15/03/2016 – 08/03/2016 (I’ve written the dates here because this is written backwards – I’ll make a note of when I go to the past with some sort of cue. You’ll know. You better do.
Right here, just below this – is the 15/03/2016 – I told you I would let you know, not giving up on you yet kiddo.
So life gave me a pat on the back, fuck yeah Pleb, you’re making it! Woah bro! You got a job! 16K a year and some banging commission slapped on top of it. Oh boy oh boy, that new skateboard was already being set up – bags of chronic to the ceiling and high tier Gin – So on and so forth – magnificent. I felt accomplished, it wasn’t what I had in mind and little did I realise I was not in the right mind at all to be dealing with it, there was too much bastard chaos going on in my life to think straight – waking up at 6am to get home at 6pm/7pm riddled with misery and head filled with kettle boiled lava. How was I supposed to deal with anything?
What do I do man?
Business with the lady were going sideways and heartbreak was imminent – then I lost my job because even during the second week where I was ‘self medicating’ my way through the day to deal with the bullshit – I was still apparently, not doing well, or showing signs of ‘promise’. I warned the dicks that I was prone to go up and down – I guess I wasn’t trying hard enough or something really was not going well. I was certainly unwell, it must have been seeping through my pours, the stench of absolute internalised madness – Bottle the shit up and sell it to the masses.
The scheming bastards waited until I had handed in my contract after the two weeks were over to then use the legalities within the document to fire me (And they wait until the end of the working day) – Fuck me right?
So I wasn’t happy, left, punched a wall or two, and I got a ride back to a friends because of the fact that I was having somewhat of a breakdown, proper pussy, proper out of control – I really think it’s completely pathetic yet I’ve been there a whole bunch of times. (Smash doors, smash them good).
Then I broke up with my chick lady sugar who I had been living with for about six months – all this shit, went sideways, still not the right way up, so I got my shit together and within two days I was back home in London.
It’s up and down now – what do we do when we get home after almost four years of independence, with no job and a desperate desire for some ‘time out’. ‘Peace’. Does anyone actually honestly think it exists? Temporary solutions don’t count so don’t bother.
08/03/16 – The Job – The Past
I sang the opening lyrics to Eric Claptons hit ‘Layla’, in order to get a job. It was during the interview process, I didn’t just walk into a room and they turn to me and shout “SING MOTHERFUCKER” – I almost wish it did.
Lo and behold I actually go the job. The X factor has merged itself with professional values.
The job is almost something I wanted – Only almost. It pays me money. But by no stretch of the imagination is it something I had ever dreamed of doing in my life. It’s not your standard sales job.
I need to back up here a little. The company is a technological solutions business – but we don’t have the solution. We don’t have any solutions at all. I’ll break it down into the simplest of terms because trying to explain it properly would require me remembering what I have actually been doing for the past week and a half – which I can’t be bothered to do.
- A company somewhere somehow finds my company and asks them to get a campaign going.
- The ‘campaign’ is to get an appointment set up between the Director of the ‘Campaign’ and a key decision maker/influencer. The ‘Director’ I represented, is always selling software or technology solutions. Honestly some people have such unbelievably terrible careers. I don’t have one at all I know. Fuck off.
Let me make a point here – it’s not a traditional sales job – It’s a fucking weird job.
- It’s weird because I’m not selling anything – I just need to persuade people that an hour of their time – talking to my ‘Director’ is a good idea. Just a conversation and he will deal with the pitch. The sale.
- I don’t use my real name – I’m given a pseudonym and call as if I were an official representative of the company.
- Once I’ve managed to get past a ‘gatekeeper’ i.e. a fucking ‘dolly bird’ (this was actually in the training manual followed by a disclaimer – *we’re not trying to be sexist) I then need to obtain any and all info that is humanly possible to get hold of the Big Cheese.
- Upon beating the sub-boss I’m then moved on to the boss fight – And like any traditional RPG (Role playing Game – e.g. Final Fantasy) they usually have a final form.
- I make a small pitch to these fucking people who I hope wake up and fall down the stairs on a daily basis – Explaining what my ‘company’ does and what the software solution is – And where it can provide additional value.
- If all goes well – I can push them gently off the cliff I’ve carved out for them and land them in a meeting they most likely really don’t want anything to do with but think would be a good idea because it makes them seem like they’re doing something good for their company by wasting an hour being told about ERP software solution, Business Intelligence Software, Accounting, Binary wanking so your business can grow.
Once this is all done – I move on to the next call / email to chase up. It’s hardly mentally nourishing and believe me the adjustment to forty-two hour long working weeks has been making me semi-suicidal. Already. I’ve thought about quitting every day and running off to an unknown place just so I can accept defeat in solitude – Not to be reminded of how work shy I am.
I dream to do something a little more with my life, but dreams don’t pay the bills – they just make you ungrateful. Right?
My title – which is absurd – Is ‘Business Development Executive’. What executive in the first world earns only sixteen grand a year? It doesn’t quite add up – I was sold the position.
Wow, me! An executive! What beauty! What beauty? Beautiful money! Beauty! Huzzah!
The company is small – tiny in fact, though they were well established in London for a number of years; they decided to pack up shop and dodge unbelievable rental costs and get themselves down to sunny beautiful drugged up homeless bipolar Bournemouth. I’m beginning to hate this place. (Not work – I would probably hate any job I got eventually) …. (Maybe)
The Boss / Bosses are good guys – One is a stoic and interesting guy aged about thirty-four I believe. He is a great manager though has a terrible habit of taking too long to respond to comments. If he asks me a question and I respond thoughtfully, he stares through me, his cogs turning at a careful, precise pace that makes the space time fabric itself impatient.
The other is a man with a large personality – quite large. Eight years of sales work has warped this mans sense of self. Every word, sentence or expression is fuelled by a sale, eyebrows swaying left and right – open hand gestures, leaning back on his chair – imparting incredible wisdoms of gibberish. He laughs at everything he says in a seriously goofy ‘yaeheheya’ way and he rocks his head as he does it. Poor guy loses track of topic often, which I found great because at least I wasn’t the only one who had no idea of what was going on.
After days of sitting down being very distracted and frustrated with an info overload, I got down to shit, I got into it, making a hundred calls a day, blasting emails everywhere, getting a pipeline on the go. Literally doing the job and having little intervention from the managers. I always asked them for feedback or tips to which I did my best to get through in my work. The leads start coming in, I get closer and closer to dinging that bell and clocking in my first booking.
Back to the Present – don’t be afraid – 15/03/16 –
And well, you know what happens – I now sit in my family home, wondering what the absolute shitting fuck is the next move.
Until next time.