No Shorts, Flip Flops, or Sunglasses
No Shorts, Flip Flops, or Sunglasses
About Pet Rocks
and Pop Rocks
Chances are you opened this book because you're a college-aged man or woman, a member of the tribe known as the Millennial or Pop Rock generation, and you need "a job." Maybe you just got the memo from Mom and Dad-members of the Baby Boom or Pet Rock generation-that's it's about time you got off the couch and earned some money of your own. Maybe you're planning a vacation or need to pay tuition or buy a car. Maybe you just want some pocket cash to be able to buy your own clothes and go out with your friends on weekends.
You need a job, but you opened this book because you want something more than just "a job." Sure, you could deliver pizzas, work on a landscape crew, run a register. But you sense there's something more out there than just swapping time and labor for a few bucks. You want to learn, be challenged, maybe make some serious money, have some fun, and-most important of all-shape your own destiny.
You may also sense that Mom and Dad would like to be able to tell friends and family that you're doing something more challenging than washing cars or flipping burgers.
If it sounds like I know what you're thinking, I probably do. For most of the past two decades, I've been teaching young people like you how to prepare, look for, find, and make the most of their first "real" jobs-the ones that don't require hair nets or rubber gloves. I've worked with thousands-the majority college students-teaching tactics and skills, from how to look their best to how to deal with rejection, the essentials that give them an edge when they're ready to go out and start their full-time careers.
If I know what you're thinking, it's because I used to think it myself. Like you, I showed up for an interview one day at a small suburban office of a company that "sells knives," looking for "a job." I was a college student in north-central Pennsylvania in need of a few weeks' work during my winter break.
I'd been a short-order cook in a scruffy, small-town bar, and I had a chance to be an operator on a skilift, except I didn't know how to ski. My dad was in law enforcement-a game warden-and he had lined up a spot for me as a security guard and dispatcher for the campus police. For winter break, I wanted to try something different, and the pay was better.
By the end of the interview I felt something in my life had clicked into place. Like thousands before and since, I was excited about the products-beautifully crafted, made in America, guaranteed-for-life cooking tools. Having worked in a bar kitchen struggling with dull, cheap knives with busted handles, I had a special appreciation for the balance and workmanship. As a hunter, I had grown up knowing how important a good knife is in the woods.
The enthusiasm of the interviewer, who was just a couple of years older than I, was infectious. And the kind of money some of the kids were making was unheard of in my circle. It sounded like a fun way to earn some cash selling a useful product I could feel proud to be associated with, and a way to meet a bunch of new people who were my age and doing the same thing.
On weekends, I wouldn't have to work the night shift with the campus police anymore, and I saw the opportunity to grow personally and professionally. When I graduated with my BS in business, what was I going to say in an interview if my only job experience was working as a dispatcher, short-order cook, or finishing dry wall?
What was I going to say in an interview?
"I can make a mean omelet." Or,
"I can patch that hole in your wall."
"Well, I can make a mean omelet." Or, "I can patch that hole in your wall."
CUTCO gave me something worth talking about-real business experience. I would be generating sales leads, making sales calls, conducting professional presentations, closing sales, learning ti