" as hooker questions. They prod the person to talk and usually they give much more valuable information of which you can easily use to your advantage.

A few impulses I learned later - urgency, nonchalance, emotional, Jone's, (and a few others I can't quite remember). And it was always important to sell yourself, to sell your enthusiasm for the program so that people sponsor a child not because they're saving a child, but because you showed them how much it means to you so they do it for you.

Urgency - "we're only in the neighbourhood for the day"

Nonchalance - "oh, that's okay, well, I'll just move on to the next door then"

Emotional - "saving lives, and communities"

Jone's effect - this is where other people are doing something, and you feel compelled to act that way too "your neighbourhood has been very good to us today, we started out the day with 6 kids, but we're left with 4"

That's usually a lie, we start the days with only 4 people.

Also, something else I learned, the less number of options you present to the client, and the later it is in the day, the easier it is to sell. It's easier to sell your enthusiasm this way, and when you end the day with only 1 kid left in your portfolio, they are compelled to help you make a perfect day.

Our goal was not to sell anything, our goal was to make a 4 second friend, then convince him that this was a good idea. So it's usually important to get out the "my name is... oh, what's yours?" "How's your day? ya? I'm fine thanks, most people don't ask me!" "Oh, like your shirt, where did you buy it?"

Anything to connect with the person and show him/her you are human, and not to hide behind the mask that is World Vision, or Planned Canada.

The day went smoothly. We talked to 50 households before 5PM, and by that time, we haven't had one bite. Some nibbles, but no bites. But it's okay, we were about to make a second trip around the neighbourhood after lunch. This way, we already crossed off the people who were absolutely "no's" and all that are left are people who expressed interest before hand, or people who had jobs.

By 9 o'clock, we had 3 deals. One of which was to a schoolteacher who was going to get the entire class involved. The idea was suggested by us. We were playing a bit of daylight inception, step out of the way Di Caprio and Nolan!

3 deals in one day is a lot. If someone carries out 3 deals in all 5 days of the week, they would have 15 deals in that week, earning them not only a high hourly wage for the week, but also an Ace of Spades. You get your picture taken and have you face and accomplishment forever plastered to the wall.

The van picked us up at the same street corner and we drove silently back, exhausted. 8 hours of solid walking and knocking on doors will wear you down. But to be honest, I hadn't felt how tired I was until I sat down in that van. Pete went through what he had taught me early in the day, and asked me whether if I was prepared to work very hard. 'Cause this job is not forgiving, and if I wasn't willing to work hard, I'd better just leave now and not waste both of our times. I agreed to try my hardest... and in the week that followed, I proved my worth.

I wrote a short quiz in the office, and Pete had talked to Rocket Richard who then called into his office alone and asked me why I wanted to work here. I told him that I want to work here because it was something that I figured would get me out of my shell (I was very right), and to be honest I was between jobs. But I would be committed to work my hardest for him.

I went home that night with an acknowledgement, and a job. Rocket Richard asked me to come in on Monday and start working officially. I shook hands with Pete, said goodbye, and went home, dog tired, and just waiting to pass out at home.

Now understanding what the job is about, I was prepared to come back in and prove my worth on Monday. Monday would be my first official day -- on Monday, I get to do the selling. But what happened thereafter was not exactly according to plan.

-Wayne

"Would you like to save a child for only one dollar a day?" Part 1

I've told to many of my experiences as a door-to-door salesperson helping organizations like World Vision and the Foster Parent's Plan to get sponsors. I've never completely told anyone about the story from beginning to end, however. It was always snippets of what I thought was really interesting, but in reality, the entire experience was less than anything of exciting.

It was a hard job, but it wasn't a tedious job (mostly), and it requires quite a bit of cunning. And I miss it.

I started working for Top Notch Advertizing Inc in the beginning of this summer, when I was in the middle of looking for summer employment. I scoured the internet of ads and postings hoping I would be able to find a quality, if not, well paid position. It was extremely difficult. Government offices were not accepting my resumes and applications and I was feeling the pressures of getting a job as by this point, my father had been out of work for a year and a half.

My parents kept our financial struggles away from me, but I'm not an idiot, and I've always been good at calculating finances. We've all been tightening our belts, but if better news didn't come soon, my dad would lose his EI in the next little while. So I felt the pressures of at least finding *a job* towering over and raining down on me like the erupting Mount Vesuvius.

One day, I took interest in an ad on Kijiji -- "performance based pay... hourly wage, not commissions based." I was skeptical as to what kind of a job this could be and gave a call as that was the only source of contact.

"Hello, Top Notch Advertizing, how can I help you?" Answered a man who spoke with the speed of greased lightning.

"Uh, just responding to an ad you posted on Kijiji, I would like to apply for said position" (and I thought to myself, whatever the position maybe)

"Do you think you have what it takes to be Top Notch?"

"Yep!"

"Cool, come in tomorrow at 11am for an interview, dress to impress."

