Life of a recruiter
03 February 2003, 01:14 PM
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My name is Max, I am twenty eight years old, and am addicted to Recruitment. Here is my story. I have been in the 'Happy
Place' Rehabilitation Clinic now for nine months, but have still not managed to rid myself of the sales cravings. I no longer have a computer (which was taken away with me awhile back after sending a span mail to every company in the world which clogged the national frame work), but I am still allowed my Nokia 8310e (with its calendar, GPRS and WAP services) for an hour a day.
Progress is slow but sure. I sit in my room and am now allowed to make 5 cold business development calls a day, Take an imaginary job specification and lie to 10 complete strangers about my delivery capabilities. I know that I am actually talking to the same doctor on the other end of the line, but he has learnt to get me 'in the zone', swear at me and make repetitive filthy jokes about Essex Slags so I feel at home. Once a week they even bring me some talcum powder to snort.
It all started five years ago when I was working for the yellow pages. I was a loose cannon, a bit of a maverick. Nobody had ever
liked me at school. I was ugly, a bit simple (according to my dad) and shy around girls up till I saw an advert in the local paper for
'*** Heads Wanted. Earn more money in a day than you could blow in a strip bar in a month". I had no morals what-so-ever and only three GCSE's so I was perfect for the job.
I got the job and quickly I shot through the ranks to Senior Sales Consultant. My team of three began to generate 'ear-bleeding' revenues and I personally developed the ability to verbally pound people into submission with a subtle blend of violent swearing, repetition, and heroic displays irrational arguing. I courted the sales beast passionately for months and eventually she fell for me. I was unstoppable. People used to watch in awe as I rang the bell after a deal and mimic ******** the air (at this point I was only guessing what real ******** was like, as I still hadn't ragged anyone by then).
My 'special powers' didn't diminish once the working day was over though. I would phone my mum in the evening and practice closing her every night until she stopped talking to me, while I would talk cashiers in supermarkets to only charge me for 10 Lambett & Butlers when I clearly was buying 20. The tide had also turned on the bird front as well. I was adored by all the women in the office...well by one of them as Sarah turned out to be a bloke (don't want to talk about that), and the secretaries who came and went always wanted to come out with me and spend my money in Slough - i was as pleased as a pig in its own sick.
Just when I was about to become as arrogant and unpleasant as Saddam himself (my hero), I received a call which was to
change my life for ever. It was an appalling headhunt call from a 'rec-to-rec' firm who had isolated the fact that I had two eyes and wasn't in prison and would be thus ideal to work in IT recruitment. I would have laughed in their face and set fire to my colleague in disgust if it wasn't for the golden phrase 'earn more than Jesus'. No sales professional can ever resist this under-hand but devastatingly attractive pitch. I was strung up like a kipper and before I could say 'three other outstanding offers', I found myself at the doors of Solid Gold IT, clutching my headset and **** biro. Within six minutes I had adapted to the job and was relieved that everyone around me was single, sexually depraved and had a mouth on them like a sewer. At lunch on the first day I was whisked out and forced to consume an entire bottle of vodka before sending me back to work. After awhile of this you find a comfortable haze at work makes the time go by faster. In addition I bought myself a inch-thick pin strip suit and 5 outrageous suit/tie combos which caused people on the street to cover their months and lower their eyes (I guess in astonishment of how good I looked).
Everything was going great. I managed to start sleeping with the receptionist (although three others were as well, she said I was second, if not first choice). I was earning #4000 a day and only spending three and my bosses loved me. I was a true sales legend and I even got my headset gold plated.
'Every good thing comes to an end' , I once heard, and although I never listened to anyone's advice this seemed to stick.
It was in February 2000 when C++ took a dive, my indestructible vertical wavered. At first the people in the office laughed it off and simply spent more time on the **** with their clients, but as the months progressed my monthly billing figures decreased to £300K. Suddenly, lying, and shouting wasn't working. I even tried threatening clients and candidates but they started to change their
numbers.
My billing record was landsliding and I didn't have a personality to fall back on. I was in trouble. My car was costing me £2000 a month, my house £200,000 a week and my slate at Rhinos had gone astronomical. I had to buy my suits from Next and buy a Corsa. My clients now wanted outrageous requests such as 'quality service' and 'strategic business partnerships'....what the fu*k were they??! I was out of my depth as was the rest of the office. People started to throw themselves out of windows and steal computers to work with them at home. Everyone was adding two noughts onto their monthly revenues and biting each other to get to the phone when it rang. Expensive Gucci ties were used to strangle each other and even more expensive phones were reduced to missiles when 'another PSL went for a burton'. It was horrible.
As a desperate last resort, the board decided that we needed management and long term goals but it was too late by then.
Most people had abandoned ship and were now working for Manpower, while the board quietly downloaded the database and disappeared in their TVR's into the night. It was then when I tried to eat my phone and then blackness......... I sometimes still think I will bill a billion pounds in a year.
