My FirstLine Summer Experience
***Warning--This Post Is Exceedingly Long***
I want to clarify, I think I'm passed the bitter stage, I've even stopped entertaining ideas of revenge--my story is purely for the benefit of those people who are considering working for FirstLine, and are smart enough to research it first (sadly, I was not).
I was handed a flier in the cafeteria at ASU West Campus and asked this question "Would you like to be part of a new Reality TV show?" Normally, I consider myself pretty astute, and I NEVER give anything like this a second thought (I'm a pretty skeptical kinda guy, and now even more so). But, unfortunately, or for reasons unknown to be as of yet, I said "Heck why not! I'm in college, what have I got to lose?" So he gave me a "VIP Pass" and I got to show up to a big meeting room at 8 AM on a Saturday morning.
I had no idea what to expect, except that I would be interviewed and probably judged the entire time if I was acceptable material for a "Reality TV show" (which they called the Prodigy. FirstLine isn't mentioned AT ALL until you sign on, and even then they bold-facedly lie that they don't know what you're selling yet). I was my outgoing, charming, wonderful self for the first half, interviewed pretty poorly, but miraculously I still "passed" and got "called back". Then Jared Taggart spoke. And I knew what I was doing with my Summer. I didn't care how hard it was, what I had to do, or how humiliated I would be on "national TV"--I was going to be the next Prodigy, baby!
It should be noted that Jared Taggart is one of the most charismatic and influential public speakers, probably in the world at this point, and the best one I've certainly seen.
Critial Lesson #1 learned over the Summer: Don't believe everything you hear. (I know, how the heck did I make it to 19 and miss THAT one?)
I interviewed again, this time somewhat better, and made my verbal comittment "to all of America" (they had a video camera in the interview rooms) that "I would not quit, not matter what." My mother would have been proud.
Critical Lesson #2: NEVER verbally commit to something unless you're getting married or about to be shot in the head. Basically, never promise anything, just simply say "Yes" or "No".
--
They preached it to me long and hard before letting me know what the heck I had just signed my life away for. "Your commitments will see you through the hardest of times." And then it was inspiring. And that's probably the truest thing they told me. They were right. I'm such an ass that I refused to back out on my word, even after I realized (half way through the summer) what a scam I was caught up in. My parents and friends back home said that was "honorable" and would "set the tone for my life". All I can say is--it had better. The price was a phenomenally high one to pay, and, in my current opinion, not worth it in the slightest. Don't swear to impress people or convince them. Know yourself well enough to know that if you say you'll do something, you'll do it. and leave it at that.
--
While my newfound fire for this fantastic new chapter of my life burned, I couldn't resist telling my family and close friends about my new path to Hollywood (despite the (fake) confidentiality surround my initiation). I was so excited, I drove half an hour to all of the meetings and team building exercises because I was GOING to be the best. At this point I had still not learned or applied lesson #1. I was sold.
They gradually, oh-so-slowly, in their perfected, salesman-like way, introduced the fact that we would be selling. Security systems. Door-to-door. All summer. For 10-12 hours a day. Every day except Sunday. In California.
Appealing to the masculine drive for competition, for dominance, they explained (truthfully again! That's twice so far) that this would be the hardest thing we'd ever done. It only inspired me to set my face harder, that I would NEVER give up, give in, or back down. I was sold from the moment Taggart said it was the hardest thing I would ever do. After all, I was a man, and by golly, I was going to be successful in this life.
Slowly, they tell you just enough to keep you coming back, but never enough to satisfy your questions (or the truth). With pristine sales technique, anything they didn't want to answer they would "touch-and-go" on, circumnavigate, lie about, or in certain managers' cases, completely ignore.
Then you start training. I went out on the doors in AZ to try to break myself in, give myself any “advantage”. The training is hilariously pathetic, by the way. The way they really train you is to drop you off in a neighborhood and say "figure it out." Their training is essentially indoctrination and masked inspiration to get you-right where I went.--Stubbornly determined to be the best. I suppose the model is effective if you discount the whole ethical thing-and of course how you handle the situation once your guys find out you’re completely untrustworthy.
Summer came, I bought my ticket to California (they don’t tell you where you’re going until about 2 weeks before you leave, under the pretense that “they have no idea.” Again, a brilliant strategy for keeping suspense, but also a complete lie.)
