Dirt, grime and horny rhymes. That's what skanky crew boys are made of. Sugar, spice, and lots of cash orders...that's what crew girls are made of.
Girls and boys are treated very differently on crew. Boys are supposed to be tough, strong, fearless! They need discipline, rules and tough love!! Girls are delicate, lovely, and emotional. They need to be treated sweetly, and held to the highest standard of innocence.
You're probably feeling confused right now. What about all that other stuff you said before? The blinding contradictions of crew life are starting to catch up to you! Everything I said in previous posts about excuses and injuries is very real, and it applies regardless. Its just a smidge more harsh if you have a Y chromosome.
*Common Management Reactions*
Blank Drop:
Jack- What the fuck you worthless mother fucker?! GOD DAMNIT!! GET TO WORK!!!!!!
Jill- Come on sweetie, pull your shirt down a little more to show that cleavage and I bet you get five the next drop.
No Cash Orders:
Jack- What the fuck mother fucker? Did you fucking steal it? I know your ass has cash, piece of shit.
Jill- Pull your skirt up a little bit more and I bet he give you alll the cash he have. Shit, I bet he take you to the ATM and give you errrything.
Girls are special to crew because everything about them is a rare commodity. They shower every day, they dress cute, they smell nice and they always get cash orders. Its okay if Jill wants to pick up two cash orders real quick and take a nap. Its totally fine if Jill wants to pick up a cash order and then sunbathe in the park for the rest of the drop. If Jill only has three orders on the day, and they are all cash, you better believe shes treated like a princess. When I say treated like a princess, I mean shes thrown some shade for not having more on the day, but its less of a capitol crime as long as she smiles pretty and hands over the cash.
That is why Lisa, myself and the rest of the girls usually got away with everything.
****
Showing posts with label Jaguar Sales LLC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jaguar Sales LLC. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Damn, That Was Long
Im sorry, dear readers.
I know the posts from the actual days on crew are long as shit. A lot can happen in one day on crew. If its any consolation whatsoever, I write the posts on my Blackberry. No, not kidding.
xoxo
I know the posts from the actual days on crew are long as shit. A lot can happen in one day on crew. If its any consolation whatsoever, I write the posts on my Blackberry. No, not kidding.
xoxo
Vermont: Part 4
Two Best Friends
July 28, 2007
Crews only stay in an area for one week. On a very rare occasion they will stay for two weeks if the money is coming in. In seven days time, your crew will 'stomp' an area. Meaning that by Friday, everyone in town knows who you are and what you're selling. Rival companies usually have informants on your crew, and are sometimes one city ahead of you. So, by the time your crew gets the next city, everyone is on their toes and alert. Including law enforcement. This is part of the reason why everyone is closely monitored and why crews usually don't find out where they are going until the day before the hop.
Before we are sent out, we pack up the vans and trailer with our various belongings. We won't be coming back to the hotel when the day is done, we'll be hitting the road to New York! The day will wrap early so we can make good time. Naturally, I am so excited for this day to be over.
Despite my excitement, I trudge through the motions. Lagging, dragging, hating life. Its hotter than Satan's ball sack today. I'm not producing. I've almost cleared a pack of smokes by noon. This is not what I signed up for.
Third drop comes, and I'm with Lisa. Even though I've spited her for making me stay up late to memorize a spill I don't even use on the Jones, we have become fast friends. Carl gives us a stern warning not to knock together when we get out of the van. Innocently, we assure him weeee wooonnnn't!!(insert cute winking face from both of us) After the van disappears, we scurry off to a cul de sac and knock the whole street down. Unsuccessful, we take advantage of the very nice, luscious park across from the sac. Its liberating and terrifying at the same time. I'm ecstatic to have some down time with my new BFF but scared we'll get caught if Carl drives by. We lay in the grass and have girl talk. Lisa says that if we're on the ground, Carl probably won't see us if he drives by. Since she is my trainer, I believe her and relax.
We smoke a few cigarettes, talk about things not related to magazines and pretend for thirty minuets that we are just two young girls who are having a normal life. I almost forgot about the whole being trafficked across the country to line the pockets of mag lords thing. Almost.
Lisa forces herself off the ground and tells me we need to get to it. Eye roll. I am,you guessed it,not amused. She makes me a deal that if I pick up one, we can take a nap together on the next drop, no homo. A nap sounds most delicious right now. I accept her deal and make my way up the road.
When I said I'm 'not producing' I ment I only had three on the day. If you have learned anything thus far, you'll know that means I'm not producing. I must have hit ten or so houses until I got someone to answer the door. Lonely housewife, blech. I don't see this going anywhere, but I attempt to give it my all because I want a nap.
Spill.Chat.Check. Really? This was definitely not my best performance, I am genuinely shocked she decided to cut me a check. She began to tell me a story about how boys would always come to her house tying to get her to buy, and how she never gives in for strangers blah blah blah. I am seriously dehydrated and not interested in her story, but I figure the least I can do is pretend to pay attention. After she was finished, I then realized why she took a chance and provided myself and Management with all the information necessary to steal her identity and fuck up her life. I looked like someone she probably knew. I looked like a girl she might see at the gas station or super market. I looked like a normal, college age girl that she could trust. Not some filthy, degenerate, high school drop out scam artist.
I thank her, wish her a good day, and make my way to the corner. We're told a quarter to five is when we are to be on the corner. Its ten to five when I arrive. I make a wager with myself that we might be picked up at five thirty. Lisa has been waiting for ten whole minutes, and is very impressed when I produce my nap ticket. She did great and picked up two orders. It begins to rain. At this moment, I believe there is a God. After a whole sweaty day of hell, its nice to get a beautiful, ten minute shower.
Carl finally shows up, and I lose my wager. Five forty five is the winning time.
****
I feel like I need to address the elephant that has entered the room. In the last few paragraphs, have you stopped to say to yourself 'Hmmm, that sounds a little like.....um.....prostitution?' It sounds like prostitution because it is prostitution. Management ships in these kids from all over the country, brainwashes them, drops them on corners to sell a product, picks them up, and takes the money. Management pimps their crew out for their own gain. You're told over and over you're not selling magazines, you are selling your personality. You're selling yourself. Ergo:Prostitution. They profit from the repeat sale of your battered, bruised, and broken soul.
****
Lisa and I are so utterly satisfied we got away with our debauchery. We did bad enough for Carl to assume we held tight with our promise to not knock together. He gushes to the car about how he is so pleased we kept our word, and everyone else could learn a thing or two from us about honesty and independent selling. Now I'm amused. Carl goes on by amazing the car with his all knowing:all powerful Manager smarts by saying he knows there is absolutely no way we could have knocked together, because two pretty girls like us would have come back with at least five cash orders a piece. Where Management comes up with these obscene statistics, I'll never know.
Our reward for being so sneaky and getting our Tom Fooleries past Carl is being allowed to be together for the final drop in Vermont, no homo. Little does he know we are about to make like a fat kid in gym class and slack. Its six thirty, we have an hour and a half to get a bunch. We are warned again not to knock together and we remind Carl of our sweet innocence with our irresistible wink faces. We are certain we can get away with our slacking until Carl decides that Daniel is going to be dropped with us. You already know.
I. Am. Not. AMUSED.
Lisa and I quickly run off while Daniel is preoccupied smoking and talking to some local skank on the phone. We decide to knock for a little bit, so we don't feel totally guilty about taking a nap. We are breaking about seventeen crew rules right now, but its ok because its still my first week and as long as we get some cash orders, all is forgiven. Cash orders are the equivalent of twenty Hail Mary's.
As I mentioned before, knocking together can boost your numbers or put you in jail. Either outcome, this is high on the mile long list of things thou shalt not do while working on crew. Rhymes, I haz them. Thug Lyfe.
I'm tired. Lisa is cranky. We need a nap. After about ten houses, we come up on some older gentlemen playing poker. I am so not in the mood for creepy old men right now. Lisa says poker=cash order=redemption=nap time. Ugh. Ok,let's get this over with.
Pervy,drunk men playing poker. What do you think happened?
That's right. Spill.Chat.Cash. Lots of it. After we played along with their tasteless jokes and humored them with our made up life stories, they handed us a wad of cash and a bottle of water and sent us on our way.
This could go one of two ways. We split the cash, take a nap, blank the drop and have steak for dinner.
Or
Its time to fake some orders.
If we took the cash, we would be caught. Management knows exactly how much money you have every day. They know your eating and smoking habits. They know they gave you twenty dollars the night before and if you buy three packs of smokes instead of two AND eat lunch, you obviously have stolen money on your person.
The way the spill is taught, by the time you introduce the magazines, you should already have all of the Jones information written out on the receipt. You fold the receipt in half(so they can't see the order form part) and tell the Jones your manager might want to do a customer satisfaction survey. That's what you need their first/last name, street, city, state and zip code. Even if there was no sale, kids are walking around every day with hundreds of peoples basic information in their pad case.
Since Lisa and I were so very slick with these drunk old men, we already had all of the necessary information to send them magazines they had not signed up for, but ended up paying for with the two hundred dollars in cash they gave us. We managed to finagle the order forms so that two of them got an old man-esq subscription. With the left over money, we sent the other a subscription to Womens Wear Daily. We thought this was seau hil.ar.ious. Lisa and I were giggling like five year olds for a solid ten minuets.
We ended up with three kind-of fake orders and ten left over dollars. Lisa thought that since she had more than me on the day and week, that I could have two of the orders and she would take the other one and the ten dollars. She assured me its win-win because if I do good, that means she's doing good. Lisa also assures me that there is nothing wrong about what we did. They gave us their information, and the money. So what if we decided what subscription they were going to get? Lisa says people ask her to pick for them all the time. Seau what if we forged the signatures on the order form? They were drunk and that's probably what their signature would have looked like anyway. Its neau big deal,Lisa reinforces, neau big deal. Really.
