OMGJeremy

Reader Submission Corner: A Course On How Not To Do Things

Submitted by Slava

“Hello, I would like to show you our product, Cutco. Cutco has been around since 1949 and we sell Cutco knives on an appointment basis to cut out the middleman. All our knives are manufactured in Olean, New York. In fact we are the only cutlery company that still manufactures knives right here in the United States. The knife itself is made from high quality 440A High Carbon Surgical Stainless Steel, which will stay sharp longer and wont rust. Our knives have a full tang and are made with nickel-silver rivets. The handle is made out of thermo-resin, which is dishwasher safe.”

This is how its all starts out. A small paragraph that’s said in a friendly manner to the unsuspecting customer to sell shit that I never wanted to sell. I’ve said it way too many times. I never once meant a word of it either. I couldn’t care less if the cutlery could stay sharp longer or was dishwasher safe. It was just something I had to say to get you to buy something from me, in hopes that I would make money. It was also the worst job I’ve ever had. Today, I would like to tell you a story about a “little” company called Vector and how I spent four of the suckiest months of my life there. I’ve divided what you do at “Vector Marketing Corporation” into a few sections to explain my experience with working with them. Hopefully by doing this, anyone who may read this will steer clear of the shit I had to go through. Trust me when I say that there is no easy way to make money. Especially what Vector offers. But for those of you dumb enough to fall for their claims, like myself, at least you’ll know exactly what you’re getting into.

THE INTERVIEW/TRAINING:

Being a College student desperate for anything I can use for monetary value, I’m usually always looking for ways to get money. So a few months back, I received a little flyer in the mail saying that I could earn 16 dollars an hour, plus commission. 16 bucks an hour? Hell I think I could handle that. Whatever “that” was, I wasn’t for sure, since the flyer seemed to forget to mention that part. The flyer didn’t explain anything other than the fact that I can earn lots of money, and a phone number. My first thoughts were that this was most likely another gay porn company you’d see advertising around, and 16 dollars an hour to get your junk pushed in some other guy’s anus seemed like a really crappy wage. But I figured I’d give it a try anyway, since, barring any sort of homosexual activity, 16 dollars an hour would be nice to have. I finally gave them a call and was immediately assigned an interview time right away. The receptionist kept avoiding my question about what I will have to do and kept telling me that this is a “great business” that has been around for years. I decided that I would go, but being a paranoid pussy that was in no mood to get his fudge packed, I grabbed an exacto-knife and set my phone’s auto dial to “911.”

I arrived at a pretty nondescript business building, which I thought I had actually gone to the wrong location, since nobody seemed to know why I was there. After a few moments of randomly walking around and awkwardly asking people where the hell I’m supposed to go, it was explained to me that I would need to fill out some form and wait in the main room. Finally, after using a bit of persistence on my part, I was told what Vector does, and that was selling knives. I was relieved somewhat, but it might as well been gay porn though, for I was about to embark on a four month journey of screwing people up the ass, and getting thoroughly (mind)fucked.

After my paperwork was filled out, we waited until someone came and took us into a small room where we were to get a demonstration of what we were to be doing. That little paragraph I wrote at the beginning of this article, all 50 words of it, was stretched into an hour-long demonstration by one of the managers. About 55 minutes more than was needed to get the idea across. After the droning presentation ended, we were told to wait until we were called for by the manager. Finally, after what seemed like an awfully long time, the manager called me into his office to go over my hiring. He made me feel special because he said to me, “This is a very hard job to get into! Now you know we cant just accept anyone, but you seem to be the kind of person that we’re looking for, so you’re hired.” He waited for me to show some emotion, which I did not because showing emotions is a woman thing and definitely not for a manly-man such as myself. He stared at me, hinted that I should show excitement, and then finally asked me if I was excited, to which I replied with a simple lie involving the word “yes.” He shook my hand and asked me my name. This is when I started to have doubts again. Shouldn’t he have known my name if he was about to hire me? I told it to him anyway, he smiled, most likely forgetting it within a few seconds later, and handed me a piece of paper that told me when I needed to come for training. The training it seems was gonna be for three days, six hours each day, and I was supposed to wear a suit and tie to it. Goddamn. I had originally only planned to wear a suit for my funeral. Now not only was this training going to be annoying and time consuming, but also uncomfortable as fuck.

