Occasionally, a new job complements and utilizes our skills and natural talents. This can lead to early onset of a side effect I call, “excitement we’re no longer underemployed, and can finally stop having all those recurring nightmares surrounding our high school reunion.” When you’re chronically underemployed, like I’ve been, finding a good job feels like a remarkable achievement. Like hitting a hole in one or making an omelet that isn’t horrifically burned on the bottom.
“I looked at my financial picture. It was a picture missing something. Money. I wasn’t making enough of it.”
In June of 2015, I answered an ad for sales/customer service with a travel agency. They paid hourly plus commission, and offered a decent benefits package after 30 days. I went in and interviewed with the hiring manager. After the interview, she gave me a tour of the office. Weirdly, everyone I met looked happy to be there. The place didn’t have that “low hum of depression and dreams being quietly shattered” look so common to people who work in cubicles. The vibe of the place was positive and happy, not horribly oppressive and quietly threatening. I wanted to work in a place like that, for ya know, a change of pace.
I got the call a few day later; the job was mine. My schedule was Monday through Friday, 8:30am to 5pm. There was no overtime or micromanagement. I could dress as I wished within reason, and the agency was closed for the weekends, I was starstruck. In love. Everything was perfect. Especially the informal dress code. I dress like a slob.
The agency brought me on slowly. The computer programs were complicated and hard to understand. My supervisor was incredibly patient, and sweet as could be. I never felt like I was set up to fail. I was encouraged to ask questions. Not a trait many companies embrace.
The chief reason I enjoyed working at the agency was they allowed me to be myself. They appreciated my sense of humor. They didn’t try to curtail it, wag fingers or give me looks if I wasn’t corporatebot version 2.0. I’ve worked for several companies that carefully weed out employees who are offbeat or refuse to snort the company pixie dust. It’s a real and disturbing trend in most corporations.
Alright, so the honeymoon phase was off and running. I liked all the people I met, and they liked me. I had fun at work, and looked forward to coming in each day. I made a point of being the model employee. I arrived early, asked for advice, praised my coworkers for their assistance, and excelled at my job. I did everything I could to make a good initial impression, and show the company I was loyal.
Now a little information about the agency. Their primary source of income came from selling the free trips time share companies give to lure people in to listening to their sleazy and obnoxious presentations. However, there were also travel packages, upgrades for free trips, and other products the company sold. I received a low hourly: $11.00 an hour low, but there were plenty of commissionable opportunities.
After three months of work bliss, something I’d never experienced before, I looked at my financial picture. It was a picture missing something. Money. I wasn’t making enough of it. My monthly budget was short a few hundred dollars each month. Working full-time, and not hitting your budget is disheartening. Normally my morale would have, as the French say, sucked ass. However, I loved the place, and didn’t want to leave. I carefully evaluated my choices.
I took a good look at my future with the travel agency. On the plus side, I was still learning, and there were more commissionable opportunities on the horizon. Also, I was working a golden schedule, enjoyed the work, liked my co-workers, loved the management team, and felt support from almost everyone there. (Except the receptionist- man what a bitch- don’t get me started)
There was only one con: I was making less than I owed every month, and well, that’s a big con. If you’re working 40 hours a week, and you owe more money at the end of the month than you make, that’s a problem. An unsustainable one. I didn’t have enough savings left to work under budget much longer. I had to make a decision quickly. Stay, and hope for the best or start looking for another job asap.
Just the thought of looking for work stressed me out. If you’re in the mood for feelings of despair, and really, who doesn’t enjoy the savory taste of hopelessness, I can’t think of a better way of getting there than combing through endless online job ads. I decided to ask someone who’d been there at least a year, if I could reasonably expect to earn a decent living at the agency.
The problem with finding that person was many of the employees were related in some way. Some by blood, some as in-laws. We all know that people working in offices love to gossip. I knew if I approached the wrong person, and gave them any hint I was unhappy or considering moving on, management would find out. My reputation was stellar, and I wanted to keep it that way.
After careful consideration, I settled on asking Rob, a guy who sat across from me. Rob wasn’t related to anyone there, and had been at the job for just over a year. He was honest, and an avid fan of smoking on breaks. I caught him by his car. He was smoking, and on a break. A situation I knew he was fond of. I told him my quandary, and he gave me his thoughts. “Yes, you can earn a living here, but there aren’t any raises on hourly, only on the percentage of your commission. However, you still have more work that you can make a lot of money from, and they really like you here. You’re a hard worker. You’ll be fine.” Rob then put out his lit cigarette on my arm, and went back to work. (Sorry, that didn’t happen, but this is a two part story, and I thought I’d build a little drama before the end of part one. My bad)
With Rob’s advice in mind, I made a decision that would change everything. I put my lot in with the agency. In order to financially survive until I made enough, I withdrew a substantial amount of money from my 401k. How many people do you know that want to stay at a job so badly, they’d take out a chunk of their retirement money in order to do so? That number I hear coming back is zero.
So what happened next? Did my gambit pay off? Did the agency earn my trust? Would me and that nasty, miserable, vicious, rotten, horrible receptionist fall in love? Did I regret taking out money from my 401k? Did Rob start vaping instead of smoking cigarettes? Part two of the story will answer all of these questions and less.