Whatever is clever at this point, let's take a nap,bitch! No homo.
We find ourselves in a little park that is semi secluded with trees and such. I don't realize how tired I am until I'm falling asleep in the grass. I am dead tired. No wonder I'm a chain smoker, no wonder I drink my weight in caffeine every day! How the fuck else am I going to stay awake? This nap is glorious. The grass is the perfect length and thickness. The sun is low enough to not be in my face, but high enough to keep the mosquitoes at bay. Birds are singing to each other, there's a fresh, clean smell wafting through the air. I really couldn't be any more relaxed. And then Lisa's phone rings.
*buzzkill*
She spouts an expletive, and gets on her feet at the speed of lightning. Looking at her phone, she makes a stank face and lays back down. I thought we slept too long and Carl was looking for us. It was just Daniel trying to join our slacker party. My phone rings, guess who? Lisa tells me not to answer it, she does not want to be around him. I oblige, I'm too relaxed to deal with his no-order having ass.
Ok, so I acquired a little bit of a complex that day. I was beyond exhausted, malnourished, cranky, basically I was feeling every negative emotion to the ten thousandth power. I had just started to get the hang of this slamming nonsense, I had mostly cash orders on the day, and Lisa made me feel like we deserved a little slice of paradise. Birds of a feather and all that jazz.
The clock is running up on eight, we roll off the ground and trek back to the corner. Daniel seems to have found more luck with local skanks than he did picking up orders. As he bragged about this 'totally hot chick he almost slammed', Lisa cut him off and boasted to him about how her trainee (me) had dragged a three year crew vet on the day. That's right, Daniel blanked on the whole day. He was none pleased with this realization and sauntered off to pout. Complex:Increase. I was really quite pleased with myself.
Carl actually picked us up at a reasonable time,only fifteen minuets late! He is so very satisfied with our work. We are almost as satisfied because we think we got away with melarky. Almost.
Feeling the sharp stinging embarrassment of Carls insulting reminders of how horrible he did that day, Daniel decides to rat us out. Well, kind of. He says the onnlyyy reason we did so well is because we were probably knocking together. Carl tells him to stop being a jelis hater, if we knocked together we would have done better!! Durr!!!! Daniel goes back to sulking, Lisa and I giggle to each other.
Quality time with my new bestie, semi relaxing day, and not-so horrible production was a great way to end the week in Vermont. Oh, and then we went on The Hop. Not so great.
****
July 28, 2007
Crews only stay in an area for one week. On a very rare occasion they will stay for two weeks if the money is coming in. In seven days time, your crew will 'stomp' an area. Meaning that by Friday, everyone in town knows who you are and what you're selling. Rival companies usually have informants on your crew, and are sometimes one city ahead of you. So, by the time your crew gets the next city, everyone is on their toes and alert. Including law enforcement. This is part of the reason why everyone is closely monitored and why crews usually don't find out where they are going until the day before the hop.
Before we are sent out, we pack up the vans and trailer with our various belongings. We won't be coming back to the hotel when the day is done, we'll be hitting the road to New York! The day will wrap early so we can make good time. Naturally, I am so excited for this day to be over.
Despite my excitement, I trudge through the motions. Lagging, dragging, hating life. Its hotter than Satan's ball sack today. I'm not producing. I've almost cleared a pack of smokes by noon. This is not what I signed up for.
Third drop comes, and I'm with Lisa. Even though I've spited her for making me stay up late to memorize a spill I don't even use on the Jones, we have become fast friends. Carl gives us a stern warning not to knock together when we get out of the van. Innocently, we assure him weeee wooonnnn't!!(insert cute winking face from both of us) After the van disappears, we scurry off to a cul de sac and knock the whole street down. Unsuccessful, we take advantage of the very nice, luscious park across from the sac. Its liberating and terrifying at the same time. I'm ecstatic to have some down time with my new BFF but scared we'll get caught if Carl drives by. We lay in the grass and have girl talk. Lisa says that if we're on the ground, Carl probably won't see us if he drives by. Since she is my trainer, I believe her and relax.
We smoke a few cigarettes, talk about things not related to magazines and pretend for thirty minuets that we are just two young girls who are having a normal life. I almost forgot about the whole being trafficked across the country to line the pockets of mag lords thing. Almost.
Lisa forces herself off the ground and tells me we need to get to it. Eye roll. I am,you guessed it,not amused. She makes me a deal that if I pick up one, we can take a nap together on the next drop, no homo. A nap sounds most delicious right now. I accept her deal and make my way up the road.
When I said I'm 'not producing' I ment I only had three on the day. If you have learned anything thus far, you'll know that means I'm not producing. I must have hit ten or so houses until I got someone to answer the door. Lonely housewife, blech. I don't see this going anywhere, but I attempt to give it my all because I want a nap.
Spill.Chat.Check. Really? This was definitely not my best performance, I am genuinely shocked she decided to cut me a check. She began to tell me a story about how boys would always come to her house tying to get her to buy, and how she never gives in for strangers blah blah blah. I am seriously dehydrated and not interested in her story, but I figure the least I can do is pretend to pay attention. After she was finished, I then realized why she took a chance and provided myself and Management with all the information necessary to steal her identity and fuck up her life. I looked like someone she probably knew. I looked like a girl she might see at the gas station or super market. I looked like a normal, college age girl that she could trust. Not some filthy, degenerate, high school drop out scam artist.
I thank her, wish her a good day, and make my way to the corner. We're told a quarter to five is when we are to be on the corner. Its ten to five when I arrive. I make a wager with myself that we might be picked up at five thirty. Lisa has been waiting for ten whole minutes, and is very impressed when I produce my nap ticket. She did great and picked up two orders. It begins to rain. At this moment, I believe there is a God. After a whole sweaty day of hell, its nice to get a beautiful, ten minute shower.
Carl finally shows up, and I lose my wager. Five forty five is the winning time.
****
I feel like I need to address the elephant that has entered the room. In the last few paragraphs, have you stopped to say to yourself 'Hmmm, that sounds a little like.....um.....prostitution?' It sounds like prostitution because it is prostitution. Management ships in these kids from all over the country, brainwashes them, drops them on corners to sell a product, picks them up, and takes the money. Management pimps their crew out for their own gain. You're told over and over you're not selling magazines, you are selling your personality. You're selling yourself. Ergo:Prostitution. They profit from the repeat sale of your battered, bruised, and broken soul.
****
Lisa and I are so utterly satisfied we got away with our debauchery. We did bad enough for Carl to assume we held tight with our promise to not knock together. He gushes to the car about how he is so pleased we kept our word, and everyone else could learn a thing or two from us about honesty and independent selling. Now I'm amused. Carl goes on by amazing the car with his all knowing:all powerful Manager smarts by saying he knows there is absolutely no way we could have knocked together, because two pretty girls like us would have come back with at least five cash orders a piece. Where Management comes up with these obscene statistics, I'll never know.
Our reward for being so sneaky and getting our Tom Fooleries past Carl is being allowed to be together for the final drop in Vermont, no homo. Little does he know we are about to make like a fat kid in gym class and slack. Its six thirty, we have an hour and a half to get a bunch. We are warned again not to knock together and we remind Carl of our sweet innocence with our irresistible wink faces. We are certain we can get away with our slacking until Carl decides that Daniel is going to be dropped with us. You already know.
I. Am. Not. AMUSED.
Lisa and I quickly run off while Daniel is preoccupied smoking and talking to some local skank on the phone. We decide to knock for a little bit, so we don't feel totally guilty about taking a nap. We are breaking about seventeen crew rules right now, but its ok because its still my first week and as long as we get some cash orders, all is forgiven. Cash orders are the equivalent of twenty Hail Mary's.
As I mentioned before, knocking together can boost your numbers or put you in jail. Either outcome, this is high on the mile long list of things thou shalt not do while working on crew. Rhymes, I haz them. Thug Lyfe.
I'm tired. Lisa is cranky. We need a nap. After about ten houses, we come up on some older gentlemen playing poker. I am so not in the mood for creepy old men right now. Lisa says poker=cash order=redemption=nap time. Ugh. Ok,let's get this over with.
Pervy,drunk men playing poker. What do you think happened?
That's right. Spill.Chat.Cash. Lots of it. After we played along with their tasteless jokes and humored them with our made up life stories, they handed us a wad of cash and a bottle of water and sent us on our way.
This could go one of two ways. We split the cash, take a nap, blank the drop and have steak for dinner.
Or
Its time to fake some orders.
If we took the cash, we would be caught. Management knows exactly how much money you have every day. They know your eating and smoking habits. They know they gave you twenty dollars the night before and if you buy three packs of smokes instead of two AND eat lunch, you obviously have stolen money on your person.
The way the spill is taught, by the time you introduce the magazines, you should already have all of the Jones information written out on the receipt. You fold the receipt in half(so they can't see the order form part) and tell the Jones your manager might want to do a customer satisfaction survey. That's what you need their first/last name, street, city, state and zip code. Even if there was no sale, kids are walking around every day with hundreds of peoples basic information in their pad case.
Since Lisa and I were so very slick with these drunk old men, we already had all of the necessary information to send them magazines they had not signed up for, but ended up paying for with the two hundred dollars in cash they gave us. We managed to finagle the order forms so that two of them got an old man-esq subscription. With the left over money, we sent the other a subscription to Womens Wear Daily. We thought this was seau hil.ar.ious. Lisa and I were giggling like five year olds for a solid ten minuets.
