PATRICK WALSH: September 2003: Found A Job (Cont'd)

...I assumed that since he had picked out my sandwich and he was going to be "training" me, he would pay for it. He did not. He jogged over to the bus terminal and purchased a $7.00 ticket from Manhattan to New Jersey, then looked at me and looked at his watch. I bought a ticket too, and we jogged onto the bus. I was out $15 for the sandwich and the bus. I found myself wishing someone, maybe Mark, would die soon, so I would have a funeral to go to and I wouldn't have blown $300 on suits for no reason. It wasn't even noon yet and I was out three hundred and fifteen dollars. This was just the beginning of the strangest day of my life.

(Continued from Tuesday, December 13, 2005, available in the archives)

We rode on the bus for a while, silently chewing our sandwiches, but finally I couldn't take it anymore.

ME: Hey Mark? Where are we going?

MARK: Montclair.

ME: What is Montclair?

MARK: Montclair University.

ME: Oh.

Five minutes of silence.

ME: Why are we going to Montclair University?

MARK: Here. Read over this.

He handed me a fairly large packet, and I tore into it, trying desperately to find any clue as to what my new job was and why it involved going to a college campus. At last, things started to fall into place. My "incredible" new job, what with its promises of shitloads of money and new apartments...was selling spa passes.

This may just happen in New York, but ladies, have you ever been approached by one of these douchebags? It's usually some very fratty dude who approaches you pitching an offer that seems way too good to be true, usually involving spa visits, makeovers, etc? I was one of those douchebags. I read it and my stomach started to sink. I had always vowed the one career I would never head into was Sales, and this was pure, face-to-face, mass-awkwardness-and-rejection Sales.

Mark started to explain it to me. Basically, you go up to girls and offer them this allegedly incredible spa package at this alleged spa (an alleged $300 value) for 60 bucks.

ME: And does this spa exist?

MARK: Look dude, there's the address, go by and check it out yourself. You think I'd have you out here selling shit that doesn't exist?

ME: I don't know.

MARK: Fuck you, dude. You ought to know me better than that.

ME: We've hardly spoken, I just want to make sure I'm not screwing people over.

MARK: No way, man.

ME: OK. So you believe in this as a good product and a good deal?

MARK: I give 'em to my girl all the time, and she fucking loves it.

ME: M'kay. So what, do you just approach these girls cold?

MARK: Yup.

ME: And they pay when they get to the spa?

MARK: No, dude, they've got to give you the money up front or it's no sale.

ME: These girls give you sixty dollars cash?

MARK: Cash or check, yup.

ME: You talk to them for three minutes on the street and they give you sixty bucks?

MARK: Yup.

ME: Isn't that really stupid?

MARK: Girls are stupid, dude. Let me tell you what you gotta do. Just treat it like you're trying to fuck some girl at a club. We're gonna get to this campus and it'll be just like you're in college again. Pussy everywhere. You've got to play every girl different. If the girl is hot, then she's gonna know she's hot, she hears that shit all the time. So you gotta walk up as a guy who's a little older, a little better looking, a little more experienced, and tell her some shit she's never heard before. Compliment her shoes. Compliment her purse. Tell her she's got the most perfect body you've seen all day. Make fun of her. Just get her attention. Right?

ME: (God help me) OK.

MARK: Now if a girl is busted, let's say some ugly bitch walks by, some fat bitch, she could still be a sale, but you gotta play it different. If you go up to some fat bitch and tell her what a perfect body she has, she's gonna slap you in the face. So what you gotta do is flirt with her. Ugly girls never get flirted with. Fat girls never get flirted with. You walk up to her and just start talking to her, she's gonna be creaming her jeans. Make her feel special. Just think of yourself as a guy with no standards. You want to fuck every piece of ass that walks by. We're gonna have you treat the first few girls just like you're trying to fuck them. Soon enough, you'll figure out that selling them a spa pass is no different than fucking them.

Now take a moment to soak all of this in. Imagine you're on a two hour bus ride into New Jersey with a strange man who is supposed to be training you, but instead is taking you to a college campus and encouraging you to try to have sex with everyone. I was horrified. I have always had a real talent for talking to girls who I have been introduced to or who are friends of friends or something like that. I know how to make people feel comfortable. But going up and talking to girls cold, no one sucks more than me.