I went a week early (again hoping to give myself an advantage). I sat around for a week on my butt, with little food, as I had no car (again ingenious strategy to insure maximum production) and slept on the ground (as I had been misinformed that we would actually have beds when we got there). I slept on top of my very thin sheets. I unpacked and threw away boxes of constantly arriving equipment to pass the time. But my spirits were not dampened! This was but a foretaste of the tribulations to come! … I’m very smart, in a very dumb way sometimes.
The Summer started, I met the guys, we didn’t grow very close very soon, as (falsely) promised, due to the fact that we were alone all day. Well no, that’s not true, we had the company of the lovely people upon whose doors we knocked, for 9 and 10 straight hours. I started off well, getting a sale my very first day. A good indication of the future and blessing from the Lord! I didn’t exactly feel good after I got out of the house… but I soon called my parents excited. (The deal was completely botched by the way, and the woman later admitted she didn’t even want a security system.) As a side note, I never felt right after making a sale, but I think that was unique refusal of success, that I was addicted to.
Luckily, after a hard days work, we had the ever-worsening attempts of the managers to cheer and inspire. The days passed slowly. One by one, the less skilled at salesmanship (smarter?) became disillusioned (realized the truth faster) and “broke the commitments” and got the hell out early. Bravo to you for not being an idiot, and I’m sure it haunts you every night that you “went back on your word” as our managers insured you would-at the same time forbidding us to contact any of you because of compassionate attempts to not get “bad blood” and decrease (if possible) morale.
Yet morale continued to sink, and only the “strong-willed” and “survivors” pressed on in the delightful world of door-to-door sales.
Our office shrunk, with astonishing speed, from about 30 guys, to 20, to 15, to 12, to…8? and then half way through the summer we were relieved to be pushed back up to 17 because another office had been shut down…make that 16, 15, 14, 13 as time went on. The good news was there was more room in the vans to try and catch one last wink of sleep before stepping out into the inviting world of security sales. The bad news was our sales numbers sank pathetically low, and neither encouragement nor scolding would magically rejuvenate our once thriving numbers. We got pumped by Taggart again once or twice over the summer, and because of his incredible skill, we sold better for…a day.
Half way through--No more dinner bonuses, no more “incentives”, pathetic, superficial, and quickly-annoying ‘atta boy’s, excuse me “Dude! You frickin’ pimp! Dude you’re such a frickin’ stud! You droppin' a deuce on us all today?!” eventually slackened, though sadly, never completely disappeared. Life was officially hellish.
We were lied to, and we finally knew it. We couldn’t tell our managers how we really felt, because we still had to see them every day, and none of us wanted our “huge backend checks” to be stripped away for something trivial like the truth. Yes, you could be terminated for any reason, at any time, and all your work would be-gone. But you signed a contract so you kept your mouth shut.
…Unless you were a specific man whom I endlessly admire that we shall name Fred. Then you would be responsible for my best and favorite memory of the summer.
---
To boost morale, our “band of brothers” would play a sport on Thursday mornings before hitting the doors-usually football. And like all games that involve several young men, the conclusion to the game was usually an empty victory surrounded in colorful language and hearty complaints about fairness of the teams (which was impossible to balance).
So one day, in fact the LAST day that we played football, Fred had just about had enough. Fred was the best salesman in our group (though his numbers weren’t great because he was smart enough not to give a damn), the funniest, and the volatile. I have never met anyone with such an astonishing temper as Fred had. Well, Mr. head manager decided to be himself (which was by default, in polite terms, an arrogant ass) and make his rules for the game after a (comparatively) mild dispute. Fred reasoned that Mr. head manager wasn’t God and decided to tell him he was full of it. Mr. head manager didn’t take kindly to that at all, and promptly began to sink from arrogant-ass to fit-throwing 2nd grader-so Fred responded accordingly, and let the colors fly. Though we were slightly mortified at such an act of defiance, and afraid for the loss of one of our finest for several hours afterwards, none could help but burst with joy (inwardly) that all their silent thoughts had finally been given voice.
Actually Fred almost made it more than voice and I (with a tinge of regret now) aided in interceding. It wasn’t exactly a morale booster, we were far beyong morale at this point, but it does give me something other than bitterness to look back on.
---
When July came I reached my peak, and coincidently, the realization of the truth. My sales sharply declined. The days lengthened, and though warmer now (I had one very miserable night early in the summer when in the very-windy bay area. I hate cold.) the days were decidedly more boring and wrought with self-doubt, depression, contradiction, justification and finally Taco Bell. Yes, the last two weeks of the summer I spent my time reading Leviticus through 2nd Samuel in a Taco Bell-never with a clean conscious, but cleaner than the thought of selling another system to someone as naïve as myself.