We ended up with three kind-of fake orders and ten left over dollars. Lisa thought that since she had more than me on the day and week, that I could have two of the orders and she would take the other one and the ten dollars. She assured me its win-win because if I do good, that means she's doing good. Lisa also assures me that there is nothing wrong about what we did. They gave us their information, and the money. So what if we decided what subscription they were going to get? Lisa says people ask her to pick for them all the time. Seau what if we forged the signatures on the order form? They were drunk and that's probably what their signature would have looked like anyway. Its neau big deal,Lisa reinforces, neau big deal. Really.
Whatever is clever at this point, let's take a nap,bitch! No homo.
We find ourselves in a little park that is semi secluded with trees and such. I don't realize how tired I am until I'm falling asleep in the grass. I am dead tired. No wonder I'm a chain smoker, no wonder I drink my weight in caffeine every day! How the fuck else am I going to stay awake? This nap is glorious. The grass is the perfect length and thickness. The sun is low enough to not be in my face, but high enough to keep the mosquitoes at bay. Birds are singing to each other, there's a fresh, clean smell wafting through the air. I really couldn't be any more relaxed. And then Lisa's phone rings.
*buzzkill*
She spouts an expletive, and gets on her feet at the speed of lightning. Looking at her phone, she makes a stank face and lays back down. I thought we slept too long and Carl was looking for us. It was just Daniel trying to join our slacker party. My phone rings, guess who? Lisa tells me not to answer it, she does not want to be around him. I oblige, I'm too relaxed to deal with his no-order having ass.
Ok, so I acquired a little bit of a complex that day. I was beyond exhausted, malnourished, cranky, basically I was feeling every negative emotion to the ten thousandth power. I had just started to get the hang of this slamming nonsense, I had mostly cash orders on the day, and Lisa made me feel like we deserved a little slice of paradise. Birds of a feather and all that jazz.
The clock is running up on eight, we roll off the ground and trek back to the corner. Daniel seems to have found more luck with local skanks than he did picking up orders. As he bragged about this 'totally hot chick he almost slammed', Lisa cut him off and boasted to him about how her trainee (me) had dragged a three year crew vet on the day. That's right, Daniel blanked on the whole day. He was none pleased with this realization and sauntered off to pout. Complex:Increase. I was really quite pleased with myself.
Carl actually picked us up at a reasonable time,only fifteen minuets late! He is so very satisfied with our work. We are almost as satisfied because we think we got away with melarky. Almost.
Feeling the sharp stinging embarrassment of Carls insulting reminders of how horrible he did that day, Daniel decides to rat us out. Well, kind of. He says the onnlyyy reason we did so well is because we were probably knocking together. Carl tells him to stop being a jelis hater, if we knocked together we would have done better!! Durr!!!! Daniel goes back to sulking, Lisa and I giggle to each other.
Quality time with my new bestie, semi relaxing day, and not-so horrible production was a great way to end the week in Vermont. Oh, and then we went on The Hop. Not so great.
****
Saturday, July 3, 2010
When I Was An Agent...
Management loved that line.
"When I was an agent, I was pulling fifty cash orders a week, EVERY WEEK!"
"When I was an agent we weren't allowed to get picked up unless we had ten on the day"
"When I was an agent I was positive and happy all the damn time!!"
I could honestly go on forever. Management loved to remind us of what shitty agents we were by comparing our work to their successful hay days.
I'm sure we could all pull fifty orders a week, every week, if the internet still hadn't been invented and if the country wasn't on the verge of a recession. When did you knock doors, Manager? Twenty years ago! Gosh golly, people were still using pagers and rocking jerry curls back then.
Management never let us forget that we were never going to be anything other than amoebas-on ticks-on fleas because we weren't selling on the level they were when they were agents.
In case you haven't figured it out, anything short of shitting gold bricks was not even remotely impressive to management. Even if you shat a brick of solid gold, they would tell you to fuck off until you could shit a platinum one.
Why would you strive to be the best if "the best" isn't good enough?
****
"When I was an agent, I was pulling fifty cash orders a week, EVERY WEEK!"
"When I was an agent we weren't allowed to get picked up unless we had ten on the day"
"When I was an agent I was positive and happy all the damn time!!"
I could honestly go on forever. Management loved to remind us of what shitty agents we were by comparing our work to their successful hay days.
I'm sure we could all pull fifty orders a week, every week, if the internet still hadn't been invented and if the country wasn't on the verge of a recession. When did you knock doors, Manager? Twenty years ago! Gosh golly, people were still using pagers and rocking jerry curls back then.
Management never let us forget that we were never going to be anything other than amoebas-on ticks-on fleas because we weren't selling on the level they were when they were agents.
In case you haven't figured it out, anything short of shitting gold bricks was not even remotely impressive to management. Even if you shat a brick of solid gold, they would tell you to fuck off until you could shit a platinum one.
Why would you strive to be the best if "the best" isn't good enough?
****
Occupational Hazard
Occupational Safety and Health Administration, more commonly referred to as OSHA. Their mission is to prevent injuries and protect the health of America's workers by ensuring safe and healthful workplaces. Oh what fun they would have with mag crew!
Heat stroke, severe sunburn, infected insect bites, blisters on your feet the size of golf balls,complications from prolonged dehydration, mixed in with poor nutrition. Not something you would expect to deal with on a daily basis, or even a rare occasion. One would think there is an easy fix to these problems. Buy insect repellent, wear orthopedic shoes, get a reusable water bottle,use sunscreen, make better food choices. These are wonderful preventative measures, but they have one thing in common. They all cost money. If you had to choose between soothing a sunburn or eating,what would your choice be? If you had to make a decision to prevent your body from completely shutting down from lack of nutrients or wearing comfortable shoes, what would it be? And really, there is no such thing as a 'healthy' choice at a fast food joint.
Most of these kids don't even realize there is an option, seeing as everything that goes wrong is always one hundred percent their fault. They are told that these painful inconveniences are supposed to build character. You have blisters because you obviously don't know how to sweet talk the Jones into inviting you inside to sit down. You have a sunburn because you're spending too much time slacking and not enough time inside with the Jones. You passed out in the middle of the sidewalk because you don't know how to use the Jones to your advantage.
On the rare occasion management decides that your injuries are severe enough to seek the care of a licensed medical professional, you are allowed to go to the hospital. Only after you have completed a full, twelve hour day of work. Anyone who knows anything about hospital emergency rooms (and how they treat you once they realize you are destitute) can appreciate the stinging slap in the face of this situation. In the eyes of a crew kid, its almost better to just let your injuries fester. Pain and suffering versus time and money wasted.
Once management has deemed you invalid, a car handler will drive you to the ER when the day is done, and orders are checked in. Sometime around eleven thirty at night. Once you arrive, you have to fill out paper work and wait to be seen. This can take anywhere from thirty minuets to a couple of hours, putting the time roughly at one o'clock in the morning. Once you are seen, you are questioned about how you obtained these injuries. You then receive a lecture about how if you had taken the above mentioned preventative steps, this wouldn't have happened. Next, you are usually given a band aid or some extra strength Tylenol(with Codeine, yum!) and sent on your way. By this time its close to three o'clock in the morning. In order to get back to the hotel, you have to call a cab. Cabs, you guessed it, cost money! God forbid management give up some of their beauty sleep, or cut a random one night stand short to do you a favor. Those local girls aren't going to impregnate themselves, you know. The cab takes about fifteen to twenty minuets to pick you up and you spend about another fifteen to twenty in transit. This costs you close to sixty percent of your twenty dollar draw. Its now close to four o'clock in the morning. Fortunately for you, you get to sleep for a whopping three and a half hours before you have to wake up and spend another day pounding the pavement and irritating your injuries further.
Does that sound worth it? It almost isn't.
****
Heat stroke, severe sunburn, infected insect bites, blisters on your feet the size of golf balls,complications from prolonged dehydration, mixed in with poor nutrition. Not something you would expect to deal with on a daily basis, or even a rare occasion. One would think there is an easy fix to these problems. Buy insect repellent, wear orthopedic shoes, get a reusable water bottle,use sunscreen, make better food choices. These are wonderful preventative measures, but they have one thing in common. They all cost money. If you had to choose between soothing a sunburn or eating,what would your choice be? If you had to make a decision to prevent your body from completely shutting down from lack of nutrients or wearing comfortable shoes, what would it be? And really, there is no such thing as a 'healthy' choice at a fast food joint.
Most of these kids don't even realize there is an option, seeing as everything that goes wrong is always one hundred percent their fault. They are told that these painful inconveniences are supposed to build character. You have blisters because you obviously don't know how to sweet talk the Jones into inviting you inside to sit down. You have a sunburn because you're spending too much time slacking and not enough time inside with the Jones. You passed out in the middle of the sidewalk because you don't know how to use the Jones to your advantage.
On the rare occasion management decides that your injuries are severe enough to seek the care of a licensed medical professional, you are allowed to go to the hospital. Only after you have completed a full, twelve hour day of work. Anyone who knows anything about hospital emergency rooms (and how they treat you once they realize you are destitute) can appreciate the stinging slap in the face of this situation. In the eyes of a crew kid, its almost better to just let your injuries fester. Pain and suffering versus time and money wasted.