On the bus, Mark gave me a speech that I was to practice over and over. I was to talk them "under my spell," and when they were there, bust out the speech to close the deal. I read the speech again and again, wondering how I could get out of this. Then he said something that perked my ears. Mark made 25 dollars on each sale. Starting out, I would be making 10 dollars on each sale. He told me on a good day you might sell 50 or 60 passes. Do the math here, that would be five or six hundred dollars in one day. I had never made that much in a week. The down side is that on a bad day, he said sometimes he "runs cold" and can't sell any. Still, he told me if I was an average salesman I would make at least $100,000 a year. I asked him if there is any sort of salary, he told me it was all commission. So obviously, selling was a fairly important part of the job. I needed the money and the job desperately, I decided to stick it out.

We got off the bus. I was still skeptical about girls just handing us money, but Mark told me to shadow him. He asked me to pick who I thought was the hottest girl. I awkwardly picked one, we walked over to her, Mark starts talking to her, real sleazy bullshit, and immediately she started smiling and blushing. This guy wasn't all that attractive, but she fell for it. I guess everyone likes attention. He explained the deal, what she would get at the spa, etc, the whole speech. She asked a few questions, then caved, and wrote him a check for 60 bucks. I couldn't believe it.

ME: I can't believe it.

MARK: The sick thing is if I had asked her to take me back to her dorm room and blow me, she would have done that too.

ME: Oh.

MARK: We're older guys with jobs who can last longer than ten seconds in bed. These girls don't see guys like us on campus, they are all gonna want to party with us. Just get your sales done first.

ME: OK.

MARK: I want you to try one.

ME: Oh, no, I'd rather listen to you do a couple, I don't know the speech yet.

MARK: Then don't do the speech. Just get your confidence up. Go get three phone numbers.

ME: Oh...no.

MARK: Don't let the sales enter into it, go and get three phone numbers. Remember what that feels like.

Now here's where things started getting weird. What was this, Hitch? I selected a rather plain looking girl who was sitting and studying. I made my move.

\ME: Hey, what's up?

GIRL: Just hitting the books.

ME: What class are you studying for?

GIRL: British Literature.

ME: Sounds exciting.

GIRL: I guess.

ME: Well, talk to you later.

I walked back to Mark and he grabbed me by the arm.

MARK: You give up that easy, you'll never make a sale. She's not looking you in the eye, you make her look you in the eye. Get her attention.

ME: Alright, let me try somebody else.

MARK: Finish the sale with her. Get an answer. Yes or no, get a fucking answer.

I walked back over to the girl.

ME: Hey, would you want to go out with me some time?

GIRL: I don't even know you.

ME: I assure you I'm very cool.

GIRL: What would we do if we went out?

ME: Ummm...dinner and a movie?

GIRL: Hmmmm....

ME: I'll pay...

GIRL: OK, cool.

And she gave me her number. It felt really good, I can't lie. People always build up those things to mythic proportions, but if you just put it out there, most people aren't going to say no. I walked back over to Mark.

MARK: You get it?

ME: I got it.

MARK: Alright, now watch me do another one.

He caught up to some foxy librarian type and he started chatting her up. Right away she was resistant.

GIRL: I'm not interested.

MARK: No no no no no no, you're definitely interested, listen...

GIRL: Look, I'm not interested.

She started walking away, and Mark went walking right after her.

MARK: Don't go away, don't be like that, don't you like to be pampered? Don't you like to be taken care of? This is one of the finest Manhattan spas....

GIRL: I don't go into the city ever. I'm not interested.

MARK: Stop walking away! Do you not want to look your best?

GIRL: I guess not. Please leave me alone.

MARK: Fine, if you want to go on looking like that, that's your problem, fuck you.

GIRL: Excuse me?!?!

MARK: You heard me. Fuck off.

Then Mark turned around and we walked off. I was shocked at what had just happened.

MARK: Fucking bitch. Don't ever let them win, even if they don't want it, don't apologize, don't let them win. Alright, you're up.

I was all but shaking from the verbal assualt I had just witnessed, but I pulled myself together and started walking towards another girl who was sitting in the grass.

ME: Hey.

GIRL: Hey.

ME: Sitting in the grass, huh?

GIRL: I have a boyfriend.

ME: OK.

