cntd from previous post

But the best part was the Robotics Club Extra as I’ll call it. Think of your own religion or one adjacent to you. Now think of the holy centers where they study that scripture that defines their religion. Think of the men (it’s always the men) who study there, their smooth fingers that never touched anything rougher than paper (or to keep with our times, a keyboard), think of the bubble they live in, then you have this individual. At this point I was just in it for shits and giggles, because I wanted to find a way of earning some extra cash over the next few months. But I’ve had some of my best results when I do things just for shits and giggles or make one last, frantic attempt borne of anger and frustrations. Some of my most beautiful friendships came to be that way. So I asked what the deal was, and the answer was indeed worth the question. 

In essence, I sell their product. I contact the people to tell them of its wonders and tell them to buy it. So far so good, ‘tis after all why sales forces were created. But here comes the rub. Where do you sell it to? Schools. How does commission work? Blank stare. So how do I make money if I work for you? Cue extensive pitch of product. But how do I make money with this? I don’t know. Okay, but if I do this for you, I’d like to know about compensation, so . . .like . . .   where’s the money? You have to ask Ania. When she comes back. 

At this point the poor rep is clearly at the end of his tether, and since I’m in mischief mode and not gremlin mood, I graciously yield the chair to the bubble he so clearly needs after this interaction, which questioned everything he considered great about his product (that he maybe developed?). It just smacked of MLM scheme at best, and spyware at worst. I’m not one to jump onto the latest conspiracy theory, unless it is to dissect them and analyze them. But occasionally something jumps out at you about a person or a situation and your first thought is, foreign operative! We all know the country we immediately think of, because let’s face it, that’s what most of us GenXers were raised with (and some of those spy novels were damn good). Something about the concept and the presentation and – when I checked the people out on LinkedIn later – the way they suddenly transitioned from a very mundane job into this super intricate venture that demands a lot of attention to detail and IT knowledge borne of years of studying, starting from when you were eight or nine. 

Ania did come back, as I noticed on my final round. So I marched over there, because I really wanted to know how this (non-)MLM works. Quick aside, I did mention it sounded like an MLM to the male in his everlasting bubble, and he briefly nodded as if to confirm that this was. 

Now Ania is formidable. This was conveyed in her attitude and her look(s). This is not lazy typing, people. This is the real deal, that look within a look on top of the attitude. By then I was in mischief mode (not to be confused with gremlin mode, as my sister calls it for obvious reasons). Basically, Ania doesn’t like to be crossed, and she will let you have it if despite being warned by her mere presence you insist on disrupting her. She actually reminded me of that bully nurse who denied me service at the public health station in Toolo, saying I couldn’t see a doctor because I had already presented with that condition and it was nothing. And besides, we are in Finland, why don’t you speak Finnish and oh, I found her intimidating? “I’m tall, many people find me intimidating.” That nothing serious she diagnosed me with just based off a conversation, in which she didn’t ask for my symptoms was actually something that could have cost me my life very easily (and did cost the lives of many people). My complaints to the health station yielded nothing except a standard issue non-excuse excuse which was never followed up, despite my requests. 

But back to Ania, who clearly thinks she’s funny, a comedian in the making, and pity the fool who fails to recognize her greatness (and the fact she is extremely busy packing up and wants to leave). Mischief Me is like an annoying cat, who will block your path just as you’re about to leave. 

Ania is also not a salesperson. Because she doesn’t have to be. She knows the product’s greatness, and if you don’t, well that’s really on you. Your loss, she’ll live to see another day because nothing ventured, nothing gained. And what you do is really on you. The kind of person who will shame you if you find yourself at a disadvantageous position to them, even (or especially if) they were the ones who put you there in the first place. 

She gives off a laugh when I ask her if she’s Ania, the finance person. It’s not a friendly laugh, it’s one that lets you know your place, and that’s way below her. Clearly she doesn’t want to be bothered in wrapping up the day, though all they brought were two posters and tables and chairs were provided by the venue. Ironically a place I’d been to before leaving for my father’s country some years back, a place where I made a good friend then, who invited me to her summer cabin before that trip that resulted in a two-year stay. If it was going to happen here again, it wasn’t going to be with Ania. 

I’m 5”2 but I never feel short, because most of the time I see myself as being the same height as the person I’m interacting with. It’s like my brain is sending a message that automatically elevates me to the same height as my interlocutors. With Ania I felt it, the fact that I was shorter than her, and I’m pretty sure that this was due to something she was projecting, you are lower than me. An attitude she had towards everyone else, even if they decided to sponsor her venture. I’m totally blanking on the author (though I want to say Sidney Sheldon), but I remember reading a spy novel as a teen with the most coveted killer ever, who would only ever send his girlfriend into meetings to work out negotiations (and to make sure his identity was never revealed). The narrator’s first impression of said girlfriend was, good God, this grotesquely ugly woman is his girlfriend?! I always imagined the grotesque part as being her soul shining through every pore of her body, but especially her eyes. To no one’s surprise reading this, the killer was indeed that grotesquely ugly person. And if anyone here knows what I’m talking about, please put me out of my misery, because it is killing me. 

We engaged in the same song and dance with Ania as I’d just been through with her partner a few minutes prior. So what do I do exactly? You sell our product. So how do I make money? You don’t, we do. If I work for you, I’m not gonna do this for free, so what am I looking at? You earn a percentage. Ok, but how high of a percentage (at this point I’m just seeing how far I can take this, there is no way in hell I’d even consider working for them)? And it takes a lot of time. Ok, how much time? Three to nine months time. Ok, and what’s my cut? 5%. 

You see why I was saying this could so easily be a front for some sort of secret operation. No one is going to get in on that deal, and their table was always empty, with the least amount of stuff present. Guess you’re never really truly safe, not even at a very innocent job fair. And I was taking umbrage at their bullhorn and locking us in tactics the last time around.

One good thing did come out of those 45 minutes I was there. As I was leaving I saw a friendly face at the exit, and since I didn’t want the door I was opening to hit her in the back, I waited until she had changed positions. We got talking and there might actually be more to tell in the next few months. And if she is ok disclosing her name, I’ll be happy to include it here.