Selling my soul to the devil…

The price of my soul was $11 dollars per hour.

In the job hunt I have applied for anything and everything.  This was refined slightly after the temp job mail opening debacle and I thought I would apply for fundraising jobs this time.  So, you know the people that stand in the malls and try to force you to donate money to charities monthly?  Yup that’s it.  The application and interview process was great – really helpful and informative.  I thought, it might be hard to get sign ups but if I am working with a good group of people, it should be okay.   I left feeling positive and looking forward to learning my script for my assigned charity and getting started.

Now. I have to say at this point, I have always fundamentally disagreed with these people. I want to spend my day off enjoying my time shopping, not dodging these idiots that have an answer for every polite (or rude) excuse I give.  There is a section in my training manual on answers to these excuses/ legitimate reasons.  This said, I needed a job, and fast.

The training was ok.  A bit common sense, but whatever.  This is where the cracks started to appear.  The interviewer had told us at the group interview that we wouldn’t be working weekends and we filled in forms about our availability.  At the training, we were told it does include weekends and our hours available had not been communicated.  Not major dramas, but cracks nonetheless.

My shifts.  Instead of putting me at the mall an hour from me, I was put at the one two hours away.  They were great and changed this.  I was also able to swap a shift with a girl from training so it fitted better with boot camp.  My first day went well.  My supervisor was helpful and I was working with him and one of the girls I had met on training.  I felt okay about things as the people I was working with were not overkill on the selling and bugging people.  We were peaceful vultures!  This day went well.  I tried hard to sign people up, but no takers.

Shift two. This was a whole other story.  The girls I worked with were those hair flicking insincere vultures that harass you.  They flirted embarrassingly with the men, used phrases such as ‘will you be my friend?’ and ‘can we hang out?’ With strangers.  It was weird.  Their gushy and over enthusiastic style was cringeworthy and reminded how much I hate being on the other side.  I still tried hard to get people signed up and must have spoken to, or tried to speak to, hundreds of people.  My feet and body were aching from standing for hours.  On my break, a girl ventured from her beauty stall and tried to harass me into buying some moisturiser.  Trying to get away reminded me of the utter loathing I have for this process.  There has to be a better way to get money or sign people up surely?  Of the ppl that were signed up, 3 of 4 approached the stand and asked anyway, so none of the vulture tactics were deployed when it came to the sign up.

The dismissal.  At the end of my shift, the supervisor sat me down and said they had to let me go.  She said I had wasted the charities money working and gaining no sign ups.  Nice.  I explained that I was not intending to return after today anyway and thanked her for saving me the job of quitting.  I outlined my loathing for the harassment of innocent mall shoppers.  She disagreed that this is what was happening. I left.  

The one positive I can take from this is the chance to learn about one of Torontos favourite charities.  It is clear they do some amazing work and it is the city’s sweetheart charity.  It is a shame that my associations will always be tarred by this third party atrocity.  

I spent the day wanting to walk away and thinking just get through the day.  It goes to show with the different colleagues how different the approaches can be. My biggest regret is that I didn’t get to tell the stuck up cow to stick her job before getting sacked.

The End.

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