You're Hired

One of the two pieces I wrote for my Journalism 105 final. I don't think they're too bad, but I believe I've written better.

             A first job is a right of passage, something everyone remembers with either pain or joy.  It took me what felt like ages to find my first job, probably because I was looking in all the wrong places.

            A few years before, the local mall had been torn down and replaced by a strip mall, with new stores and restaurants opening up both there and all around the south side of South Bend.  Naturally, they were flooded with eager high school students desperately searching for jobs.  I was no exception.  One by one, all my friends were finding work at the stores I had applied to and never received so much as an invitation for an interview.  I had all but given up on a job when, while at my insurance agent’s office to sign some forms for a life insurance policy my parents were taking out on me (yes, I know that sounds weird), my chances began to look up.

            Eric Guenther is quite a guy.   Very soft-spoken for a man standing a few inches over six feet, he played football for the University of Illinois while attending college there and still looks like he could score a few touchdowns if given the opportunity.  His father had also been an insurance agent, and after college, Eric had followed in his footsteps.  While he might have been a formidable-looking guy who most would think had everything together, his ability to keep his office organized and paperwork filed left something to be desired.  He was also in the market for a cold caller to reach out to the community.  I was desperate and he had offered, without asking for a single reference or other kind of qualification, a steady part-time job that did not involve hamburger grease.  I was sold.

            I started working on January 15, 2008, knowing full well what I would be facing that night from 5-7 p.m.  I had worked at a phone bank once before when Chris Chocola (R-Ind) was running for Congress in my district and had heard language I was fairly certain people had just made up for such an occasion as a telemarketer.  I had made mention of the fact that people did not want to be interrupted during dinner time to be asked if they were interested in a free insurance quote to Eric, but my hours did not change.  It was going to be a long seven and a half months.

            Up until March of 2008, I was the only one in the office who cold called exclusively, but when I heard that Eric was thinking about hiring another cold caller, I offered to talk to a friend of mine, Elizabeth, who was also looking for a job.  I had not been very close to her before, but the next few months we spent together in a tiny office space getting cursed at over the phone by complete strangers brought us closer together.   I would now consider us close friends, who have shared in the laughter over witty answering machine messages and the struggle over who would answer the phone when a prospective client called back.

            It was not a glamour job and it was not what I had originally planned for, but despite the lack of glitter, I plan on returning there this summer to be yelled at on the phone.  Somehow, being home for that long without sitting in “my” office would not feel like home.