I got a knock on my door today. Not something out of the ordinary by any means. Except this person wasn’t from Austin. Or Texas. Or even the United States.
She (who’s name I can still not pronounce) was from Estonia. The country I thought they made up for the movie Encino Man. Seriously. Because that country did NOT exist when I took geography class in 7th grade.
And why was this poor girl knocking on doors in the heat of the Texas summer so far from home.
Southwestern Publishing. My old employer.
For those that don’t know or recall, Southwestern recruits college kids, gives them a week of sales school in Nashville, then sends them off to a sales territory, usually with no place to live (you knock on doors to find a place), and tells you to work Monday through Saturday (from about 7:30 AM until 9 or 10 PM), have sales meetings on Sunday, and oh by the way, you’re only going to get paid straight commission.
Yes, and somehow they get people crazy enough to think this is a GOOD idea to do for 12 weeks during their summer vacation.
I got suckered in. Twice. For two summers I worked 84 hours a week.
Thank goodness it’s not me anymore.
Estonia (as she shall be called) brought all those buried memories back. The heat. The exhaustion. The frustration. The sage brush that you swear you see roll by at 2 PM on a weekday when NOBODY ON THE PLANET is home!
Yeah. Been there. Done that.
DONE with that.
*Oh, and Kyra, who Dave put down at 7:30 tonight (usually her bedtime is after 9) is now awake and mad.
This is going to be a fun night.