The KoolScape Illusion
The Day I Walked Into a Scam
I thought I was walking into a software sales job. I was wrong. As someone with an extensive background in IT, tech support, and sales, I figured this would be a perfect opportunity to continue my career growth.
My suit was nicely pressed, lint free, and tailored just right. I was ready to knock this interview out of the park. After a brief thirty five minute commute I arrived at the scene. I expected a large office building with multiple floors, a pretty receptionist who would address me as “Mr. Shuffler”, and maybe a complimentary bottle of water big enough for one sip. A true alpha among reps chasing validation. I pictured myself as the man of the hour, until I saw the parking situation.
“Plenty of parking” they said. That was the first lie. There was no parking, and the only available space was to parallel park next to a couple of junk vehicles on the side of a trash-lined highway. The car in front of me was mismatched, rusted, and rimless while the car behind me was a normal vehicle from twenty years ago.
I was still hopeful. Maybe I would be the reason this small business evolved into a multinational corporation. With my perfected sales skills I would show everyone the beauty of the software they had to offer. Future success, here I come, I thought to myself as I sauntered up to the door.
For such a ‘major company’, their presence was minimal. 206. That was the office number. As I stood in front, on the precipice of financial freedom, I realized that the company didn’t even have a sign on the door. Instead, I had to look through the window to see a bright neon light designed like coffee shop décor. Interesting choice.
I walked in and was immediately greeted by a man who was suspiciously excited. His smile stretched across his skinny face as his lanky hand limply shook mine. Another bad sign.
“Hey welcome to KoolScape! (Not the real company name) I’m Francois! (not his real name either). Fill out this questionnaire and have a seat! Did you bring your resume?” He said, putting his hand on his hip like I was about to snap a shot for a fashion magazine.
“Yes, I have my resume.” I said sternly, taking the clipboard away from him.
“Great! Just put that bad boy underneath that sheet of paper, kay?” He said, omitting the “O” usually reserved for the beginning of that word.
I sat down firmly, and looked over the clipboard. If I didn’t know any better I would have assumed I walked into a doctor’s office instead of a salesperson interview. The sheet asked for my name, birthday, personal interests, why I would be a good fit, why the company stuck out to me, and other irrelevant information. Why even conduct an interview if I had to take a test first?
It wasn’t a test for competency, but for general interest. I filled it out quickly and handed it, along with my resume back to the gentleman at the front counter.
“Greeeeaaatttt!” He chirped. “Come back with me.” He said, and sashayed his hips all the way to the interview room. “Did you find us okay?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that my GPS took me to the back of the building, how there were technically two “206” offices in the complex, and how they should really invest in signage if they want business. I took in a deep breath.
“Yes, it wasn’t too hard.” I responded. “There was a number on the door.” I tried to make a light joke.
“That’s true! You’d be surprised how many people can’t see that.” He responded, then looked over my paperwork. “So what interests you in this position?”
I went into a long winded, professional explanation of my background, and how it related to software sales. I let myself flow with the expertise that I had developed over years of hard work and effort. At the end of my speech, I sat back in the chair, proud of my resolve. He blinked.
“That’s great! Glad to see you are interested.” That was all he had to say. “I really like the way you talk.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s that word?” He said suddenly. “It’s for the words you use…”
“My vocabulary?” I offered.
“No, not that. It’s the way you speak. The words you choose.”
“My demeanor?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s for the words you choose to speak with.” He shook his head then flicked his wrists like he was trying to swat a mosquito off his forehead. “Never mind! You got it.”
“The job?” I responded.
“No, that manner of speaking. That I like.” He said, then leaned over the table. “Are you available in an hour?”
I’d rarely been offered jobs on the spot, but this was sudden. We hadn’t even discussed pay, hours, benefits. Something was off.
“Yes?” I said calmly.
“Good. Wanna do a second interview big dawg?” He said informally. “This wasn’t a formal interview. The company sends me to gauge interest. That’s why I can be so chill.” He said, smiling enough to make sure I saw every tooth.
“Ah, I see.” I said, “So I can’t ask any questions about the job?”
“No, you can!” He said excitedly, “But I might not know the answer to them.”
But don’t you work here? I wanted to ask, but bit my tongue. This was going to be interesting.
“Sure, I’ll be here for the second interview.” I said, rising up from the desk. He offered his hand again, and I shook the limp appendage firmly. He winced. It was not my intention to hurt anyone, but if someone can’t give a firm handshake there is a problem.
I went off for the next little bit to get some burgers at the local White Castle, which I thought was just a West Coast thing. When I returned, I was met by the faces of other potential sales candidates.
There was a lady who had put on enough makeup to empty the local beauty store, another woman who walked in off the local street corner, and a gentleman who looked like he rolled out of bed, smoked a joint and then wandered in off a hunch. His clothes were tattered and worn, and his hair curled down over his eyes to where he had to shake his head to see anyone. I wasn’t sure what kind of company this was, but if this was my competition then I’d be fine.
“Alright, we are ready to begin.” A larger gentleman said as he guided us to a back room. We all sat comfortably around a conference table as the man began his presentation. “Wasup guys! My name is Joe. I’m the owner of this company and I just wanted to give you a little bit of a presentation to show you guys wasup. But before I begin, lemme aks you guys a question. I wanna do one of dose ice breakers. Tell me your name and what you do as a hobby, or interest or something. I don’t care. You ladies start.” He pointed at the couple of women at the table.
They gave brief, awkward introductions before it came around to me.
