I used to be a pimp. Kind of. I know right now you're asking yourself "Oh Jesus, how is she going to explain this one in a cute way and pull it together with a lesson she learned?" Bear with me.
Yes, I used to be a pimp. Well first I was an assistant, then I was promoted. I worked for one of the top local staffing agencies in the Cleve. Seven offices, 200 employees on staff, and thousands of temporary workers in our database. I used to like to say that everyone in Northeast Ohio had their profile in our computers at one point in our 20 year history. It was true too, because I used to look up old boyfriends and classmates, usually finding them.
The way it worked was the agency (we'll call it Temps X) would put out generic ads in the paper. Something to the tune of "
Must be fluent in Spanish and English, conversational, read, write. Position located in Bainbridge. Must be comfortable with MS Word and Excel. 20-24K to start on a permanent basis, depending on exp. Full Benefit Package! Great foot-in-the-door opportunity!" This is standard practice in the staffing industry. Generic ads are posted to sound like actual jobs (and at one time, usually were) with the aim to rope in applicants.
Ok, so great. Every Monday (after Sunday ads were printed), I would get an influx of calls. "What about that job in Bainbridge?" My training instructed me to bring these people in for our screening process with the idea that there was a job like this in store for them at the other end. Of course, that "job" stood at the other end of 3 hours of skills testing and paperwork and there was little to no guarantee that they would be awarded that position. Fine print, fine print.
At first, I really enjoyed my job. I got to find people jobs. The economy was struggling but not collapsing just yet. (We did get a lot of mortgage brokers, though.) There were still people hiring. I felt like maybe I was doing something good and earning good money on the side as well. It wasn't great money, but for a 23 year old it was ok. Recruiters and reps earned commission off of how many hours a temp worked- so the bigger the job (temp to perm), the higher the payout. It gets a little more complicated than that, but that's the gist.
My coworkers were great (kind of- more on that later) and a camaraderie was developed. We were rewarded with bonuses, trips to Put-In-Bay, contests with trips to the Bahamas, and a Christmas gala at the end of the year in which we rode to a ballroom in limos provided by the company. It was lavish and extravagant... and a big waste of money the company didn't really have. Sound familiar? And the best part was at the end of the day, I had drinking buddies to go out with. Of course, this only led to problems- something that often happens when you mix men, women, alcohol, and a sophomoric atmosphere. There was gossip everywhere (the Trainer who had a illegitimate kid with the president or who slept with who at last year's XMas party). It was High School II. It was unprofessional and crazy. It was sales.
And that was a problem. When you are selling something like refrigerators, you know the fridge will do its job and keep things cold. You know that if it breaks, you can send someone to fix it. You know that the delivery man will eventually get there and you know that it won't get sick or have babies or steal from you. You can't really say the same thing about people. And when it came to what I had to do, I was pretty much selling people. To say you needed a thick skin was an understatement.
When I first got to Temps X, I met two people right off the bat. The first was a coworker who I would have a total misguided fling with (misguided seems to be my word of the week) and the other was Alison. Rude, brash, loud. Think of other words like that and you've got where I'm going with this. On my very first day (a working interview, really) I heard her get into squabbles on the phone with temps, with her supervisor (The Dragon Lady), with other offices. I should have run from this (and if I had a time-traveling DeLorean, I would), but I was oddly interested in this position. It seemed challenging and adventurous. And, as it turns out, it was. If you could put your feelings for humanity in a lockbox and bury it somewhere far, far away.
Hiring people is easy. Firing people because their car won't start or telling someone they lacked "front desk appearance" (ie, cornrows) and therefore you would not hire them was not. Having to fetter out what someone's intentions were- were they taking this temp job to screw you later? Were they planning on starting a family and would therefore be needing maternity leave? If they didn't work those hours, you didn't get paid. You found yourself thinking that the whole world was out to screw you over. It was a very delicate dance to not violate practices set out by the Equal Employment Opportunities Commission or the Equal Rights Act or FMLA or a whole host of other Employment laws that no one there was really educated on, but you had to find out if this person was physically and mentally prepared to work all of the days you promised your client.
It didn't help that my GM, Alison's supervisor, and overall scary witch, The Dragon Lady, was a literal incarnation of the Devil. In her book, there were NO EXCUSES. If you were sick, you came to work. If you had a baby, better find someone to take it because you were coming to work. If you were in a car wreck, you were coming to work (there's a longer story to this too, but off point). Basically, "We need your arm to pick up the phone and your head so you can talk. Anything else is expendable." If your temp couldn't get to their job, it was your fault. Red sheet 'em (to be put on a somewhat illegal blacklist known as the "Do Not Use")! You would get yelled at later. And all the bonuses and contests and parties in the world were not worth feeling like you were two inches tall.
After my promotion to pimp, I got yelled at a lot. Maybe I had a Grinch-like moment where my hear grew back, maybe my conscience just resurfaced. All of a sudden I just felt bad for people- for our temps. Things were spiraling out of control. I was losing sleep at night. I couldn't handle firing people, I couldn't handle yelling at people on the phone. I told a coworker that I was making myself ill, that I didn't need the trouble. The Dragon Lady had pulled me into her office more than once. Then one morning, I got a call to meet her in the break room. And, a week after I turned 25, I was let go. The worst thing about it was, after months of yelling at me and stressing me out- she still made me feel like I did something wrong.
Of course, she wasn't done yet. Because when you piss of The Dragon Lady and betray Temps X, they go out for blood. She appealed my unemployment- basically making it impossible for me to collect any money at all and stating I was "Incompetent and unable to perform the duties necessary." AKA, I wasn't willing to sell my soul. Don't worry, I was a tough broad even back then. There was a strongly worded letter and a couple other things I may or may not have done that settled the score. Again, a story for a later date.
The relevance of the whole story is this: today I was informed that Temps X has closed my former office in addition to three they closed in December. The former staffing giant is now down to three offices. No one is hiring in the Rust Belt and more and more people need jobs. When you have more supply than demand, something's gotta give. There are a lot of good people who worked there, people I still like to call my friends. With a potential buyout to another agency in the works, these people will be screwed while the president and his family profit. It's what's going on everywhere right now- this one is just hitting closest to home.
So yeah. Not as exciting as a CNN news producer or a Mormon web designer who used to date celebs, but it provided me with quite the eye opening experience and life lessons I will take with me through life. Lessons like: treat others as you would want to be treated, look out for yourself first and others later, and don't trust anyone at work. Ever. Also, be thankful for what you have and maybe everything does happen for a reason. I love my job now and I'm not getting laid off. And I get to write this thing everyday!!
Do I miss my life as a pimp? Not in the least. Was it fun? While it lasted. Am I happier now? You bet.
Posts