"okay..."(that was easy)

Of course, for the rest of the day, I thought I had just stumbled upon some big scam. What kind of company would offer an interview just like that? I decided to follow through - it says it is not commissions based, so what have I got to lose?

I went to the interview the next day, dressed in a suit-and-tie. Followed the directions and drove to a sketchy industrial neighbourhood just off of Carling Ave. I was sketching out a bit at this moment, and was contemplating on whether if I should step into the door, and if I do, whether if I will see my family or livers again.

I pull open the dusty door, which looks like an emergency exit more than an entrance. I see a narrow staircase, with light shining at the end. I climb up. *thump thump thump*

"Hello, are you here for the interview?"

In front of me sat the receptionist. It probably because the office had huge windows and the sun outside was as bright as Einstein, but I swear her face glowed. She was beautiful. She had blond hair, a blue dress, and a stud in her nose, right under the bridge. The office looked nice enough, a few meeting rooms, a huge fish tank, and an empty room behind me with whiteboards. Haven't I seen offices like these before on TV? The ones telling us how they lie about their operations, take our down payments, then disappear the next day?

If they asked for down payment for anything, I will leave. Not worth leaving now, plus, there's a hot girl here asking me to fill out my name, address, and personal information, what could possibly go wrong, right? She could be asking for my number so she could call it in the future, right? ;)

I took the board, and asked to fill it out in a green waiting room with 5 or 6 framed motivational posters on the walls. It seems like they are trying way too hard to seem like a professional working environment.

There were also 3 other people here with me: a white guy with a beard, suit jacket, dress pants, and... leather boots? 2 black girls filling out one form talking in a very secretive manner. Soon a white girl came in, she was speaking in French... damn, not bad looking. I fill out my sheet, and by this time, another guy came in. Geez, high traffic eh? Well, I guess they didn't really have any screening process pre-interview. In this job economy, anyone will take anything.

A loud short man in a white suit comes up the stairs. The receptionist, we will call her Shaw (last name Tee), greeted the strange little man in the cheeriest way... shit this must be the boss. They have some inane conversation about the new fish he had just put into the tank, and the man disappears into the back. I just realize how quiet the waiting room had been the entire time. No one was saying anything, and it was really awkward. I guess everyone had the same questions in mind "What the fuck am I doing here? When do the interview begin?"

I looked at the time - 11:30. Cool. Punctuality is not an issue in this office. That's reassuring.

Another 15 minutes passed. Okay, this is getting ridiculous, when are they going to star-

A mulatto dressed in a full greysuit walked into the room with a clipboard, called out a name. It was one of the people before me, shook the guy's hand, introduces his name (we'll call him Machine Gun Max), brought the man out of the room and they disappeared around the corner. Shit -- will we ever see that man again? If I wanted to run, now's the time...

Another mulatto came around, introduced his name (Sureshot Steve), and brought one of the black girls away for an interview. Apparently the other girl was just there to accompany her friend.

This went on for a bit, with the two men alternating. My interview happened to be with Max. We get past the cordialities, and I follow him to an office, at the end of the snaking hallway. This next part became hazy because the guy started to talk. This guy talks like he's driving on the Autobahn. If there were a speed limit to talking, the vocation police would have called out the entire fleet to chase this man, helicopters and everything. Hardly grasping what he said, he'd always end each segment with a question, and I'd be stunned for a second, retrace the memory of what he'd just said and agree.

But basically, he explains that this job is very much like a door-to-door job (I think he called it "a performance based job with a lot of opportunities to work outdoors -- you like working outdoors right?"). He explained that his company was working with quite a few big name clients, showed me the list. I saw Red Cross, Planned Canada, World Vision, and a few others on the list (placing a mental note that I would never donate to this places again). He explained that it was not commissions based, and that I will be paid for every dollar worked. Except, my wage will go up if I performed well, and I am given 2 weeks of paid training. Not all bad.

We concluded the interview with him informing me that tomorrow I will have a second interview on the field - my day of observation. I will be working with another employee and it will be determined whether if I am suitable for the job. I thanked him for his time (and silently thanking him for allowing me to leave with my organs). Upon my way out, I took another look at the beautiful receptionist, another look into the green waiting room where even more people now sat, and I took a look into the empty room with a lot of white-boards wondering what secrets this mystical shrine possessed.

I left dazed and confused, and with a lot of unanswered questions. "What kind of people will I be working with?" "What kind of door-to-door will I have to do? What is door-to-door like?" "Should I even keep this job? I mean, door to door is quite a transgression of my morals..."

"Where in the world is Carmen San Diego?"

Too many unanswered questions, my head hurts. Just drive home for now, forget about tomorrow, and have a good night's rest. Because tomorrow will be a fucking long day.

-Wayne

Understanding Myself.. part 1

My frosh week was absolutely uneventful... I can blame other people for it, but the real problem was me -- I didn't want to socialize with new people / I was scared to in such a setting.