I walked back to Mark.

ME: Boyfriend.

MARK: How is that your problem?

ME: I'd rather do somebody else.

MARK: Fine, next one pick someone hot, no more cheating, no more easy ones. Go after her.

He pointed at a girl I never would have gone after normally, she seemed way out of my price range. She was playing frisbee and wearing little red shorts and a white tank top. Long legs, blonde hair, perfect body, big boobs. I waited until the frisbee got away from her, and ran to pick it up. I walked it over to her and she smiled.

GIRL: Hey. Thanks.

ME: No problem. I've been watching, you kind of suck at frisbee.

GIRL: I know! I know.

ME: You've got to throw with your wrist, not your arm, you're pulling it too far to the side.

GIRL: Oh, are you a pro?

ME: World champion.

GIRL: Seriously?

ME: No.

GIRL: Oh, well I'll have to try that. Will you watch me?

ME: Sure.

She threw it again and made the exact same mistake.

ME: No, you still suck.

Here she laughed and gave me a little push. My God, was this happening?

GIRL: Well, we can't all be world champions.

ME: I guess not. It was nice meeting you.

GIRL: What house are you in?

ME: What?

At this point, I felt like I was in some bad 80s sitcom. I had been busted by this girl and was going to have to lie my way out of it Zack Morris-style.

GIRL: What house are you in?

ME: Oh, I live off campus, a few blocks away. (LIE)

GIRL: Oh cool, do you have your own place?

ME: I live with a couple guys. (LIE)

GIRL: OK, well maybe I'll see you around?

ME: I hope so.

GIRL: Are you going to the thing on the 21st?

ME: Yeah. (LIE)

GIRL: Cool. Well, how about I give you my number and we'll meet up?

ME: Yeah, that'd be awesome.

She wrote it down, and hearted the "i" in her name. Jamie.

ME: Cool, Jamie, I'll definitely call you. Hey, have you ever heard the Weezer song "Jamie?"

JAMIE: Ooo, bad memories of that song. My ex used to play it. I love Weezer, though.

ME: Me too! (TRUE)

JAMIE: What'd you think of the Green Album?

ME: I thought it was a huge disappointment. (TRUE)

JAMIE: Really? I love it!

ME: Well... you're wrong.

She stuck her tongue out at me and punched me on the arm. I got a boner.

ME: Alright, well I'll talk to you soon.

JAMIE: Awesome.

I walked back over to Mark who looked pissed.

MARK: What, are you meeting her fucking parents? Never waste that much time on a sale.

ME: But I got her number.

MARK: Cool, but you could have gotten three numbers in that time. You see what I'm saying? Alright, watch me do one. At this point, I started thinking maybe I should just quit the job and spend my days making sweet tender love to Jamie in the grass, whilst listening to Weezer. Between hour-long bouts of lovemaking, I would teach her how to frisbee like a champ. Mark snapped me back to reality. After I got my three numbers, I started trying to sell, but I was so uncomfortable doing it, I didn't "close" one. Mark was racking them up and seemed annoyed with me.

MARK: Alright, so you suck today. I didn't make a sale my first three weeks...

ME: You didn't make any money for three weeks?

MARK: Right.

ME: I can't afford to do that.

MARK: Then start making some fucking money. Let's hit the dorms.

We walked in to one of the dorms, Mark made up some story to get one of the students to sign us in as visitors, and I started feeling very shady. We went upstairs, and Mark would simply knock on doors. Girls would come out and just let two strange guys into their room. It was unbelievable. How could people be this naive? We came in, we'd do our pitch, sometimes he would sell, sometimes he wouldn't. We got invited to several parties on campus. A girl walked by us in a towel, looked really freaked out, and the next thing you know, campus security was escorting us off campus. My first day: busted.

We got back into the city at about 8PM and I was totally exhausted.

MARK: Alright, I'm heading up to Times Square to make some more sales, you want to go?

ME: I've been working for 12 hours.

MARK: Me too, dude, don't you want money?

ME: Yeah, but it's my first day.

MARK: Whatever. Go home, get some sleep. Tomorrow, 8AM, meet me at the office, we're gonna work the city.