I prayed, I (third truth Taggart promised!) cried-not quite like a girl, but pretty miserably a few times. I never did pee my pants, but I did get coffee thrown on me at one point. I fought my emotions, my mind, my negativity, my skepticism, my pessimism and new-found hatred for humanity which rises acutely from this line of work, and begged God for the truth nearly every door. Every minute of every day of every week of every month was a battle. It was the hardest thing I have done. They were right.
And now we come to the conclusion of my summer of 2007.
When my father came to pick me up and drive home (he had drive 12 hours to come get me), I picked up my stuff and promptly began to stuff it in his truck.
Critical lesson #3: When living in temporary lodgings for any amount of time less than a year, buy plastic silver and plastic wear, not real cups and plates and silverware.
“Aren’t we sleeping here for the night?” asked my exhausted father. It was 8:45 PM. “No.” I said. Being a salesman for the past 3 and ½ months taught me that if you want something, be a jackass. I would not spend one more second, despite the close bonds I had developed with the other guys, in Woodland Hills apartments, Pittsburg/Concord California.
In all fairness, this is what I thank FirstLine for, even though I could have learned it in other ways.
1. Everyone has to grow up sometime and realize that, yes, there are people in the world without ethics.
2. I can now more effectively rip myself out of depression, maintain a positive attitude, and look on the “bright-side” more often. For that I am honestly thankful, however, whether the company is responsible for that is disputable. I thank them for providing the hellish environment that is required for such temperance.
3. The men I met. Not all of them were a positive experience of course, but several of them were, and all of them taught me something.
In short,
Thanks for the experience FirstLine Security. Never do that to me or anyone else again.
The sooner this company is obliterated, the better. FirstLine Security is more than just a menace to the general sub-urban public, they are unethical in their business, primarily in the area of unflinching deception, and they need to be disposed of.
Of course it would also be nice if we could tar and feather the executives, make restitution for all the college students duped, and ensure that all such future companies will be outlawed-but I’ll settle for obliteration.
Sincerely,
Tyler Heald
I want to clarify, I think I'm passed the bitter stage, I've even stopped entertaining ideas of revenge--my story is purely for the benefit of those people who are considering working for FirstLine, and are smart enough to research it first (sadly, I was not).
I was handed a flier in the cafeteria at ASU West Campus and asked this question "Would you like to be part of a new Reality TV show?" Normally, I consider myself pretty astute, and I NEVER give anything like this a second thought (I'm a pretty skeptical kinda guy, and now even more so). But, unfortunately, or for reasons unknown to be as of yet, I said "Heck why not! I'm in college, what have I got to lose?" So he gave me a "VIP Pass" and I got to show up to a big meeting room at 8 AM on a Saturday morning.
I had no idea what to expect, except that I would be interviewed and probably judged the entire time if I was acceptable material for a "Reality TV show" (which they called the Prodigy. FirstLine isn't mentioned AT ALL until you sign on, and even then they bold-facedly lie that they don't know what you're selling yet). I was my outgoing, charming, wonderful self for the first half, interviewed pretty poorly, but miraculously I still "passed" and got "called back". Then Jared Taggart spoke. And I knew what I was doing with my Summer. I didn't care how hard it was, what I had to do, or how humiliated I would be on "national TV"--I was going to be the next Prodigy, baby!
It should be noted that Jared Taggart is one of the most charismatic and influential public speakers, probably in the world at this point, and the best one I've certainly seen.
Critial Lesson #1 learned over the Summer: Don't believe everything you hear. (I know, how the heck did I make it to 19 and miss THAT one?)
I interviewed again, this time somewhat better, and made my verbal comittment "to all of America" (they had a video camera in the interview rooms) that "I would not quit, not matter what." My mother would have been proud.
Critical Lesson #2: NEVER verbally commit to something unless you're getting married or about to be shot in the head. Basically, never promise anything, just simply say "Yes" or "No".
