Assertive Marketing Wunderkind
Jun. 19th, 2011 10:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mistersandmanI don't work at the Inspector General anymore. I have needs, and not all of these needs can be sustained by the knowledge of a job well done and the satisfaction of bringing criminals to justice. Bruce Wayne is a millionaire, I'm a guy who still has visa fees to pay and gas tanks to fill. I can't bike everywhere! :(
After a 3 AM Craigslist binge I came away with a few prospects in Philadelphia and in Pittsburgh. One phone interview later, I became a part-time employee of CertaPro Painters, a national paint company that is locally family owned, which translates to: at one point in his life, my boss Leah bought a CertaPro franchise. Now CertaPro (the national company) constantly demands tribute like a bloated feudal lord. Customers of CertaPro get the worst of both worlds: the lack of resources and skill of a small company combined with the impersonal rushjobs of a national company.
I'm in marketing (assertive marketing, no less), but I actually have to know next to nothing about the company itself. My job is to go from door to door in Mt. Airy and other "nice" Philadelphia neighborhoods and schedule appointments for "free estimates." I get ten dollars for every scheduled appointment. Unfortunately, so far I've been really good at my job. I've had a lot of luck scheduling appointments and now Leah thinks I'm some kind of magic advertising machine. Nothing worse than a low-paying job with high expectations. I'm sure I'll survive.
I actually rather enjoy working for CertaPro. In a lot of ways, I'm being paid to take a long walk and talk to people. On weekends, everyone is usually in the mood for a chat, but after work on weekdays, you get more of the typical Philadelphia brotherly love: angry glares, baleful stares, and slammed doors.
Not as many characters as you would hope. There was one bifurcated house where I was rather hoping one of the residents would answer the door. One door had a poem dedicated to trees and a small rainbow in the corner. The other had an NRA sticker and a weird decal that made the window look like it was on fire with the word APOCALYPSE in fiery letters at the top. These neighbors probably get along well.
The most awesome person I met (who didn't contribute to my financial well-being) was a woman who was talking on the phone when I passed her. "I work at a club-I don't want to marry you, I just want to make a few bucks."
On Wednesday, I'm meeting with the Democratic Party of Montgomery County for a similar canvassing job. Knowing Montgomery County, these people will probably not be Democratic and working for them will not be a party. I'm okay with that. It's not like every job has to be fulfilling on a philosophical level, just as long as it is fiscally fulfilling. It's the story of my parents' generation!
What's the story of my generation?
This, probably.
After a 3 AM Craigslist binge I came away with a few prospects in Philadelphia and in Pittsburgh. One phone interview later, I became a part-time employee of CertaPro Painters, a national paint company that is locally family owned, which translates to: at one point in his life, my boss Leah bought a CertaPro franchise. Now CertaPro (the national company) constantly demands tribute like a bloated feudal lord. Customers of CertaPro get the worst of both worlds: the lack of resources and skill of a small company combined with the impersonal rushjobs of a national company.
I'm in marketing (assertive marketing, no less), but I actually have to know next to nothing about the company itself. My job is to go from door to door in Mt. Airy and other "nice" Philadelphia neighborhoods and schedule appointments for "free estimates." I get ten dollars for every scheduled appointment. Unfortunately, so far I've been really good at my job. I've had a lot of luck scheduling appointments and now Leah thinks I'm some kind of magic advertising machine. Nothing worse than a low-paying job with high expectations. I'm sure I'll survive.
I actually rather enjoy working for CertaPro. In a lot of ways, I'm being paid to take a long walk and talk to people. On weekends, everyone is usually in the mood for a chat, but after work on weekdays, you get more of the typical Philadelphia brotherly love: angry glares, baleful stares, and slammed doors.
Not as many characters as you would hope. There was one bifurcated house where I was rather hoping one of the residents would answer the door. One door had a poem dedicated to trees and a small rainbow in the corner. The other had an NRA sticker and a weird decal that made the window look like it was on fire with the word APOCALYPSE in fiery letters at the top. These neighbors probably get along well.
The most awesome person I met (who didn't contribute to my financial well-being) was a woman who was talking on the phone when I passed her. "I work at a club-I don't want to marry you, I just want to make a few bucks."
On Wednesday, I'm meeting with the Democratic Party of Montgomery County for a similar canvassing job. Knowing Montgomery County, these people will probably not be Democratic and working for them will not be a party. I'm okay with that. It's not like every job has to be fulfilling on a philosophical level, just as long as it is fiscally fulfilling. It's the story of my parents' generation!
What's the story of my generation?
This, probably.