Once management has deemed you invalid, a car handler will drive you to the ER when the day is done, and orders are checked in. Sometime around eleven thirty at night. Once you arrive, you have to fill out paper work and wait to be seen. This can take anywhere from thirty minuets to a couple of hours, putting the time roughly at one o'clock in the morning. Once you are seen, you are questioned about how you obtained these injuries. You then receive a lecture about how if you had taken the above mentioned preventative steps, this wouldn't have happened. Next, you are usually given a band aid or some extra strength Tylenol(with Codeine, yum!) and sent on your way. By this time its close to three o'clock in the morning. In order to get back to the hotel, you have to call a cab. Cabs, you guessed it, cost money! God forbid management give up some of their beauty sleep, or cut a random one night stand short to do you a favor. Those local girls aren't going to impregnate themselves, you know. The cab takes about fifteen to twenty minuets to pick you up and you spend about another fifteen to twenty in transit. This costs you close to sixty percent of your twenty dollar draw. Its now close to four o'clock in the morning. Fortunately for you, you get to sleep for a whopping three and a half hours before you have to wake up and spend another day pounding the pavement and irritating your injuries further.
Does that sound worth it? It almost isn't.
****
Excuses, Excuses
According to the all powerful management team, the only plausible reason you aren't pulling 30+ orders a week is because you are a worthless piece of shit. This sentiment held true for some of the Grade A scum on crew, but for the rest of us, it was completely false.
About eighty percent of The Jones' are comprised of hard working, middle class, productive members of society. These people are at their nine to five, from (you guessed it) nine to five. Usually they are home by six, and eating dinner by seven. The other ten percent is made up of housewives, retirees(or people on a fixed income),broke college students, and smart people who don't answer the door to someone they aren't expecting or don't know.
These statistics in mind, how exactly do you think I'm going to sell you a magazine if you are at work for the first three drops of my day? What feasible outcome can manifest when I knock on your door while you are making/eating dinner? How on earth am I going to get my numbers up if you won't even come to the door? Walk in and write the check myself? Take the cash right out of your wallet? The pressure to perform is much more suffocating when there is no such thing as a variable in the equation to success.
Step 1- Knock Door
Step 2- ??
Step 3- Profit
You were out on T for ninety minuets and no one answered the door? That's not a reason to have blanked this drop you weak piece of shit!
The only Jones you talked to has a fixed income and an array of health problems that they need to use their fixed income on? You really should have slammed them for 5 orders, fucking dumbass.
You mean to tell me that the reason you only picked up one order this drop is because you were in police custody for eighty of ninety minutes? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, WORTHLESS MOTHER FUCKER? GOD DAMNIT GET TO WORK!!!!!!!
This is where kids become corrupt.
There is no such thing as an excuse. Kids become desperate to meet their quota, they shoot orders (tell your car handler you got one when you really didn't in hopes of making up the difference on the next drop),they literally scare people into buying, they are overly aggressive, they steal, they tell people to give them the sale right then and there and they can cancel it the next day. You're only as good as your last drop. Kids don't eat or smoke for days so they can fake orders with their own money. The average subscription price was about eighty dollars. If you're living off twenty dollars a day,and you give up eating and smoking, how long will it take for you to be able to fake your orders? Some of these tactics only have a short term effect, it works for that day, sometimes even that week. Come Sunday, you find out only half of your orders went through, due to cancellations.
So what's your motivation? I realize that by giving people a push to do better is a smart business move, but Management was most definitely giving the wrong execution of the right plan. By intimidating your workforce with the idea that N O T H I N G they produce is ever going to be good enough, you're taking away the positivity and drive required to be a productive sales person. You're breaking their spirit by badgering them for not producing when the situation was completely out of their control. You have successfully turned them into a mindless drone who's only purpose is to serve management.
I realize some kids slack off on drops, and use the aforementioned scenarios as a way to justify their lack of effort. Management treats everyone as if they are lazy pieces of shit. That makes it tough for anyone who was genuinely making a concerted effort to have a voice. Management automatically assumes that no matter what the reality of the situation was, you were sitting on your ass the entire drop if you hadn't picked up at least five orders.
Again, what is your motivation? You become so broken down the only thing you're really working for is to get your twenty dollar draw, and to keep the insults and humiliation to a minimum.
Super fun, right?
****
About eighty percent of The Jones' are comprised of hard working, middle class, productive members of society. These people are at their nine to five, from (you guessed it) nine to five. Usually they are home by six, and eating dinner by seven. The other ten percent is made up of housewives, retirees(or people on a fixed income),broke college students, and smart people who don't answer the door to someone they aren't expecting or don't know.
These statistics in mind, how exactly do you think I'm going to sell you a magazine if you are at work for the first three drops of my day? What feasible outcome can manifest when I knock on your door while you are making/eating dinner? How on earth am I going to get my numbers up if you won't even come to the door? Walk in and write the check myself? Take the cash right out of your wallet? The pressure to perform is much more suffocating when there is no such thing as a variable in the equation to success.
Step 1- Knock Door
Step 2- ??
Step 3- Profit
You were out on T for ninety minuets and no one answered the door? That's not a reason to have blanked this drop you weak piece of shit!
The only Jones you talked to has a fixed income and an array of health problems that they need to use their fixed income on? You really should have slammed them for 5 orders, fucking dumbass.
You mean to tell me that the reason you only picked up one order this drop is because you were in police custody for eighty of ninety minutes? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, WORTHLESS MOTHER FUCKER? GOD DAMNIT GET TO WORK!!!!!!!
This is where kids become corrupt.
There is no such thing as an excuse. Kids become desperate to meet their quota, they shoot orders (tell your car handler you got one when you really didn't in hopes of making up the difference on the next drop),they literally scare people into buying, they are overly aggressive, they steal, they tell people to give them the sale right then and there and they can cancel it the next day. You're only as good as your last drop. Kids don't eat or smoke for days so they can fake orders with their own money. The average subscription price was about eighty dollars. If you're living off twenty dollars a day,and you give up eating and smoking, how long will it take for you to be able to fake your orders? Some of these tactics only have a short term effect, it works for that day, sometimes even that week. Come Sunday, you find out only half of your orders went through, due to cancellations.
So what's your motivation? I realize that by giving people a push to do better is a smart business move, but Management was most definitely giving the wrong execution of the right plan. By intimidating your workforce with the idea that N O T H I N G they produce is ever going to be good enough, you're taking away the positivity and drive required to be a productive sales person. You're breaking their spirit by badgering them for not producing when the situation was completely out of their control. You have successfully turned them into a mindless drone who's only purpose is to serve management.
I realize some kids slack off on drops, and use the aforementioned scenarios as a way to justify their lack of effort. Management treats everyone as if they are lazy pieces of shit. That makes it tough for anyone who was genuinely making a concerted effort to have a voice. Management automatically assumes that no matter what the reality of the situation was, you were sitting on your ass the entire drop if you hadn't picked up at least five orders.
Again, what is your motivation? You become so broken down the only thing you're really working for is to get your twenty dollar draw, and to keep the insults and humiliation to a minimum.
Super fun, right?
****
Vermont: Part 3
Sexual Harassment Panda
July 27,2007
Anyone who has been on crew can tell you that women are a minority. Crews are mostly comprised of oversexualized boys 18-25. Anyone who's had a normal job can tell you about what is considered sexual harassment, and the consequences surrounding it. Apparently, none of my male counterparts on crew ever had a normal job.
When you're new, you are told no drinking, and no sex for the first two weeks. Just because you aren't allowed to fornicate for fourteen days doesn't mean the boys leave you alone about it until its 'ok'. Just about every day, the women on crew were subjected to hearing the boys say the most disgusting and depraved things about women walking down he street, women in the car next to us, and female Jones'. We weren't left out, as we were not excluded from hearing the same vomit inducing things about ourselves. The boys constantly solicited us for sexual favors, and reminded us of all the ways they could turn us into Audrey, and what is going to happen when those two weeks are up.
This day was like any other, woke up, got ready, had a meeting, and stopped at a gas station to get breakfast (for those who did not take advantage of the continental breakfast at the hotel). Alex, a new agent like myself, approaches me and strikes up a conversation. We have a good chat, as we do have a few things in common. He's a really shy guy and having a really hard time adjusting to crew life. He looks at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen and says "I just want to be your friend, I'm not going to try and have sex with you like the other guys". I almost empty my stomach. I realize there is a shortage of women on crew, but Jesus Christ! No wonder some of the boys weren't selling anything, they were too busy thinking of ways to get in our pants! They could start by getting better pick up lines. "I'd beat!" Really? I like sex as much as the next person, but no woman in her right mind would let any of these degenerates do anything remotely resembling sex to them.
I'm starting to get into the groove of crew life. Hardly any sleep, aching body, blistered feet, sweat drenched clothes,constantly exhausted, dehydrated and hungry. Sure we got to eat, but crappy fast food isn't the best if you're working twelve hours a day. I've never really been a breakfast person but I've taken fancy to at least two(or one big) cups of coffee and no less than five cigarettes to get my day started. I've also joined the pack-a-day club. Not something myself and my wallet are particularly proud of. Smoking is fucking expensive,especially when you have a twenty dollar budget in the northeast.
The day wraps up earlier than usual. We are told to get the evening routine done quickly so everyone has a chance to get packed. Packed? Why? We are leaving Vermont the next evening. To where? The great state of New York, Long Island to be specific. The old heads are overwhelmingly excited about the upcoming venture. The top agents get to go to the Hamptons to sell. Is this some kind of a joke? The Hamptons? Playground of the uber rich and super famous? THEE Hamptons? What about the rest of us? Don't worry, there's plenty of T for the rest of us.
Another long, exhausting day on the books.
****
July 27,2007
Anyone who has been on crew can tell you that women are a minority. Crews are mostly comprised of oversexualized boys 18-25. Anyone who's had a normal job can tell you about what is considered sexual harassment, and the consequences surrounding it. Apparently, none of my male counterparts on crew ever had a normal job.