--
They preached it to me long and hard before letting me know what the heck I had just signed my life away for. "Your commitments will see you through the hardest of times." And then it was inspiring. And that's probably the truest thing they told me. They were right. I'm such an ass that I refused to back out on my word, even after I realized (half way through the summer) what a scam I was caught up in. My parents and friends back home said that was "honorable" and would "set the tone for my life". All I can say is--it had better. The price was a phenomenally high one to pay, and, in my current opinion, not worth it in the slightest. Don't swear to impress people or convince them. Know yourself well enough to know that if you say you'll do something, you'll do it. and leave it at that.
--
While my newfound fire for this fantastic new chapter of my life burned, I couldn't resist telling my family and close friends about my new path to Hollywood (despite the (fake) confidentiality surround my initiation). I was so excited, I drove half an hour to all of the meetings and team building exercises because I was GOING to be the best. At this point I had still not learned or applied lesson #1. I was sold.
They gradually, oh-so-slowly, in their perfected, salesman-like way, introduced the fact that we would be selling. Security systems. Door-to-door. All summer. For 10-12 hours a day. Every day except Sunday. In California.
Appealing to the masculine drive for competition, for dominance, they explained (truthfully again! That's twice so far) that this would be the hardest thing we'd ever done. It only inspired me to set my face harder, that I would NEVER give up, give in, or back down. I was sold from the moment Taggart said it was the hardest thing I would ever do. After all, I was a man, and by golly, I was going to be successful in this life.
Slowly, they tell you just enough to keep you coming back, but never enough to satisfy your questions (or the truth). With pristine sales technique, anything they didn't want to answer they would "touch-and-go" on, circumnavigate, lie about, or in certain managers' cases, completely ignore.
Then you start training. I went out on the doors in AZ to try to break myself in, give myself any “advantage”. The training is hilariously pathetic, by the way. The way they really train you is to drop you off in a neighborhood and say "figure it out." Their training is essentially indoctrination and masked inspiration to get you-right where I went.--Stubbornly determined to be the best. I suppose the model is effective if you discount the whole ethical thing-and of course how you handle the situation once your guys find out you’re completely untrustworthy.
Summer came, I bought my ticket to California (they don’t tell you where you’re going until about 2 weeks before you leave, under the pretense that “they have no idea.” Again, a brilliant strategy for keeping suspense, but also a complete lie.)
I went a week early (again hoping to give myself an advantage). I sat around for a week on my butt, with little food, as I had no car (again ingenious strategy to insure maximum production) and slept on the ground (as I had been misinformed that we would actually have beds when we got there). I slept on top of my very thin sheets. I unpacked and threw away boxes of constantly arriving equipment to pass the time. But my spirits were not dampened! This was but a foretaste of the tribulations to come! … I’m very smart, in a very dumb way sometimes.
The Summer started, I met the guys, we didn’t grow very close very soon, as (falsely) promised, due to the fact that we were alone all day. Well no, that’s not true, we had the company of the lovely people upon whose doors we knocked, for 9 and 10 straight hours. I started off well, getting a sale my very first day. A good indication of the future and blessing from the Lord! I didn’t exactly feel good after I got out of the house… but I soon called my parents excited. (The deal was completely botched by the way, and the woman later admitted she didn’t even want a security system.) As a side note, I never felt right after making a sale, but I think that was unique refusal of success, that I was addicted to.
Luckily, after a hard days work, we had the ever-worsening attempts of the managers to cheer and inspire. The days passed slowly. One by one, the less skilled at salesmanship (smarter?) became disillusioned (realized the truth faster) and “broke the commitments” and got the hell out early. Bravo to you for not being an idiot, and I’m sure it haunts you every night that you “went back on your word” as our managers insured you would-at the same time forbidding us to contact any of you because of compassionate attempts to not get “bad blood” and decrease (if possible) morale.
Yet morale continued to sink, and only the “strong-willed” and “survivors” pressed on in the delightful world of door-to-door sales.
Our office shrunk, with astonishing speed, from about 30 guys, to 20, to 15, to 12, to…8? and then half way through the summer we were relieved to be pushed back up to 17 because another office had been shut down…make that 16, 15, 14, 13 as time went on. The good news was there was more room in the vans to try and catch one last wink of sleep before stepping out into the inviting world of security sales. The bad news was our sales numbers sank pathetically low, and neither encouragement nor scolding would magically rejuvenate our once thriving numbers. We got pumped by Taggart again once or twice over the summer, and because of his incredible skill, we sold better for…a day.
Half way through--No more dinner bonuses, no more “incentives”, pathetic, superficial, and quickly-annoying ‘atta boy’s, excuse me “Dude! You frickin’ pimp! Dude you’re such a frickin’ stud! You droppin' a deuce on us all today?!” eventually slackened, though sadly, never completely disappeared. Life was officially hellish.
