Cobb: The Dropout

January 29, 2003

The Dropout

Once upon a time, not long ago, I was canvassing the planet searching for sustenance. OK I exaggerate, i was scouring LA county looking for a good paying job, OK you got me, I was sitting waiting for my resume e-mail blast to drop a six figure gig in my lap.

Sure enough, there was something peculiar enough about my resume to attract the attention of a hustler. His scheme? Something like multi-level marketing, something like recruitment, something like nothing I've ever interviewed for in my life.

I passed through their initial screening. He let me do all the talking about my career, and since I had emphasized business development on that particular resume, he complimented me on my ability to present myself well over the phone. He invited me to his office which was over near the Pomona Fairgrounds in a small business park. I entered through the tinted glass door and listened to a stocky redheaded guy in a suit and sandals schomooze on the phone for a few minutes about the surf conditions, then lay into somebody's ass about getting their licensing dues to the head office on time. I sat, with my briefcase and Nordstrom tie awaiting my appointment, and glanced about the plaques on the wall. Top Performer, Club, Tiger of the Month. It was a boiler room.

The folks out in Pomona represented a huge corporation based in the Netherlands who were trying to expand their US presence. Divisions and groups and assets had been sold, and now they needed to find people who were willing to sell these financial instruments. The entire deal was that they weren't Merrill Lynch, but their financial instruments were just as good as anyone's. The parent company saved money on commissions by employing their own low overhead sales force instead of the high profile Gucci shoe types employed in the financial capitals of the world. If Morgan Stanley has a bad year and you are a Series Seven licensee who gets laid off, where do you go? Outfits like this one.

My interviewer was charismatic and bright. He had been a Harvard medical student, but he became impatient. He took an economics class and did the math. He would have to learn an extraordinary amount about the human body, pass test after test, pay off his Harvard debt, purchase malpractice insurance and build a practice from scratch. 15 years later, maybe he could afford a house in LA County. He needed cash. He helped build the adhoc sales force, he saw in me the right stuff.

People like you and I are too smart not to be rich. I now drive a new Mercedes Benz (always the Benz). I am only (some obscenely small number) and I'm already a millionaire. Those people don't care if you and I make money, you have to know what they know. This you can do in America. It's simply a matter of confidence.

It is a confidence game. I decided not to play, but I still fret over the fact that I promised him that I would show up at their big gathering. I can't afford to play those sports, because I don't own a home. If I did, then I would. I would be making hay in America. As it stands, I have a good deal of bonecrushing debt. But I understand clearly what it takes to make it in this country. You simply have to be young enough, dilligent enough, charismatic enough and rich enough. Rich enough means, you don't need to worry about having a roof over your head. Brains help, luck helps in about equal measure.

I hadn't thought about this opportunity until this morning in reflection over Charles mentioning that some guy predicted that America would be at war with Japan in the 80s. I remember the hatred when major motion picture studios and real estate in America's largest cities were being bought up by wealthy Japanese businessmen. I remember well the days of Lee Iacocca, the ridiculous American car and the ever increasingly powerful Yen.

America changed.

My interviewer was Chinese.

Posted by mbowen at January 29, 2003 09:33 PM

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