When you're new, you are told no drinking, and no sex for the first two weeks. Just because you aren't allowed to fornicate for fourteen days doesn't mean the boys leave you alone about it until its 'ok'. Just about every day, the women on crew were subjected to hearing the boys say the most disgusting and depraved things about women walking down he street, women in the car next to us, and female Jones'. We weren't left out, as we were not excluded from hearing the same vomit inducing things about ourselves. The boys constantly solicited us for sexual favors, and reminded us of all the ways they could turn us into Audrey, and what is going to happen when those two weeks are up.
This day was like any other, woke up, got ready, had a meeting, and stopped at a gas station to get breakfast (for those who did not take advantage of the continental breakfast at the hotel). Alex, a new agent like myself, approaches me and strikes up a conversation. We have a good chat, as we do have a few things in common. He's a really shy guy and having a really hard time adjusting to crew life. He looks at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen and says "I just want to be your friend, I'm not going to try and have sex with you like the other guys". I almost empty my stomach. I realize there is a shortage of women on crew, but Jesus Christ! No wonder some of the boys weren't selling anything, they were too busy thinking of ways to get in our pants! They could start by getting better pick up lines. "I'd beat!" Really? I like sex as much as the next person, but no woman in her right mind would let any of these degenerates do anything remotely resembling sex to them.
I'm starting to get into the groove of crew life. Hardly any sleep, aching body, blistered feet, sweat drenched clothes,constantly exhausted, dehydrated and hungry. Sure we got to eat, but crappy fast food isn't the best if you're working twelve hours a day. I've never really been a breakfast person but I've taken fancy to at least two(or one big) cups of coffee and no less than five cigarettes to get my day started. I've also joined the pack-a-day club. Not something myself and my wallet are particularly proud of. Smoking is fucking expensive,especially when you have a twenty dollar budget in the northeast.
The day wraps up earlier than usual. We are told to get the evening routine done quickly so everyone has a chance to get packed. Packed? Why? We are leaving Vermont the next evening. To where? The great state of New York, Long Island to be specific. The old heads are overwhelmingly excited about the upcoming venture. The top agents get to go to the Hamptons to sell. Is this some kind of a joke? The Hamptons? Playground of the uber rich and super famous? THEE Hamptons? What about the rest of us? Don't worry, there's plenty of T for the rest of us.
Another long, exhausting day on the books.
****
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Vermont: Part 2
July 26, 2007
On My Own
I had a hard time sleeping, a mix of fear,and excitement. I was still nervous about this whole experience, but Vermont seemed pretty nice. I woke up and decided to skip breakfast and just have couple cups of coffee, and a few smokes. I got ready for the day, tried to pick out an outfit that was presentable, but with less fabric than the day before. We are supposed to start the day with a meeting, but the vans had been broken into overnight. I see this as a blessing, because as part of the meeting, the new people are supposed to recite the "spill" and I don't know it yet. I take this time to get to know some other members of the crew. Every day it becomes painfully obvious how much I stand out. These kids come from all over, some of them are just ridiculous!! The way they speak, dress, just an overall sketchy appearance, I sure as hell wouldn't by magazines from them. The first drop was with Lisa, I was under the impression that I would be shadowing her again for the day. We went to the first home, she eagerly chatted up the Jones, sold him on some nature subscriptions. We left, she handed me the order, pointed out where she thought I should go and told me to get a bunch! I am not amused. Im not ready to go out on my own am I? No way, I cant do this on my own yet!! Being a good agent and still wanting to make a good impression, I went on my way....I quickly discovered that selling magazines was a lot harder than Lisa made it look.
I was nervous, I knew what to say, I just didn’t know in what order...I’m jumbled, people look at me with sympathy, or annoyance what happened to this girl? Why is she doing this? I’m embarrassed. I spend the rest of the drop wandering around, looking at my clock, anxiety kicks back in I’m not good enough, I’m so bad at this, why don’t people want to buy from me? What am I doing wrong? This is my first day and I’m already beating myself up. I must stay positive....like the managers and car handlers tell you every second of every day...BE POSITIVE!! I find it almost impossible to be positive when Im about to die from dehydration. I feel ridiculous asking people for water, so I wander off T and stumble upon a medical office. I hesitate, what if someone asks questions? What if I get in trouble? These pestering anxieties quickly vanish as I see the water fountain right inside the door. I go in, drink to my hearts desire, use the restroom and hurry to get back to my T. I learned quickly that anytime a bathroom presents itself, you take advantage of it no matter where it is, because you never know when you'll be able to use one again.
I still have the one order Lisa got for me,but had no luck securing one on my own. Look at the clock, its almost time for us to meet up with the car handler. I go to the meeting place and announce that I was unsuccessful getting an order of my own. Lisa assures me this is no big deal, everyone has issues on their first time alone. Easy for her to say, seeing as she picked up 3 orders while I was gone.
We are picked up, Lisa is given praise! She is 'high in the car' at this point. She gets to sit up front and smoke. Again, I am jealous. After picking up the rest of the crew we are rewarded with getting to go to lunch! Normally we didn't get to eat lunch until after the second (or sometimes third) drop! Since the vans had been broken into, we had gotten a late start. I got my food and sat with Tony and Lisa. Since we were not allowed to talk to each other about what happened on the Drop, Lisa and Tony grilled me about where I came from. The only time we were ever allowed to talk about Drops is if we were talking about Jones' we had slammed. Interestingly enough, the most tell worthy stories came from people who had tried to talk some sense into us,or were just downright crazy. I tell them my life as it was supposed to be. Went to college, wasn't in an emotionally abusive relationship,had a great relationship with my family, ect. I thought if I said it out loud it might come true.
Carl kept a close ear on the crew at all times to make sure we weren't being negative and talking about things we shouldn't be talking about. If someone tried to talk about an encounter with a Jones, sometimes he wouldn't even have to harshly remind them to shut up about it unless there was a slam involved. The rest of the crew was so used to being muted they would jump on anyone suspected of speaking forbidden words. I find this unbelievably strange. If you had a hard time with a Jones, wouldn't it be a good idea to hash it out with the 'Old Heads'? Wouldn't it be good to get advice on what to do to avoid that situation in the future? I quickly learned that it doesn't matter what a lowly agent thinks, management does all your thinking for you.
We finish eating and are taken to the next drop. I'm dropped with Tony. The van pulls away and he leads me down a side street and offers me a smoke. Lisa had already told me that smoking in plain sight on T is a serious no-no. You never want the Jones' to see you. Worse yet, your car handler could drive by at any time and catch you in the act and assume you're slacking. Tony assures me everyone does this, and if we got caught I wouldn't get in trouble because I'm new. We smoke and chat, the neighborhood we are in is full of old Victorian houses. I catch an earful about how this is 'rip' and I can most certainly get a bunch over here.
We finish smoking and part ways. I walked a couple of blocks to evaluate my T. After 3 blocks of being unsuccessful, I wander off my assigned T and run into another agent named Bird. This young man wasn't a day over 19, claimed he was a war veteran, and was one of the most annoying people I've ever met in my entire life. I found him on the tail end of a conversation with a Jones, who was threatening to call the cops on him. He sees me and we take off together in the opposite direction. He eagerly asks me if I want to knock together. At first I am thoroughly disgusted that he is propositioning me for sex, then I realize he means knock doors together. While sometimes successful for both agents involved, this is a highly forbidden practice. You can intimidate the Jones by having two people show up, and increase your chances of getting the police called on you. If you're a good pair of agents, you can each slam the Jones' and call it a day. I decline his offer and go back to my T.
I come across a beautiful, red Victorian house with white shutters and a white picket fence. Typical, I know, but I thought I might have some luck with this house. I ring the bell and a nice older lady comes to the door. She hears my spill through her old style screen door, stops me halfway through, offers me some water, and comes outside. At this point I think I have the deal. She comes out, we sit on her swinging love seat, and asks me to hear her out. Oh god, I think. I've upset her, I've offended her, oh god! Shit!!
She looks me in the face and says, I can see so much sadness in you. I don't know what could have possibly made you come so far away from home to try and sell people magazines. You're such a pretty girl, so charismatic! You should be putting your skill into something productive!! I am almost in tears because she is so right. The tears are suppressed by the mounting fear of how late it was getting, the drop was almost over. Her house was facing the main road, what if Carl drove by and saw me 'slacking'? I hadn't picked up an order, and I've been with this Jones for over twenty minuets!!!! If you spend more than ten minutes with a Jones, you are expected to have slammed. We are constantly reminded "If you're talking to the Jones, don't talk for free!!"
I try and shake these racing thoughts out of my head so I can attempt to justify to this woman(and myself) why I'm here. I want to see the country! I want to meet new people! A line I soon become so familiar with. She pretends to accept my bullshit and I bid her good day.
I hastily get back to the meeting place. Tony has picked up one order, giving him 2 on the day. I have 'blanked' this drop, meaning I didn't get anything. Carl is gentle, but stern about how I should be using my looks to my advantage. There is no reason someone like me should be blank on drops. Lisa is also berated, she only picked up one order this drop. She is still high in the car, but she is told to pick it up, go to work! Set a better example!! She is also blamed for my shortcomings. Since I am her trainee, my actions(bad or good) are her actions. The last drop approaches, I am dropped in another apartment complex. This is done as a favor to me, so I can get a bunch before the end of the day.