I went home and told my roommates, who thought it seemed just as sketchy as I did. I didn't sleep, met him the next morning at the office. It was pouring down rain. We had another one of those creepy morning meetings, more loud music, more screaming, more Glengarry Glen Ross-style ranting and raving. Then we all split into pairs and were assigned different locations. Mark and I were going to a mall in New Jersey. I started to wonder why we only went to New Jersey. I think it was because they had been thrown out of everywhere in New York.

This trip to the mall was over two hours long on a bus. As soon as we got there, Mark started harassing every woman there but today he was having a harder time. These were older women, housewives, businesswomen, women with no time for this sort of thing. Time after time, Mark was turned down and he started getting beligerrent. Eventually, mall security came over and asked us to leave. We walked outside.

MARK: Fucking asshole. We'll wait five minutes and go back in.

ME: But he just asked us to leave.

MARK: What's he gonna do, throw us in mall jail?

We went back in, Mark tried some more, was turned down some more, and the security guard came back.

GUARD: I just told you to get out of here!

MARK: Fuck you. We're allowed to be here.

GUARD: No, you're not! There's no soliciting in the mall!

I turned and started to head for the door.

MARK: Alright, we'll stay but we'll stop selling.

GUARD: I'm telling you one more time to get out of here, or you're going to have a real problem.

MARK: Fuck you.

Mark walked after me, the security guard started talking into his walkie talkie, and I really picked up the pace and got out of there. Once outside, Mark hailed a cab and asked that the driver take us to another mall, any mall. We got to another one, went inside, same problems.

GUARD: You guys can't sell in here.

MARK: Oh, OK, didn't know sorry.

And then Mark hit the food court. He made me start sitting at tables with these women who were on their lunch breaks and harass them. I felt awful, and he could tell my heart wasn't in it at all. Finally, some 40 year old woman asked him to leave her alone and quit bothering her while she ate. He kept asking. She stood up and yelled for security. Again, I ran out of the mall. I waited outside for a bit, and then a policeman escorted Mark out.

COP: You're not to sell here, and you're not to sell at any other malls in New Jersey. We've asked you nicely, and if you are seen in any of the malls in this area again, you will be arrested. Is this your partner?

ME: I'm not with him.

COP: Same goes for you. Stay out of the malls. Is that clear?

ME: Yes sir.

The cop checked both of our licenses, and sent us on our way. I was stunned.

MARK: He's just talking shit, we'll try another mall.

ME: Hey, Mark. I can't do this, man.

MARK: Do what?

ME: I mean, I can't work a job where what I'm doing is illegal.

MARK: It's not fucking illegal, this never happens.

ME: It's my second day and we've been escorted out of everywhere.

MARK: You know how many arrests I've had? None.

ME: I just don't have the stomach for this, I'm sorry. I don't think I can do it.

MARK: Are you fucking kidding me?! I waste two days training your ass and you're gonna fucking bail?! You know how many sales I could have fucking made if I didn't have to fucking babysit you?!

ME: Ummm...I'm sorry.

MARK: Fine, go home to your fucking mommy.

ME: Will I get a paycheck?

MARK: Did you fucking sell anything?

ME: No, but I worked here for two days.

MARK: Did you fucking sell anything?

ME: No.

MARK: Then you don't get anything. You want to be a pussy and quit or you want to make some money?

ME: I quit.

MARK: Say it. Say "I want to be a pussy and quit."

ME: I'm not going to say that. Could you tell me how to get back to the city?

MARK: Figure it out yourself, you fucking pussy.

And with that eloquent line, Mark walked out of my life. I had no idea where I was, just that it was FAR from home. Thanks to some friendly folks who gave directions, I took a cab to a bus station, then took a series of buses which got me to the Port Authority. The whole trip took about three hours. Once there, I caught another bus back home, related the horrible story to my roommates, and then retired to my room to enjoy some Temptation Island, quite possibly the greatest reality show of all time.

To the good people at the spa that may or may not have existed: I hope you have found a new way of rounding up business.

To my conscience: Thank you for not letting me work that horrible job, although every once in a while the mind reels at the thousands of dollars and hundreds of college girl blow jobs I may have passed up.

To Jamie: If you are reading this, I loved you then, I love you now. Don't give up on what we had.

To Mark: I hope that you are getting violently ass-raped in prison.

tags: new york  story of my life  work  temp  

links: digg this    del.icio.us    technorati    reddit