Great Resignation continues, but beware of hustlers
WFFH: When a job seems too good to be true, best believe it (usually) is
Writer’s note: This post was originally published on Medium’s “We Need to Talk” on June 27, 2022.
Something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but when I walked into this building, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to leave. I’d quit my job in Corporate America and said I would never go back. But then I got a recruiter email to write for an organization I really respect. I do not enjoy marketing or sales writing 98% of the time, but there’s that 2% of subjects that I will happily write all the press releases, business proposals and brochures you ask me to write. This job had one of those clients, and I was not going to pass up the opportunity to write for them.
(Side note: Contrary to popular belief, Beyonce is not making women quit their jobs. I quit four years before “Break My Soul” released.” The Great Resignation is happening courtesy of COVID-19 and employees getting fed up with gas prices, long commutes and unfulfilling jobs, not Queen Bey. Some of you blame this lady for everything though.)
When I walked into the lobby, it had a couple of couches and was spacious. It looked like it was rented out though. No permanent company sign on the door nor the actual lobby. The receptionist didn’t even have a name plate. But there was this boombox in the center of the room that threw me off even more. As a Millennial born in the ’80s, this would’ve made sense in my elementary school years. But in the 2010s and beyond, I raise an eyebrow at anyone still buying CDs or listening to hand-held radios. While you’re at it, may as well grab your pager, adjust your leg warmers and make sure your A-symmetrical hairstyle still looks neat.
I sat down anyway, moving away from the boombox that was playing pop music LOUD AS EVER. But then I heard the sound of a crowd, first clapping politely, then louder, then cheering, then I saw actual pom-poms. I turned around to see a large conference room with a group of people (largely in their 20s) inside. One guy was clearly chanting something and asking them to cheer. And they were going along with it, like it was an out-of-place NBA game. I looked from the conference room to the boombox. I was starting to feel more like Daniel Kaluuya in “Get Out!”
Any employer who still uses the terms “kickass” and “rock star” needs to shut their doors and sell their company immediately. The IRS needs to bill them extra fees for being corny.
I had to use the restroom as well. So I asked the receptionist, who was sitting at a lone desk with very minimal supplies, where it was. I went inside of the restroom. No toilet tissue. I returned to the lobby to inquire about it. She nodded and said she’d let [insert random employee name] know to restock. I nodded. I looked around for the employee to come out. No one did. I sat back down. Ten minutes later, I still had to pee. I asked her about restocking the bathroom, and she said, “I can’t leave the desk right now. Can you just go across the street to Walgreens?”