As I'm dropped, I see Steves van is there as well. This is not uncommon. Both vans will drop multiple agents in a T to see who is 'the best'. Bird, Tony and myself are put here along with Lisa's sister, Sarah. Sarah has SIX orders on the day, and is obviously high in Steves car. We all split up, and time is of the essence. This is the shortest drop of the day. Its eight thirty and getting dark. Something about the humidity and searing hot temperature of Vermont has made the mosquitoes mutate to an unbelievably large size. I have WELTS on my legs from them biting me. As the sun goes down it only gets worse. Insect repellent would be a great investment. That day it was at least eighty degrees out with eighty seven percent humidity, so again, I am soaked through my clothing, dehydrated, exhausted, aching feet...miserable. I just need to pull it together and get through is drop....because guess what's next? MONEY:FOOD:SHOWER!!!!!!!!!
The first few houses I was unsuccessful. A mix of no one answering, no one who was interested, and a slew of the ever dreaded NO SOLICITING signs. I knock on the next one, and a man in his forties answers. I immediately get the creeper vibe from him. Initially, we are taught to spill from the porch, and if it goes well, ask to come inside. I didn't even have to ask, Creeper invited me right in with that super creep smile. I politely decline, since I really wasn't in the mood to get raped, but play on his hospitality for a BOTTLE of water. Accepting anything that isn't factory sealed from a stranger is,duh, dangerous. Especially when your a mildly attractive girl in her late teens knocking on the door of a pervy, lonely man at almost nine o'clock at night. He fetched the bottle, I finish my spill, he writes me a check. Really? That's it? You're just going to hand me a check. No resisting, no personal questions, just like that? I thank him and I'm on my way. As soon as I'm out of sight of Perv, I do a little victory dance. After a long, hard day of getting nothing, I was so very excited to get my own order.
I go to the next door, another creepy man answers. I can see over his shoulder that his house is full of scuba gear. Spill,chat,CASH. What? Really? I guess he really liked the scuba subscription I recommended to him, or he was just so hypnotized by my lady parts he couldn't say no to shelling out eighty dollars in cash for a magazine he was probably never going to get. Not that I was dressed like a hooker, I could just tell having a semi attractive young girl knock on his door wasn't an everyday occurrence. I thank him, did another dance, and headed back to the meeting place. Sarah is already there, she hadn't been as fortunate as I on this drop. She informs me that I 'dragged' her. Boo hoo, I think, you have six whole orders! If I had six orders I'd take this drop off!!
We were told to be back at the meeting place at nine thirty, its a quarter to ten and we are not picked up. This is another common practice. You'd better be where they tell you to be when they tell you to be there, but its perfectly fine for the car handlers to be ten,fifteen, even thirty minutes late to pick you up. Sometimes they are late waiting on other agents who had ignored the specified meeting times. Other times they are late because they are busy engaging in sexual activity with local girls. This time they were late because they were busy smoking weed,which was painfully apparent from the overwhelming stench in the van when it finally arrived,quarter past ten.
I am not amused in the least. Its ten o'clock at night. Its dark. There are at least two pervy old men less than two hundred feet away from where Sarah and I are waiting. Two young girls, miles away from home, left alone on a dark street in a strange town late at night. I keep this thought to myself.
Back at the hotel, we check our orders, get money, and wooooooohoooooooooooooooo get some food!! I notice I'm low on smokes...I've turned into a chain smoker. Damnit! I get two more packs. Just when I thought I was going to be able to relax after my shower, Lisa calls me to her room. This nonsense again? I was not using the spill she provided me the night before. Maybe that was my problem? Maybe if I had paid attention to the task at hand I would have done better that day. Wait...I thought the task was to sell as many magazines as humanly possible? She reminds me that I need to have this learned by the morning, or its both our asses.
Its nearly midnight by this time. Everyone is sequestered to their rooms. Let me correct that,* A* room. Its natural for romances to blossom on a co-ed crew who spends so much time together, as proven by our five month pregnant crew mate, Audrey. Audrey had been knocked up by a guy who was on another branch of the crew who was in a different city. Despite her condition, Audrey was expected to work in the same horrible conditions as the rest of us. Walking around for up to twelve hours a day, in the brutal heat, carrying a child. If you had at least five orders on the day, you were allowed to sleep in a room that was not your own. Obviously, Audrey was a great seller. My Russian roommate, Paula, had also managed to find love on crew, so she was sleeping with her beau, and Sarah was no doubt in Steves room. I had the room all to myself. I try and cram as much of the spill as possible. Its not working out, I'm too tired. I fall asleep thinking the same thoughts as the night before: Can I really do this? What have I gotten myself into?
****
On My Own
I had a hard time sleeping, a mix of fear,and excitement. I was still nervous about this whole experience, but Vermont seemed pretty nice. I woke up and decided to skip breakfast and just have couple cups of coffee, and a few smokes. I got ready for the day, tried to pick out an outfit that was presentable, but with less fabric than the day before. We are supposed to start the day with a meeting, but the vans had been broken into overnight. I see this as a blessing, because as part of the meeting, the new people are supposed to recite the "spill" and I don't know it yet. I take this time to get to know some other members of the crew. Every day it becomes painfully obvious how much I stand out. These kids come from all over, some of them are just ridiculous!! The way they speak, dress, just an overall sketchy appearance, I sure as hell wouldn't by magazines from them. The first drop was with Lisa, I was under the impression that I would be shadowing her again for the day. We went to the first home, she eagerly chatted up the Jones, sold him on some nature subscriptions. We left, she handed me the order, pointed out where she thought I should go and told me to get a bunch! I am not amused. Im not ready to go out on my own am I? No way, I cant do this on my own yet!! Being a good agent and still wanting to make a good impression, I went on my way....I quickly discovered that selling magazines was a lot harder than Lisa made it look.
I was nervous, I knew what to say, I just didn’t know in what order...I’m jumbled, people look at me with sympathy, or annoyance what happened to this girl? Why is she doing this? I’m embarrassed. I spend the rest of the drop wandering around, looking at my clock, anxiety kicks back in I’m not good enough, I’m so bad at this, why don’t people want to buy from me? What am I doing wrong? This is my first day and I’m already beating myself up. I must stay positive....like the managers and car handlers tell you every second of every day...BE POSITIVE!! I find it almost impossible to be positive when Im about to die from dehydration. I feel ridiculous asking people for water, so I wander off T and stumble upon a medical office. I hesitate, what if someone asks questions? What if I get in trouble? These pestering anxieties quickly vanish as I see the water fountain right inside the door. I go in, drink to my hearts desire, use the restroom and hurry to get back to my T. I learned quickly that anytime a bathroom presents itself, you take advantage of it no matter where it is, because you never know when you'll be able to use one again.
I still have the one order Lisa got for me,but had no luck securing one on my own. Look at the clock, its almost time for us to meet up with the car handler. I go to the meeting place and announce that I was unsuccessful getting an order of my own. Lisa assures me this is no big deal, everyone has issues on their first time alone. Easy for her to say, seeing as she picked up 3 orders while I was gone.
We are picked up, Lisa is given praise! She is 'high in the car' at this point. She gets to sit up front and smoke. Again, I am jealous. After picking up the rest of the crew we are rewarded with getting to go to lunch! Normally we didn't get to eat lunch until after the second (or sometimes third) drop! Since the vans had been broken into, we had gotten a late start. I got my food and sat with Tony and Lisa. Since we were not allowed to talk to each other about what happened on the Drop, Lisa and Tony grilled me about where I came from. The only time we were ever allowed to talk about Drops is if we were talking about Jones' we had slammed. Interestingly enough, the most tell worthy stories came from people who had tried to talk some sense into us,or were just downright crazy. I tell them my life as it was supposed to be. Went to college, wasn't in an emotionally abusive relationship,had a great relationship with my family, ect. I thought if I said it out loud it might come true.
Carl kept a close ear on the crew at all times to make sure we weren't being negative and talking about things we shouldn't be talking about. If someone tried to talk about an encounter with a Jones, sometimes he wouldn't even have to harshly remind them to shut up about it unless there was a slam involved. The rest of the crew was so used to being muted they would jump on anyone suspected of speaking forbidden words. I find this unbelievably strange. If you had a hard time with a Jones, wouldn't it be a good idea to hash it out with the 'Old Heads'? Wouldn't it be good to get advice on what to do to avoid that situation in the future? I quickly learned that it doesn't matter what a lowly agent thinks, management does all your thinking for you.
We finish eating and are taken to the next drop. I'm dropped with Tony. The van pulls away and he leads me down a side street and offers me a smoke. Lisa had already told me that smoking in plain sight on T is a serious no-no. You never want the Jones' to see you. Worse yet, your car handler could drive by at any time and catch you in the act and assume you're slacking. Tony assures me everyone does this, and if we got caught I wouldn't get in trouble because I'm new. We smoke and chat, the neighborhood we are in is full of old Victorian houses. I catch an earful about how this is 'rip' and I can most certainly get a bunch over here.
We finish smoking and part ways. I walked a couple of blocks to evaluate my T. After 3 blocks of being unsuccessful, I wander off my assigned T and run into another agent named Bird. This young man wasn't a day over 19, claimed he was a war veteran, and was one of the most annoying people I've ever met in my entire life. I found him on the tail end of a conversation with a Jones, who was threatening to call the cops on him. He sees me and we take off together in the opposite direction. He eagerly asks me if I want to knock together. At first I am thoroughly disgusted that he is propositioning me for sex, then I realize he means knock doors together. While sometimes successful for both agents involved, this is a highly forbidden practice. You can intimidate the Jones by having two people show up, and increase your chances of getting the police called on you. If you're a good pair of agents, you can each slam the Jones' and call it a day. I decline his offer and go back to my T.