“Hey, my name is Jonathan. I’m originally from…”
A loud ringer interrupted my introduction as he pulled out his phone. “Hold on a second big dawg.” He said and immediately answered the call. “Hey bruh, I’m in a orientation. What you need? Nah, I can’t do that. Told you, I’m in a meeting. Just go to the store. Yeah. Alright bye.” He said then looked at me. “What were you sayin man? Sorry bout dat.”
“It’s alright.” I said, trying to hide my irritation. “My name is Jonathan, and I’m originally from Charlotte. I like to act, write, play music, lots of stuff.” I said, realizing that I immediately lost the room, so I trailed off.
“Okay.” He said, then introduced the last guy like he’d known him for years just because he owned eleven dogs. This interview was already off to a weird start. I took notes as the slides popped up.
“Now here at KoolScape, we work with a lot of non-profit organizations!” He said, flicking to the slide with a bunch of companies listed. One fed children in the area, another provided solutions to veterans, the last one provided anti-virus solutions to residential clients. Wait a minute, I thought to myself as I saw the logo. That wasn’t a non-profit. That’s when I realized this wasn’t a software sales job at all.
The skills I had hung my hat on were not remotely relevant to what this company did. Honestly, I’m not even sure if the company knew what they did because the purpose of the company changed with every passing slide. Help non-profits gather donors. Help provide financial stability for non-profits who were lacking support. Help give non-profits exposure through in-person advertising at events. I was thoroughly confused.
“…now we get a budget from these organizations, of which we takes cuts of that budget to pay you guys!” He said as he went to the pay structure slide. My brain melted inside my skull. This wasn’t just confusing. It was insulting. “First off, you get a generous forty five dollars a day. That’s just for showing up. That’s your rate.” He said confidently.
That wasn’t enough to pay for the gas to drive here. I also wouldn’t be able to eat, or pay bills, or have a life. I sighed as he started to explain the pay structure. This was going to be great.
“…for each donor, you guys will get seventy bucks!” He said, looking around the room. “If you get seven donors a week, you’re gonna make about five hundred and eighty dollars on top of your forty five dollars a day!” He explained. Numbers added up to sums that were impossible, then were multiplied by phantom funds that were drawn out of the ether to create a fantastic final pay.
After a few more minutes of confident mathematical ignorance, he opened the floor for questions. My lack of poker face made me a prime target for this presenter’s unfounded ego. He glanced over at me and cleared his throat.
“You got something for us big dawg?” He said, leaning in towards me.
“Yeah, I guess.” I said calmly. “So, we get a budget from a company…”
“No, they don’t pay us for money. They pay us for donors.” He said.
“Alright, so the donors have a financial backing right?”
“Yeah, they pay us to find donors.” He clarified.
“If, say they pay us for five hundred donors, what happens if we overshoot?”
“We won’t.” He said coldly. “If we get close to that five hundred, I stop.”
“You stop?”
“Yeah, we won’t advertise for them any more. These non-profits don’t mean nothing man. They all work the same. Whether I get donations for one or another doesn’t make a difference to me. I’m in this for the business.” He said, smiling as if he successfully answered my question.
I was floored. Who runs a donation business for non-profits but doesn’t care about the purpose for those non-profits? Why even wear their merchandise, advertise for donors, and try to rally support for something you don’t even believe in? I fumed. This was not what was advertised.
“Anyways, now that we got that out the way.” He continued, trying to regain control of the room. “I’m going to send you guys out in pairs. Monday through Friday. You can come in Saturday, but you won’t be paid unless you get donors. It’s straight commission but you’re free to come in.” He explained as if he were doing us a favor. The only favor he could’ve done me was to end the meeting early and let me go home.
He glanced back over at me. “You got another question?”
“Yeah.” At this point I was a blatantly open book full of observed red flags and exes across this entire operation. “If we are sent out in pairs, are donors shared between them?”
“What do you mean?” He asked.
“I mean.” I cleared my throat. “If someone signs up for a cause, do we get split commission?”
“Nah, why would we do that?” He asked, laughing to himself. “You get what you get!” He responded coldly. “If you get more donations than your partner. Tough. It’s usually pretty cordial though, you just switch back and forth between you guys.” He said, trying to reel back in his previous statement.
“Oh, okay.”
“Any other questions?”
“No.”
“Alright perfect!” He continued. “We finna post up outside of Walmart, liquor stores and gas stations. Where you go is entirely up to us on the morning of your shift.” He said, then slowly faded into the background as I stopped listening.
I believe generous people are everywhere, but this business strategy was making less sense the more he spoke. And he was the owner. If the owner of a business can’t vision cast better than this, then I expected a high turnover rate, even higher pressure, and an incessant bugging to pull in imaginary donors that didn’t exist. Liquor stores are not the prime location for a donation booth. That would be like setting up a southern sweet tea shop in the heart of Washington, DC. Sure you might have some takers, but most people would pass the shop up without a second thought.
Eventually the meeting had dragged on to it’s only logical conclusion, which was to get us to fill out another questionnaire, like a quiz after a lecture. I filled it out quickly then handed it to the toothy man at the front desk. The building looked even smaller on the way out.
“This job isn’t for me.” I said sternly as I gave him the clipboard and immediately left the premises. A homeless man walked by outside with a derogatory request scrawled across carboard. I hurried to my car and swiftly drove to the nicer side of town where I lived.
After I got home, I looked up the job I originally applied to and it was gone. The company had advertised “software sales” but did a bait and switch. Sadly, I didn’t take a screenshot to prove it so I had to live with the memory and regret of being bamboozled.
I should’ve known something was off when I saw the parking lot. I went in looking for a career. I walked out with a cautionary tale.
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