Getting the Job

It’s 1969 and I need a job. Just out of school and trying to figure out how to pay my own rent and do my own laundry. We landed a man on the moon, Senator Kennedy failed his swimming test as his picture earned a spot in dictionaries the world over alongside the word “coward”; Manson and his family slaughtered 5 people in the Hollywood Hills, Civil War zealots in Biafra were starving 3 million of their own people, Woodstock rocked 350,000 in a mud soaked American love fest, Ratso Rizzo went boffo in Midnight Cowboy, Nixon took over and February 11 marked an historic occasion for generations of boys as Jennifer Aniston sprung forth into the world. God Bless America!
In those days, it was the classifieds that led us to jobs. I can remember feeling pretty discouraged reading those ads as I quickly realized I had no marketable skills. I was an English Major who worked his way through school making money on menial summer jobs such as mixing cement, tarring roofs and cleaning cesspools. During semesters Harris Gordon taught me how to play cards for money to win and I could hustle guys when they pressed me on the pool table. I always wondered how Harris filled out those applications where they asked for last name first and how he had to explain to people: “no, it’s right this way, honest.” I ended up at one of those Employment Agencies in Plainfield. I had no idea how they worked. I just read it didn’t cost me any money, they find the job for me and I wouldn’t have to run around trying to beg for work.
So, I toss my black raincoat on over my best slacks, dress shirt and tie; spit-shine my shoes and head out the door. Up a set of creaking stairs, I felt like I was in a Hitchcock movie opening the door to find an older woman who properly asked if she could help. Looking over her manicured hair and chipped nails I could see a half dozen metal desks, chairs and dividers. I noticed no one was smoking. That was unusual. Pretty good, I thought. (Of course, I was token a pack of Marlboro’s a day at the time but I was happy to see I didn’t have to deal with the smoke.) Half an hour later, I finished the paperwork and they showed me to the last cubicle on the right. Some old guy in a white shirt and tie stood up immediately shaking my hand, motioned for me to “sit, please”. After a few questions he said, “let’s see what we have for you”…and he pulled his index card file toward his face explaining, “these are my job orders”. I held my breath as he theatrically and methodically fingered through the cards, occasionally pausing, always muttering under his breath before reluctantly moving on. I was gonna die right there if he didn’t offer me something. Finally he said, “now here’s something I think would be right up your alley, young man”. “It’s a sales position with AT&T”. “I don’t want to be a salesman, I said.” “I don’t want to sell stuff”. (I was a sophisticated kid, huh?) He stopped dead in his tracks, leaned back in his chair like I just said something bad about his sister … looked me straight in the eye and said…”don’t be silly, it’s AT&T…you don’t really have to sell anything…I mean, it’s AT&T…everybody gets their phones there… they just call it sales.” The only thing he forgot was to add the word idiot to his sentence. So, of course, admonished and nervous I said “great. I’d love to be a sales guy with AT&T and not really have to actually sell anything. Where do I sign?” After verbally smacking me around a little, it was off to the interview where this uptight guy asked me to sell his pencil to him. I did and got the job.
I got home a little late that night, walked in the door, tossed my jacket on the bed in my room and made my way to the kitchen table. My father, home from a tough day at the job looked up and grunted…which was always his way of saying hello. “Well, college boy…find yourself a job yet or will you be camping out on the couch some more?” I looked my Mom in the eye…she peered at me a little nervously over her steaming plate of macaroni. I could tell she was getting ready to defend me from the assault that was no doubt coming. “Yup, got a job today” “Hey, whaddya know?” Where?” “AT&T” “Whoa, a big shot, huh?” “How’d you get a job with them? That’s a good place to work.” “Snelling & Snelling” I said. “They told me about the job, sent me over there and showed me how to interview with the guy…and I got the job.” “Snelling and Snelling, huh?” Sounds like a pretty good outfit.” Yeah, a pretty good outfit, Dad.”
So, after 18 years, when I left AT&T, I looked at almost 30 different companies to buy. I chose a Snelling office. “A pretty good outfit.” And never looked back.
There are thousands of people just like me. People who Snelling helped give a leg up to in their career, in some form or other. It would be great to hear your story. Check out the Snelling Circle. Circle because sometimes it all comes around again…right back at ya.
By the way, if Jack Bauer happens to ask you for the SIM card from your cell phone…just give it to him, ok?