I come across a beautiful, red Victorian house with white shutters and a white picket fence. Typical, I know, but I thought I might have some luck with this house. I ring the bell and a nice older lady comes to the door. She hears my spill through her old style screen door, stops me halfway through, offers me some water, and comes outside. At this point I think I have the deal. She comes out, we sit on her swinging love seat, and asks me to hear her out. Oh god, I think. I've upset her, I've offended her, oh god! Shit!!
She looks me in the face and says, I can see so much sadness in you. I don't know what could have possibly made you come so far away from home to try and sell people magazines. You're such a pretty girl, so charismatic! You should be putting your skill into something productive!! I am almost in tears because she is so right. The tears are suppressed by the mounting fear of how late it was getting, the drop was almost over. Her house was facing the main road, what if Carl drove by and saw me 'slacking'? I hadn't picked up an order, and I've been with this Jones for over twenty minuets!!!! If you spend more than ten minutes with a Jones, you are expected to have slammed. We are constantly reminded "If you're talking to the Jones, don't talk for free!!"
I try and shake these racing thoughts out of my head so I can attempt to justify to this woman(and myself) why I'm here. I want to see the country! I want to meet new people! A line I soon become so familiar with. She pretends to accept my bullshit and I bid her good day.
I hastily get back to the meeting place. Tony has picked up one order, giving him 2 on the day. I have 'blanked' this drop, meaning I didn't get anything. Carl is gentle, but stern about how I should be using my looks to my advantage. There is no reason someone like me should be blank on drops. Lisa is also berated, she only picked up one order this drop. She is still high in the car, but she is told to pick it up, go to work! Set a better example!! She is also blamed for my shortcomings. Since I am her trainee, my actions(bad or good) are her actions. The last drop approaches, I am dropped in another apartment complex. This is done as a favor to me, so I can get a bunch before the end of the day.
As I'm dropped, I see Steves van is there as well. This is not uncommon. Both vans will drop multiple agents in a T to see who is 'the best'. Bird, Tony and myself are put here along with Lisa's sister, Sarah. Sarah has SIX orders on the day, and is obviously high in Steves car. We all split up, and time is of the essence. This is the shortest drop of the day. Its eight thirty and getting dark. Something about the humidity and searing hot temperature of Vermont has made the mosquitoes mutate to an unbelievably large size. I have WELTS on my legs from them biting me. As the sun goes down it only gets worse. Insect repellent would be a great investment. That day it was at least eighty degrees out with eighty seven percent humidity, so again, I am soaked through my clothing, dehydrated, exhausted, aching feet...miserable. I just need to pull it together and get through is drop....because guess what's next? MONEY:FOOD:SHOWER!!!!!!!!!
The first few houses I was unsuccessful. A mix of no one answering, no one who was interested, and a slew of the ever dreaded NO SOLICITING signs. I knock on the next one, and a man in his forties answers. I immediately get the creeper vibe from him. Initially, we are taught to spill from the porch, and if it goes well, ask to come inside. I didn't even have to ask, Creeper invited me right in with that super creep smile. I politely decline, since I really wasn't in the mood to get raped, but play on his hospitality for a BOTTLE of water. Accepting anything that isn't factory sealed from a stranger is,duh, dangerous. Especially when your a mildly attractive girl in her late teens knocking on the door of a pervy, lonely man at almost nine o'clock at night. He fetched the bottle, I finish my spill, he writes me a check. Really? That's it? You're just going to hand me a check. No resisting, no personal questions, just like that? I thank him and I'm on my way. As soon as I'm out of sight of Perv, I do a little victory dance. After a long, hard day of getting nothing, I was so very excited to get my own order.
I go to the next door, another creepy man answers. I can see over his shoulder that his house is full of scuba gear. Spill,chat,CASH. What? Really? I guess he really liked the scuba subscription I recommended to him, or he was just so hypnotized by my lady parts he couldn't say no to shelling out eighty dollars in cash for a magazine he was probably never going to get. Not that I was dressed like a hooker, I could just tell having a semi attractive young girl knock on his door wasn't an everyday occurrence. I thank him, did another dance, and headed back to the meeting place. Sarah is already there, she hadn't been as fortunate as I on this drop. She informs me that I 'dragged' her. Boo hoo, I think, you have six whole orders! If I had six orders I'd take this drop off!!
We were told to be back at the meeting place at nine thirty, its a quarter to ten and we are not picked up. This is another common practice. You'd better be where they tell you to be when they tell you to be there, but its perfectly fine for the car handlers to be ten,fifteen, even thirty minutes late to pick you up. Sometimes they are late waiting on other agents who had ignored the specified meeting times. Other times they are late because they are busy engaging in sexual activity with local girls. This time they were late because they were busy smoking weed,which was painfully apparent from the overwhelming stench in the van when it finally arrived,quarter past ten.
I am not amused in the least. Its ten o'clock at night. Its dark. There are at least two pervy old men less than two hundred feet away from where Sarah and I are waiting. Two young girls, miles away from home, left alone on a dark street in a strange town late at night. I keep this thought to myself.
Back at the hotel, we check our orders, get money, and wooooooohoooooooooooooooo get some food!! I notice I'm low on smokes...I've turned into a chain smoker. Damnit! I get two more packs. Just when I thought I was going to be able to relax after my shower, Lisa calls me to her room. This nonsense again? I was not using the spill she provided me the night before. Maybe that was my problem? Maybe if I had paid attention to the task at hand I would have done better that day. Wait...I thought the task was to sell as many magazines as humanly possible? She reminds me that I need to have this learned by the morning, or its both our asses.
Its nearly midnight by this time. Everyone is sequestered to their rooms. Let me correct that,* A* room. Its natural for romances to blossom on a co-ed crew who spends so much time together, as proven by our five month pregnant crew mate, Audrey. Audrey had been knocked up by a guy who was on another branch of the crew who was in a different city. Despite her condition, Audrey was expected to work in the same horrible conditions as the rest of us. Walking around for up to twelve hours a day, in the brutal heat, carrying a child. If you had at least five orders on the day, you were allowed to sleep in a room that was not your own. Obviously, Audrey was a great seller. My Russian roommate, Paula, had also managed to find love on crew, so she was sleeping with her beau, and Sarah was no doubt in Steves room. I had the room all to myself. I try and cram as much of the spill as possible. Its not working out, I'm too tired. I fall asleep thinking the same thoughts as the night before: Can I really do this? What have I gotten myself into?
****
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Vermont: Part 1
Hey everyone, Im Christine and Im one of the contributing authors on this blog. I was on crew in late summer of 2007. My travels took me from the northeast to the midwest. Its important to me to share every detail of my journey so people can properly gauge what really happens on mag crew. Many of the stories ive read have all basically been the same "My life sucked, I wanted to make money, I went on crew, didnt make money, and then I left". Hopefully my series will give you all some depth perception and understanding. Names have been changed for the time being, at the very end of the story they will be released. The first part of my story involves my decision to go on crew, and the time I spent in Vermont. Hope you enjoy, leave comments/questions.
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July 23th, 2007
Decision Time
Its Monday, I’m online looking for a job again. "TRAVEL AND MAKE MONEY"-gawl this ad again? It sounds great but I don’t want to sell magazines. "Magazine kids" have always been depicted as problem kids who have messed up lives and just walk around scamming people for a living. Ha, no I did not want to be a part of this. Sitting outside smoking, I get another angry text from my loser boyfriend. No matter what I do, he’s always mad and complaining. I was feeling low and depressed as I usually do when he does this when it hit me: What if I just left? Just disappeared? What if....no! No freakin way I’m going to be a magazine kid. Well, let’s evaluate the situation at hand. Stay here, living at his friends’ parents’ house (thus giving him leverage to berate me day in and out), deal with the loser bf, stay jobless, and basically live a miserable existence. OR try out this magazine thing, how bad can it be? The ad says they pay for all your travel and if you don’t like it...they send you back. Another angry text from Loser and my mind is made up. I go inside, check the browser history, get the phone number, DELETE the browser history, and make the call.
I talk to a guy named Chris, explain my situation and he says he thinks I’m perfect for this job. He tells me there is a bus leaving from my city at 5:30; I’m going to meet the crew in Vermont! I live in the Midwest so I’m excited and scared, Vermont is a long bus ride....it’s a little after 12. He says get your things together and call me when you get to the bus station. My life is rapidly changing and I have to think fast. I go downstairs and take every 'essential' item I can think of, anything I can live without gets left. At the same time I’m thinking up a lie. What lie can I tell to Loser to make him take me to the bus station without a huge argument....hmm. Family emergency! This works perfect because I have been estranged from my family for quite some time and I can easily get off a guilt trip if he thinks they are reaching out to me. I call him and explain the situation, he agrees, but he can only take me during his lunch hour, which is at 3....hm. I go to smoke again, I have 2 left and zero dollars. I finish my smoke, finish packing, and raid the change jar. I successfully gather 7 dollars in quarters, enough for a new pack and something to drink.
Loser arrives, helps me carry my things upstairs. I make huge theatrics about my 'family emergency', he buys it. I say I need smokes, we then argue about where I found 7 dollars.. I get my smokes and drink, he talks to me about how I need to call him and text him and let him know what’s going on (since I’m using his cell phone that he pays for) and just goes on and on. I’m ignoring him and thinking of how nice it’s going to be to not see him for a while. I get to the bus station, give him a goodbye, and call Chris. Interesting point of this story...After that day, I haven’t seen Loser face to face for 2 years. I tell Chris I’m at the station; he says my ticket is there, and for me to call him when I get to Vermont. I have to wait almost 3 hours to get on this bus, looking at the itinerary I see it’s going to take a whopping 30 hours to get to Vermont. Great.