We all need our targets. When I get out I am going to set up on my own (although I can't tell them that as they won't let me out). I wish my mum would call.
Place' Rehabilitation Clinic now for nine months, but have still not managed to rid myself of the sales cravings. I no longer have a computer (which was taken away with me awhile back after sending a span mail to every company in the world which clogged the national frame work), but I am still allowed my Nokia 8310e (with its calendar, GPRS and WAP services) for an hour a day.
Progress is slow but sure. I sit in my room and am now allowed to make 5 cold business development calls a day, Take an imaginary job specification and lie to 10 complete strangers about my delivery capabilities. I know that I am actually talking to the same doctor on the other end of the line, but he has learnt to get me 'in the zone', swear at me and make repetitive filthy jokes about Essex Slags so I feel at home. Once a week they even bring me some talcum powder to snort.
It all started five years ago when I was working for the yellow pages. I was a loose cannon, a bit of a maverick. Nobody had ever
liked me at school. I was ugly, a bit simple (according to my dad) and shy around girls up till I saw an advert in the local paper for
'*** Heads Wanted. Earn more money in a day than you could blow in a strip bar in a month". I had no morals what-so-ever and only three GCSE's so I was perfect for the job.
I got the job and quickly I shot through the ranks to Senior Sales Consultant. My team of three began to generate 'ear-bleeding' revenues and I personally developed the ability to verbally pound people into submission with a subtle blend of violent swearing, repetition, and heroic displays irrational arguing. I courted the sales beast passionately for months and eventually she fell for me. I was unstoppable. People used to watch in awe as I rang the bell after a deal and mimic ******** the air (at this point I was only guessing what real ******** was like, as I still hadn't ragged anyone by then).
My 'special powers' didn't diminish once the working day was over though. I would phone my mum in the evening and practice closing her every night until she stopped talking to me, while I would talk cashiers in supermarkets to only charge me for 10 Lambett & Butlers when I clearly was buying 20. The tide had also turned on the bird front as well. I was adored by all the women in the office...well by one of them as Sarah turned out to be a bloke (don't want to talk about that), and the secretaries who came and went always wanted to come out with me and spend my money in Slough - i was as pleased as a pig in its own sick.
Just when I was about to become as arrogant and unpleasant as Saddam himself (my hero), I received a call which was to
change my life for ever. It was an appalling headhunt call from a 'rec-to-rec' firm who had isolated the fact that I had two eyes and wasn't in prison and would be thus ideal to work in IT recruitment. I would have laughed in their face and set fire to my colleague in disgust if it wasn't for the golden phrase 'earn more than Jesus'. No sales professional can ever resist this under-hand but devastatingly attractive pitch. I was strung up like a kipper and before I could say 'three other outstanding offers', I found myself at the doors of Solid Gold IT, clutching my headset and **** biro. Within six minutes I had adapted to the job and was relieved that everyone around me was single, sexually depraved and had a mouth on them like a sewer. At lunch on the first day I was whisked out and forced to consume an entire bottle of vodka before sending me back to work. After awhile of this you find a comfortable haze at work makes the time go by faster. In addition I bought myself a inch-thick pin strip suit and 5 outrageous suit/tie combos which caused people on the street to cover their months and lower their eyes (I guess in astonishment of how good I looked).
Everything was going great. I managed to start sleeping with the receptionist (although three others were as well, she said I was second, if not first choice). I was earning #4000 a day and only spending three and my bosses loved me. I was a true sales legend and I even got my headset gold plated.
'Every good thing comes to an end' , I once heard, and although I never listened to anyone's advice this seemed to stick.
It was in February 2000 when C++ took a dive, my indestructible vertical wavered. At first the people in the office laughed it off and simply spent more time on the **** with their clients, but as the months progressed my monthly billing figures decreased to £300K. Suddenly, lying, and shouting wasn't working. I even tried threatening clients and candidates but they started to change their
numbers.
My billing record was landsliding and I didn't have a personality to fall back on. I was in trouble. My car was costing me £2000 a month, my house £200,000 a week and my slate at Rhinos had gone astronomical. I had to buy my suits from Next and buy a Corsa. My clients now wanted outrageous requests such as 'quality service' and 'strategic business partnerships'....what the fu*k were they??! I was out of my depth as was the rest of the office. People started to throw themselves out of windows and steal computers to work with them at home. Everyone was adding two noughts onto their monthly revenues and biting each other to get to the phone when it rang. Expensive Gucci ties were used to strangle each other and even more expensive phones were reduced to missiles when 'another PSL went for a burton'. It was horrible.
As a desperate last resort, the board decided that we needed management and long term goals but it was too late by then.
Most people had abandoned ship and were now working for Manpower, while the board quietly downloaded the database and disappeared in their TVR's into the night. It was then when I tried to eat my phone and then blackness......... I sometimes still think I will bill a billion pounds in a year.
We all need our targets. When I get out I am going to set up on my own (although I can't tell them that as they won't let me out). I wish my mum would call.
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