Readers who know me, know that I do not play any sport and know that I am not too active. So I felt difficulties in striking up a conversation with other people, because they always inevitably ask, "what sport do you play?" I can't say none either, because then they ask, "oh yeah? what do you do then?" Whatever response then I come out with will seem lame and make me look like a geek. And god forbid I look like a geek, because I'm cool! Maybe it's time to pick up a sport?

I have come to terms with what I am like, but whenever I meet new people, I try to change that perception of me. Then people think I'm boring and 1-dimensional, then I grow bored, drop the facade. It takes a long time for people to know me on a personal level, and this is why I like to hangout with old friends, and have a difficulty making new friends in the beginning.

And I can't start playing a new sport because I'm afraid of making myself look like a fool... which I'll inevitably do for the first little while playing whatever sport. And quite frankly, I just don't find any of them fun. Plus, (I might just be making excuses for myself) it's hard to start sports at an age so much later than other people, maybe starting to play a sport young would have helped? But I did play sports when I was younger, up to pretty much until grade 9. Even in grade 9 I played badminton. So what's the problem?

I can't answer this question.

I'm afraid I've realized how arrogant and vain I really am. I hold myself in a really high esteem, and as the Chinese would call it -- I have very thin skin. I've even realized I possess certain dark traits. And I masquerade them through trying to appear as a normal functioning citizen of society.

Haha.. those last few lines make me seem like psychopath / serial killer. No, nothing really big or major (arguable by some people), and I do have morals... at least I believe I have strong morals.

Anyways, how did I end up typing all of that? I realized my only motivating factor in life is to blend in with society and seem sociable. Otherwise, I don't really have a desire to do anything.

I mean... I enjoy playing the guitar, but I have no motivation to do better; I enjoy going to the gym only when I'm in a routine, but once I out of my routine, I'm in a rut and nothing motivates me to go back. This ties back to my dislike of sports, and everyone knows physical activity results in endorphins, making people happy. I feel a need to interact with people, but I also dislike talking to people for a long time. It exhausts me. I usually just like to live life in my own little world. Which is why when I'm high (OMG!! YOU DO DRUGS?!?)*, I don't talk at all, or at least, don't want to talk at all -- I'm too busy lost in my own little world. I'm too busy talking to myself (in my head). That's partly the reason why I don't want to smoke weed again. I probably still will... maybe once a year or something of that frequency. V EQUALS LAMBDA F!

*Grow up people, marijuana is less dangerous than alcohol. And no, I'm not a junkie or anything (as if you can be a marijuana junkie) I just occasionally "puff-puff-pass".

What a strange blog post. That felt more like a therapy session than stories.

There will most probably be more to come, but they won't be in chronological order -- or in any order really.

Off for now, doing whatever,

Xman/Wayne

LMOM 3.0

Hey everybody... whoever you are...

Haha.. why I laugh is beyond me - I must be going insane.

So this post is gonna a mushy sentimental piece of crap... so don't read until you've finished your meal for at least an hour.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Now. I've never kept track of my life on a day to day basis like using a journal or keeping a diary, but I've had to write about significant events in my life throughout much of my young life. Homework... from home. I remember hating to do those and how every single kid on the block didn't have to deal with this BS; I remember how I thought I had the worst parents ever and how I would wish for anything to get me out of writing them.

Heh, life is ironic. I love reading them now, and through this way, I kept a lot of absolutely amazing memories from being lost... forever. Time is a bitch.

The thing is, I never begin to realize how fast time goes until I start to reflect on the past... and it just makes me so sentimental. But I can't afford to be sentimental right now, I have an entire life to live, I have my old age to reflect on how great my life had been.

Which brings me to the next part. I want to, once again, keep a log of what's been going on with my life. The past two years have been magnificent. The last year of high-school and the first year of university are and will probably be the closest events to being polar opposites in my life in a back-to-back fashion - and what a crazy time these two years have been. They were full of energy and magnetism.

I have read some of my older posts... I've matured beyond them. This means I will no longer be writing long opinion-based essay-articles. I had fun writing them, and I'm even enjoying re-reading them. But like the blog states... my opinions don't matter. Life goes on whether if I want it to or not, let alone liking it.

I will not be updating this daily, but I would like to update it at least weekly. I might write a few articles in the next few days regarding significant events of first year. My life will be open to the world, and if you happen upon it. You now know a little bit more about someone you didn't even know existed. My life will be like a story book to you, just like how everyone else is just like an NPC in an MMORPG.

I do not wish to sound so geeky, but no other analogy describes the situation as well. Other people are just like computer programs to you as you are to them. To everyone, everyone else only reacts based on their decisions. I wish to bring you, the reader, into my life and imagine my life through my eyes, and understand and know me even though you will never meet me.

I also do not believe Asquaredx2 nor phleet will ever contribute again, but I do welcome their inputs, as this blog isn't even truly mine.

I thank you for reading through that long piece of e-garbage if you did.

More updates will be coming in the next little while, and LMOM will soon be back on schedule in another fashion.

Signing Off,

noname/x-man