****
July 24, 2007
Vermont
Sitting on the bus thinking about how my life is about to change.
Not knowing what to expect...getting texts from Loser about twice an hour...it’s annoying.
I look at the itinerary and realize I’m going to be going right through New York City.....wow. It might not sound like it from what you have read already, but I’m not your typical mag kid recruit. I come from a pretty good family, I got good grades in high school, would have gone to college if Loser had not convinced me otherwise. I’ve been to a few places, but never any further east than where I was living at the time. This was a low point in my life, the relationship was in was toxic and it made me weak minded and easily manipulated, which I guess in retrospect...made me the perfect recruit.
I wake up from a nap and look out the window to see the Statue of Liberty and the NYC skyline. This is amazing to me. I’m starting to realize all the wonders the world holds, sounds silly, but there’s something about Lady Liberty that gives you strength and hope. After a treacherous ride into downtown Manhattan....I get off the bus, gather my things, and make my way up the stairs to have a smoke. I’m in awe. It’s just like the movies, people in a hurry to get wherever they are going, tourists, bad traffic...it’s insane. I get back on the bus and start the next part of the journey.
Driving through quaint towns in Connecticut, I wish so badly I had a normal life....lived in a nice house with a perfect lawn etc etc. How did this happen? How did I go from a college hopeful to being on a 30 hour bus ride to a strange town to sell magazines? When someone is suffocating you, any possible way to the surface seems like a great idea. I sleep some more, seems like forever... I wake up from a nap to see the sun setting on the mountains of Vermont. Truly a breathtaking scene. At this point I think...no matter what happens from now; I’ve seen some amazing things most people will never see in their lifetime.
Later that night.
I’m searching for the signs,the town the crew is in should be coming up soon, I ask the driver how far out we are, he says 15 minuets. I call Chris and he sounds like he’s at a party. He says he'll call someone to come pick me up.
We arrive at the bus station in a small town in Vermont. It’s not very well lit and I don’t see anyone waiting for me. There are 4 other people on this bus. I sit down at a bench under a light post; look for a smoke, damn, 2 left. The other passengers have met their parties and are off to family reunions or college. I’m the only one left. I’m starting to get scared. What if this was a scam? What if no one is coming? What am I going to do?
Finally a white 11 passenger van comes roaring into the parking lot. A short guy gets out of the van and says are you Christine? I’m Steve, come with me. He helps me with my things and I get into the van with him and a petite blond girl sitting in the front seat. She introduces herself and offers me a smoke…I stupidly decline, saying I just had one. We take off, driving down streets, making fast turns, and I feel slightly unsafe. I notice this is a college town, anxiety kicks in. This is where I should be; I should be in college, what if I run into someone I know here? What if they all laugh at me…..
We slow down and pick up what at first I thought were vagrants…but they turned out to be members of the crew. They were walking back to the hotel after getting dinner at the gas station, which horrified me, it’s nearly midnight and you’re just now having dinner? I hadn’t eaten anything the entire ride, mostly because I wasn’t hungry from being so nervous, and because I had about zero dollars.
Despite their scraggly appearance, they were very polite and carried my bags to my room while I went and met the manager, Carl. He is in charge of everything while the BOSS is in a different city with the other half of the crew. I am immediately intimidated. I wouldn’t meet the BOSS until the following week. After filling out paper work and getting the run down on a typical day, I’m left alone to shower (which I needed sooo bad) and settle in. The girl who greeted me at the bus station-Sarah- was a skinny blonde in tattered cut offs and a tank top. I thought hmm that’s not a great look if you’re trying to get people to buy magazines from you. Turns out she’s the top seller in the company. I shower and think to myself...I’m a long way from home, can I really do this? I blow dry my hair and hear a knock at the door, a guy, Daniel, is there to say hello and introduce himself. Mildly attractive, a little country, I listen to him and make small talk. After a long day and journey, I finally manage to fall asleep. Since I’m 'new' I get the bed to myself...for now.
****
July 25th,2007
Training Day
Waking up at 730am after sleeping for about 3 hours is not a great way to start the day.
Luckily the hotel we were staying in offered a continental breakfast, because I still have zero dollars. I find out the girl who will be training me is named Lisa-she happens to be Sarah’s sister, and one of the top sellers. She introduces me to the rest of the crew. There are about 20 crew members split up into 2 different vans. Steve drives one, and Carl drives the other . Knocking on doors brought me back to elementary school when we had to sell wrapping paper and candy for school fundraisers. It was always so depressing being told 'no I don’t want any' or 'no, I already bought some'. That kind of rejection cuts a little bit deeper when your entire livelihood depends on it.
The first house we went to was an elderly couple who Lisa easily seduced into buying subscriptions to children’s magazines. This is called 'slamming'. She also managed to get a bottle of water out of them-and some cookies.. She was quite the charmer.. We went next door, an attractive guy in his late 20's answered. They made small talk, she told him about the contest, he resists. They make more small talk, she talks to him about living in New York...he’s a firefighter in the Bronx...she brings up the contest again...he still resists...she tells him about the 'books'. You can donate a set of 6 books to a school or hospital for only 65$. He gives in!! He puts it on a credit card, which was astonishing to me how people can be so trusting, giving your credit card info to a complete stranger who just walked up to your door?
We leave, and the cycle continues- Lisa manages to pick up 2 more orders for a total of 4 on the drop. The van picks us up, we are praised! Good job! We pick up other agents, they didn’t do so well. They are berated...told to pick it up, get it together, go to work!! One of the agents says that no one was home, no one was answering. He is told to be quite, stop being negative, that’s why he’s not selling because he’s negative. This confuses me. I realize that being positive brings positive results...but how are you expected to sell anything if everyone is at their REAL jobs during the day? What is this man implying? Walk into the home and write the check yourself? I find this absurd, but I keep it to myself.
The next 'drop' is in a similar neighborhood but no one seems too interested in buying. We run into Daniel, the mildly attractive country guy who came to my room last night. He’s not having much luck either. We walk around this neighborhood appearing to be productive (you don’t want your car handler to catch you slacking!). At this point, it’s about 85 degrees with 70% humidity, my clothes are drenched in sweat, my feet hurt… if I were a child playing outside I would go home and wait until the sun went down a little to go back out and play. I can’t. I’m walking on a street that isn’t mine in a town I’ve never been to in a state about 1000 miles away from where I call home. This realization almost brings me to tears. I have to hide it and stay strong...I don’t want everyone thinking I’m a WAB.
We get picked up, the manager/car handler gives us a very hard time…I find this interesting. Get mountains of praise, but in the next breath be completely humiliated. Its past 2pm, I’m exhausted from the heat, and starving. We stop at a fast food restaurant, I pretend I’m not hungry. Even if I had money, I was too scared to eat anything.
We go on another drop, this time with an agent named Tony. He’s very nice, very funny, he’s doing ok so far-3 orders. We separate, Lisa picks up 2 more orders. The car handler is pleased. Our reward for doing so well is being dropped in a large apartment complex, or ‘rip’.. Apartments can be your worst enemy or best friend. If you have ever lived in an apartment complex, I’m sure you are aware of the strict NO SOLICITING policy. You can ‘get a bunch’ in a complex, or get arrested. Lisa, being the charming lady she was, managed to pick up only one order but somehow avoid the police.
The van comes for us, we are praised again! Lisa has sold the most today! She is allowed to sit in the front seat, and smoke a cigarette. I am jealous. I want a cigarette. I smoked my last one the night before, and asked my Russian roommate for one of hers this morning. Throughout the day, I have noticed all the agents have been asking everyone for something…money, a smoke, a shirt, some soap etc etc. I do not want to be this person. I wait patiently because I know I am not far away from getting MONEY. I’m sitting in the van exhausted. My feet are in so much pain, my entire body aches…I must stay awake and focused..
We get to the hotel, everyone piles out of the van. I want to shower, eat and sleep. To my dismay, I find out first everyone must check in their orders and collect their Draw(small sum of money collected at the end of the day meant to get you through the next 24 hrs) Its nearly 10pm, I finally get my draw, and FINALLY get something to eat. We all get in the van and go to the gas station where Steve had stopped to pick up the other crew members the previous night. I get smokes, a sandwich and a drink. I have eight dollars left. Im happy. That’s eight more dollars than I had this time the previous day.
Back at the hotel, I shower…ahhh!
My clothes are soaked in sweat, I didn’t know I had the capability to sweat so much.
I shower and scrub my feet, which some how managed to get filthy. Probably because I was wearing flip flops, I always wear flip flops. Lisa calls me into her room, she writes down the spill, I must memorize it by tomorrow morning. I am not pleased. Its nearly 11pm. I put on a happy face and go back to my room and memorize. What have I gotten myself into? Can I really do this? Yes I can, this is just the first day…it will get better…I hope.
How many little things do we take for granted? Doing laundry whenever you want, being able to leave work if you feel sick, go into the refrigerator and eat when you feel like it. I would compare being on crew to being an indentured servant. They pay for all your travel and hotel to come out there, and while you’re working...what they don’t tell you is that if you want to go home you better have sold some magazines to cover the cost of your return trip. They also don’t tell you that really it’s YOU who is paying for gas and hotel stays. Even if you have 40 orders on the week, pretty much all of that goes on your 'books’ or goes towards your 'bills'. And they give you what they think you need to survive on. They tell you when to eat, when to sleep, when to wake up, who you can and can’t talk to, what you can and can’t talk about....but they do it in such a sneaky way- you don’t realize your being controlled until it’s too late....
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