This summer is beginning to parallel last year's more than I'd like to admit.
During the break between semesters about a year ago, I took a summer job "helping the environment." In other words: Door-to-door begging for donations.
The pitch was for bringing more "clean, renewable energy to the state of Illinois." As you could imagine, my dedication to this job lasted exactly three days. In that time, we were required to average at least $100 a day. In three days, I was credited with exactly $299.
"Aw, too bad," I told myself. And so I quit, spending the remainder of my summer turning in application after application at local and Chicago-area restaurants. Then, approximately two or three weeks before school was to resume, I finally found a job at a local restaurant and became a waffle waiter.
Now, I began this summer accepting a job in "marketing." In other words: Door-to-door begging for people to sign up with a major company providing telephone, cable, and internet service.
To this job's credit, the pay would be better, the pitch was shorter, and I was trying to help people save money as opposed to spending more. So it sounded like an improvement, and I put in my two weeks notice at the pancake house.
But being entirely commission-based, the hours were dreadful. I hopped aboard the 8:17 train every morning and usually came home after 10:00 every night. I should add that the company also wanted me to work for four hours on Saturdays.
The first day on my own went rather well, pulling in some $200+ profit. But then there was the matter of putting in around ten or so hours and having around $25 to show for it. I make more—hourly—at the restaurant.
After getting out from the $2.50 an hour performance of Tuesday, I arrived back at Ogilvie just a minute after my train had left. With an hour to kill, I took the puzzles in the Daily Herald to the bar and saw the National League had a 2-1 lead in the All-Star Game. Since the contest was going by rather quickly, I decided to forgo the 9:40 train as well, and I was treated to the disappointment of Trevor Hoffman blowing a two-out save possibility in the ninth as the A.L. came back to win 3-2.
Sitting on the train, I realized that I had effectively made enough money that day to cover the cost of lunch and my bar tab. Wow.
Just to add insult to injury, I fell asleep on the train. A younger girl awoke me, knowing I probably didn't want to end up in Elburn. It was a nice gesture on her part, but a stop too late; I was now in LaFox.
Could've been worse, I suppose; Elburn is either about a three and a half hour walk or a small fortune for a cab. LaFox, by comparison, is a brisk hour and a half on foot. And a cab will run you about twenty to thirty dollars, depending on your generosity for a tip.
But feeling I'd spent enough money for the day, I opted to walk it. Dissatisfaction with current work situation now peaking, I immediately went to the computer to check the job sites once again.
On Wednesday, I once again—like last summer—simply decided I wasn't going anymore. And with my current cellular phone provider deciding to suspend my service, I knew I could not be confronted about my cowardly manner of resigning.
Better jobs have been popping up, but it's back to the interviewing process. Tomorrow I'll go back to being a waffle waiter as I've been doing for basically every weekend since last August. But I'm not sure I'm going to beg to keep my job, either. I may mention I quit the, ahem, "real job" already. And then the restaurant can decide if they want to keep me around for a little while longer.
While I wouldn't entirely complain about still spending the rest of my summer pouring coffee and being (other than the owner) the only dude at my workplace, I'm not falling for any more of these sales gigs. Sure, this last stab at it was better than the previous two attempts I made—the environmental deal and a sad chapter involving selling vacuum cleaners a number of years back. Times were tough. They'll still be tough. But I'll survive.
In order to be successful in sales, you really have to enjoy what you're doing because you are, in essence, selling yourself. But I'm not really capable of doing any door-to-door thing for any amount of time longer than a period of a few days. And so when people seem as though they don't want to hear what I'm selling, I'm not epecially hurt or baffled by it. My demeanor probably makes it apparent that I'm not really all that interested in it either.
Tomorrow was to have been my last day being a waffle waiter, but because the chick making the schedule felt like giving me my entire last week off—mostly, I assume, because I had told her I had a new full-time employer—it turned out last Sunday was in fact my last. Unless, I am called in tomorrow—which I am not particularly relying on, nor expecting to honor, seeing as I will sleep through every single phone call that comes in prior to noon, Central Standard Time.
This summer is beginning to parallel last year's more than I'd like to admit.
On Wednesday, I once again—like last summer—simply decided I wasn't going anymore. And with my current cellular phone provider deciding to suspend my service, I knew I could not be confronted about my cowardly manner of resigning.
