Another post from Ted the Henchman™:
If the first day at SPECTOR is any indication, this is going to end badly. The managing henchman didn't bother to show up. This left a fellow henchman, who wasn't wearing a name tag or indeed any sort of indication that he worked there other than the fact that he occasionally walked behind the counter, to attempt to run me through some of the required computerized tests, though not before he informed me that I was not full-time nor paid on commission, as Blofeld had told me. Disheartened at the news, I was still able to guess at two of the tests well enough to pass, but a third had too much proprietary company jargon that I wasn't able to eek by on guesses.
After that, I was supposed to watch a training video, but there wasn't actually one on the premises. Offered a choice of taking an indefinite break at a nearby restaurant until my fellow henchman could go get it or picking it up myself, I opted for the latter, since I wanted to escape from this dungeon of a place as soon as possible.
The video was one of your typical cheesy corporate training videos, featuring actual employees, which meant that the acting was about on the same level as porn. I kept expecting the participants to whip off their clothes and start going at it, but, sadly, this was not to be. Instead, they droned on about obnoxious selling techniques and company slogans that made me want to slap them.
The video was part of a packet of training materials meant to be run through with the supervising henchman guy, but since he didn't bother to show, it meant that, in essence, I was supposed to train myself. The sad thing is, I probably could do this and wind up with about the same training as I will likely end up with anyway. But my willingness to entertain whims like that was running low owing to the three or four hours of sleep I'd managed to get the night before.
The store itself is located in a depressing part of town, across from a church and a Thai food restaurant. I was told not to park in back, as there was a high car would get vandalized there. This means that this job could very well end up costing me money. And the inside of the store isn't much better than the surrounding neighborhood. The back office doesn't appear to have been cleaned since before the first Bush administration. There are Polaroids of inexplicably happy shoplifters stuck to the wall, just above the TV where I watched my training porn.
The advantage of working a shit job, however, is that it lights a fire under my ass to look for decent work, or at least work located in a less depressing area. It remains to be seen which will happen first: Will I get fed up, or will I find a better gig?
I suppose there's a third option: I could stick around in the hopes of starring in some training porn...
© 2003 Ted the Henchman.
If the first day at SPECTOR is any indication, this is going to end badly. The managing henchman didn't bother to show up. This left a fellow henchman, who wasn't wearing a name tag or indeed any sort of indication that he worked there other than the fact that he occasionally walked behind the counter, to attempt to run me through some of the required computerized tests, though not before he informed me that I was not full-time nor paid on commission, as Blofeld had told me. Disheartened at the news, I was still able to guess at two of the tests well enough to pass, but a third had too much proprietary company jargon that I wasn't able to eek by on guesses.
After that, I was supposed to watch a training video, but there wasn't actually one on the premises. Offered a choice of taking an indefinite break at a nearby restaurant until my fellow henchman could go get it or picking it up myself, I opted for the latter, since I wanted to escape from this dungeon of a place as soon as possible.
The video was one of your typical cheesy corporate training videos, featuring actual employees, which meant that the acting was about on the same level as porn. I kept expecting the participants to whip off their clothes and start going at it, but, sadly, this was not to be. Instead, they droned on about obnoxious selling techniques and company slogans that made me want to slap them.
The video was part of a packet of training materials meant to be run through with the supervising henchman guy, but since he didn't bother to show, it meant that, in essence, I was supposed to train myself. The sad thing is, I probably could do this and wind up with about the same training as I will likely end up with anyway. But my willingness to entertain whims like that was running low owing to the three or four hours of sleep I'd managed to get the night before.
The store itself is located in a depressing part of town, across from a church and a Thai food restaurant. I was told not to park in back, as there was a high car would get vandalized there. This means that this job could very well end up costing me money. And the inside of the store isn't much better than the surrounding neighborhood. The back office doesn't appear to have been cleaned since before the first Bush administration. There are Polaroids of inexplicably happy shoplifters stuck to the wall, just above the TV where I watched my training porn.
The advantage of working a shit job, however, is that it lights a fire under my ass to look for decent work, or at least work located in a less depressing area. It remains to be seen which will happen first: Will I get fed up, or will I find a better gig?
I suppose there's a third option: I could stick around in the hopes of starring in some training porn...
© 2003 Ted the Henchman.
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