The next three days simply sucked, it was extremely hot and the training place did not seem to have working fans or air conditioning, plus I was wearing a damn suit; it was basically like being in an oven. The paragraph (the first one of this article) was now being stretched out into a 18 hour lecture, during which they kept repeating that this is a great job and opportunity, and that it’s very easy. In fact they made you believe that was so easy that when you show people the knives there is a 95% chance that they would have sex with you on the spot and then pay double of what is asked. But most of all this was just a brainwashing session for us to think that maybe we were much more important than we really were. It didn’t seem to have the desired effect though, as my training group started off with 20 people, and on the third day about 5 of us showed up, including me. I guess the others realized how full of shit all of this was, but not me. No, I was there for the big money. I could endure 18 hours of slow roasting for 16 dollars an hour.

Then the big bullshit started coming at me. First I was told that the pay wasn’t 16 dollars an hour, but 16 dollars per appointment. What does that mean? It means that I was about to become a door-to-door salesman. I was basically gonna do the job that Homer did for a while on the Simpsons. I could almost see myself knocking on a random door saying, “Say hello to Cutco,” and giving a knife blade-first to some old hemophiliac who would cut his hand on the blade and bleed all over me for the next several hours. I was then assured that we do not sell knives door-to-door. No, the difference is that we make appointments first. Great, not only would I be a door to door salesman, but also be a telemarketer. The two most hated jobs on Earth. Oh, and just so I’d know, before I could start, I would have to buy a demo kit for 200 dollars. By now, I was ready to leave right then and there, but they told me that this kit was actually a “700 dollar value” so being the idiot that I am I stayed.

Finally they decided to tell us the prices, and that’s when I literally shit a brick. A “basic” set of knives was 800+ dollars, whereas the most expensive set was 2500. TWENTY FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS for a set of KNIVES.

"I'm happy to know that I now own a set of knives that is worth more than my entire country"

Before I screamed out that this is a huge rip-off, they showed us a competitor’s prices. The competitor is called “Hankels” and they’re supposed to be the best knives out there. Their basic set of knives cost $1100 (This I later learned was bullshit, just like most of the other things they told, Hankles does not have and never has had an 18 knife set for $1100, in fact the actual price is about half of that). Finally, after what seemed like at least 11 months, and losing at least 12 pounds due to sweating, the brainwashing training was over. I was evidently finally ready to meet the team. I was also told at that point that I am not an an actual employee, but an “independent contractor.” So legally I do not “work” for Vector. How nice. WAY TO MAKE ME FEEL LIKE ONE OF THE TEAM.

Managers, Stroking, Zombies, and Demos:

The office I was at had five managers, each of which only differed in looks. Their personality was as though they had a hive-mind, and were getting the same signals sent into their brains. Each of them did and said exactly the same thing, their voices even sounded the same. You could see in their eyes that they only hungered for money. The concern which they showed for me was actually just for the money they would make off of me.

The other “employees” could be classified into two groups:

Group 1: The Zombies
All they did was smile and talk about how great Cutco is. Never did I hear any two of them talking to each other about sports or movies like normal everyday humans might. No, it was always about the knives. For all I know half the girls working there lost their virginity to a Cutco knife.

Group 2: The Getmethefuckoutofheres
That’s the group I was in. There weren’t very many of us, but we stuck out like a sore thumb. We’d all be hidden in our own corner, trying not to catch whatever retarded brain disease those other freaks had.

BACK, EVIL UNDEAD CREATURES. I HAVE NO MARKETING TIPS FOR YOU

The $200 kits that we bought had 6 knives, a spoon and a pair of scissors. We were to use them when we gave demonstrations to people. The demos included repeating that fucking paragraph at the top to the buyer, which has since lost all meaning to me because of how many times I’ve repeated it, carefully showing off the knives themselves, and occasionally cutting things to show the customer that these were some really sharp motherfucking knives. This included cutting pennies with scissors, which was the only part I liked.

Afterwards you’d cut rope and leather and then try to make the people buy your shit.

Now let me explain how the whole selling process works. First, since you know absolutely no one that would actually buy this shit, you show the knives to your family who then, out of pity, buy a 15 dollar vegetable peeler which then becomes 30 dollars because of all the taxes, shipping, and insurance bullshit. Then your family makes a list of names for you to call and schedule appointments with next. Afterwards you bother your family’s close friends who probably will hate your parents for giving out their phone number to you. Then you give the demo to them, and when they least expect it, you try to cram a mouthful of Cutco cock down their throat, because that’s what they told us to do at training. Here’s how the final phase of a demo to a husband and wife might go:

Me: This is our largest set and it costs $2500.
Them: $2500, wow that’s a lot we bought our knife at a 99 cent store and we’ve been using it for years.
Me: Well we do have “investment options.” (Note: Investment options are just a sneaky way of calling a “payment plan where you break it up into parts and pay a month at a time)
Them: It’s too expensive.
Me: Ok, well here’s our smaller set, it costs $850.
Them: That’s still a lot of money; I think we might just want one knife.
Me: Well we have “investment options” for this one also.
Them (now getting fed up): We said “no.”
Me: The next set is a bit smaller…
Them: WE JUST WANT ONE KNIFE.
*I pull out one of the knives grab the wife and put it under her throat*
Me: NOW LISTEN HERE, FUCKERS. YOU’RE GONNA BUY THE $2500 SET OR YOU’RE GONNA WAKE UP NEXT TO YOUR DEAD FAMILY.

Here we see me successfully selling knives to another happy customer.

After all that is done, and you have yet again most likely failed to sell anything, you have to call the office and check in. It doesn’t matter if you do or don’t, since the managers will still call you anyway and ask you how you’re doing. Then, fifteen minutes after the first manager calls the next one will call and ask you the same set of questions. Repeat this 3 more times, twice a day.

The managers seem to have also been given a course on psychology because they use a technique called “stroking” where they try to make you feel appreciated. And how might they do that you ask? Why by adding big scientific words like “you rock” to everything they say. Because we all know that college students feel better about themselves if they are told how much they rock all the time. Most telephone conversations with a manager usually go like this:

Me: Hello?
Manager: Hey man, it’s manager A from Vector, so how are you rocking today? You been getting a lot of sales?
Me: Not really, I haven’t sold anything but I have three more appointments today
Manager: Oh really, hey that rocks, you rock man, what’s your schedule for the week?
*I tell him my schedule*
Manager: You rock, man that’s an awesome schedule, keep on rocking and see you at the team meeting.

—– 15 minutes pass and my phone rings —–

Me: Hello?
Manager: Hey man, its manager B from Vector, so how are you rocking today? You been getting a lot of sales?

You get the picture.

Meetings, Quitting, and the Rest

Every Wednesday night we had a team meeting, where the managers basically fed us a bunch more bullshit about the knives and told everyone how much you sold that week. The meeting was mandatory, but as they said, it was the only day you were supposed to show up for “work.” Except that wasn’t true. Every week we were also told that we had to have a phone jam, money jam, workshop, early morning workshop, secret meeting, and a conference call from the district manager. I’m not going to bother explaining what the some of this stuff is, because most of the time I didn’t show up. Notice how there’s seven days in a week and seven different things that were meetings in disguise. So basically they wanted us to show up at the office every day, and sent you angry phone calls if you didn’t show up, which amazingly didn’t involve the words “you rock.”

I learned to hate the phone. Every time it rang it felt like somebody was jamming a hot poker in my ear. Sometimes I would just unplug all the phones because of nonstop phone calls from the office. This finally drove me to not attending a Wednesday team meeting. I called in and told them I was sick, and everything seemed ok. That is until I didn’t get my paycheck that Monday, which was definitely not ok. So I went in and talked to a manager who said that they were suspending my pay until I start showing up to mandatory meetings which they had said several times before weren’t mandatory. This is were I basically screamed “FUCK YOU, I QUIT” into his face and left, hoping that that was the last I heard from them. Boy, was I wrong.

I MUST AWAY

The phone calls started coming again, and by the end of the first day I had around 20 messages, each wondering where I was, and if I was ok. Nobody seemed to care that I quit. Evidently the zombies at the office have a hard time understanding what happens when someone says “I quit.” It usually means they are tired of your shit, and will never show up again. But to them, it must mean, “I am going home for the day. See you tomorrow!” Finally two weeks later the phone calls subsided, and I was no longer on the verge of breaking out the razor and filling up the bathtub. I guess they finally got the point, though I can imagine them still to this day asking where I am at every meeting. The funny thing is, to this day the company still lists me as being part of Vector on their website.

The nightmare is finally over for me, but every day new suckers are being trained to sell some outrageously expensive knives to some unsuspecting victim. Also the company seems to be getting sneakier. A few days ago I saw a Vector recruiting ad on a blackboard in a classroom. The ad was very ambiguous but offered 16 dollars an hour, and had a link to www.workforstudents.com, which turns out to be more Vector crap. So avoid the words “Cutco” and “Vector” if you ever see them. You’ll be better off deep-frying frozen pieces of potato by-product at your nearest McDonalds.