We were lied to, and we finally knew it. We couldn’t tell our managers how we really felt, because we still had to see them every day, and none of us wanted our “huge backend checks” to be stripped away for something trivial like the truth. Yes, you could be terminated for any reason, at any time, and all your work would be-gone. But you signed a contract so you kept your mouth shut.
…Unless you were a specific man whom I endlessly admire that we shall name Fred. Then you would be responsible for my best and favorite memory of the summer.
---
To boost morale, our “band of brothers” would play a sport on Thursday mornings before hitting the doors-usually football. And like all games that involve several young men, the conclusion to the game was usually an empty victory surrounded in colorful language and hearty complaints about fairness of the teams (which was impossible to balance).
So one day, in fact the LAST day that we played football, Fred had just about had enough. Fred was the best salesman in our group (though his numbers weren’t great because he was smart enough not to give a damn), the funniest, and the volatile. I have never met anyone with such an astonishing temper as Fred had. Well, Mr. head manager decided to be himself (which was by default, in polite terms, an arrogant ass) and make his rules for the game after a (comparatively) mild dispute. Fred reasoned that Mr. head manager wasn’t God and decided to tell him he was full of it. Mr. head manager didn’t take kindly to that at all, and promptly began to sink from arrogant-ass to fit-throwing 2nd grader-so Fred responded accordingly, and let the colors fly. Though we were slightly mortified at such an act of defiance, and afraid for the loss of one of our finest for several hours afterwards, none could help but burst with joy (inwardly) that all their silent thoughts had finally been given voice.
Actually Fred almost made it more than voice and I (with a tinge of regret now) aided in interceding. It wasn’t exactly a morale booster, we were far beyong morale at this point, but it does give me something other than bitterness to look back on.
---
When July came I reached my peak, and coincidently, the realization of the truth. My sales sharply declined. The days lengthened, and though warmer now (I had one very miserable night early in the summer when in the very-windy bay area. I hate cold.) the days were decidedly more boring and wrought with self-doubt, depression, contradiction, justification and finally Taco Bell. Yes, the last two weeks of the summer I spent my time reading Leviticus through 2nd Samuel in a Taco Bell-never with a clean conscious, but cleaner than the thought of selling another system to someone as naïve as myself.
I prayed, I (third truth Taggart promised!) cried-not quite like a girl, but pretty miserably a few times. I never did pee my pants, but I did get coffee thrown on me at one point. I fought my emotions, my mind, my negativity, my skepticism, my pessimism and new-found hatred for humanity which rises acutely from this line of work, and begged God for the truth nearly every door. Every minute of every day of every week of every month was a battle. It was the hardest thing I have done. They were right.
And now we come to the conclusion of my summer of 2007.
When my father came to pick me up and drive home (he had drive 12 hours to come get me), I picked up my stuff and promptly began to stuff it in his truck.
Critical lesson #3: When living in temporary lodgings for any amount of time less than a year, buy plastic silver and plastic wear, not real cups and plates and silverware.
“Aren’t we sleeping here for the night?” asked my exhausted father. It was 8:45 PM. “No.” I said. Being a salesman for the past 3 and ½ months taught me that if you want something, be a jackass. I would not spend one more second, despite the close bonds I had developed with the other guys, in Woodland Hills apartments, Pittsburg/Concord California.
In all fairness, this is what I thank FirstLine for, even though I could have learned it in other ways.
1. Everyone has to grow up sometime and realize that, yes, there are people in the world without ethics.
2. I can now more effectively rip myself out of depression, maintain a positive attitude, and look on the “bright-side” more often. For that I am honestly thankful, however, whether the company is responsible for that is disputable. I thank them for providing the hellish environment that is required for such temperance.
3. The men I met. Not all of them were a positive experience of course, but several of them were, and all of them taught me something.
In short,
Thanks for the experience FirstLine Security. Never do that to me or anyone else again.
The sooner this company is obliterated, the better. FirstLine Security is more than just a menace to the general sub-urban public, they are unethical in their business, primarily in the area of unflinching deception, and they need to be disposed of.
Of course it would also be nice if we could tar and feather the executives, make restitution for all the college students duped, and ensure that all such future companies will be outlawed-but I’ll settle for obliteration.
Sincerely,
Tyler Heald