I pulled into the parking lot, certain I’d arrived at the wrong address.
I was in a suit and tie. And I had driven across town at rush hour to get here. But here looked nothing like I’d expected.
You see, the reason for all of this — the fancy clothes, the slog through traffic — was a job interview with a marketing firm. I knew little about the firm, but I expected it to be located within some massive office building.
Instead, I found myself face-to-face with a nondescript, industrial office park. Single-story buildings abounded, devoid of signage. Plumbing and home contracting work trucks sat on the far end of the parking lot.
I couldn’t be in the right place, could I?
Fighting through my apprehension, I made my way to the front door and opened it. In the small lobby sat a few other job candidates, dressed like me. I gave my name to the receptionist and took a seat alongside them.
One by one, we were called into a manager’s office. When it was my turn, the manager only asked me a few basic questions. Then he asked me to return to the lobby with the others.
A few minutes later, we were told we’d be going out in the field. We were paired off with existing employees, all wearing suits like we were. And we followed them outside of the building.
The employee I’d been paired with directed me to his car, and asked me to get in. Soon, we were found ourselves at a different industrial office park. We got out of the car, walked right past the No Soliciting signs, and entered an office.
The employee introduced himself and launched into a pitch about some kitchen knives. The startled office workers stated they didn’t need cutlery, but this man would not be so easily denied. He endeavored to change their minds, unveiling a prototype he had brought with him in a carrying case.
When the office workers softened their stance to We’ll think about it, the man handed over a business card. Then, we were on our way to the next office.
At this point, I was starting to realize that I’d been duped. This marketing role I’d applied to was actually a sales job. A door-to-door sales job. And I was now trapped.
After a couple more office visits, the employee and I returned to his car. Sensing my apprehension, he tried to sell me on the job.
The man spoke of how much money he was able to earn in commissions each month, and all the nice things he was able to get his girlfriend. He gushed about the opportunity to earn even more soon.
I was still unconvinced, so I peppered the employee with questions.
When I asked about the No Soliciting signs, he implied those were just suggestions. When I asked about the man’s tactics, he talked about the importance of turning a No into a Yes. When I asked if he could truly vouch for the product, he mentioned that he could vouch for making money, and that was what mattered.
Then he turned the questioning back on me.
Is this something you feel you can do? If so, we can keep going. If not, I can bring you back to the main office now. But consider about the opportunity this job brings before you answer.
I did consider it for a moment. But ultimately, I told the truth.
I could not see myself doing this, and I wanted a ride back to my car. Immediately.
Every now and then, I think back to the “job interview” experience I had that day.
It was unpredictable, manipulative, even deceptive.
But was it worthy of my icy response? Probably not.
The salesperson I was paired with was certainly shallow. But ultimately, he only cost some office workers a few minutes of their time. People have done far worse.
So, why was I so anatomically opposed to his work? Why was I so revolted that I bailed on the only job prospect I had at the time?
The roots of that answer lie in an unfortunate event from my childhood.
I was about 5 years old, tagging along with my parents as they shopped for a new car. After looking at a Toyota Camry, my parents told the salesperson they didn’t want to buy it. But the seller wouldn’t take No for an option and pushed my parents to make a down payment on the spot.
Offended, my father asked to speak with a manager. But instead of hearing us out, the manager locked all of us in his office and showed us a Camry promotional video.
When the video was over, he tried — forcefully — to coerce my parents to sign a check for the down payment. And once they again refused, he lit into them for making his salesperson look bad. It was only when my father threatened to call the police that the manager finally unlocked his office door and let us leave the dealership.
Witnessing traumatic events like this at a formative age can be scarring. And this particular experience continued to cast its long shadow over me when it comes to the art of selling.
You see, going into that cursed interaction, intents were aligned. My parents had an interest in buying a car. The sales staff at the Toyota dealership had an interest in selling one.
But once my parents changed course, that alignment broke down. They didn’t want to buy a Camry, but the sales staff still wanted them to make the purchase. They tried every dirty trick in the book to turn a No into a Yes.
Now, all these years later, I found myself in a similar dynamic. I was tagging along while someone doggedly attempted to turn a No into a Yes.
Only this time, intents weren’t aligned. This time, the salesperson was showing up out of the blue hawking a random product. A product his audience didn’t want. And one they could likely purchase elsewhere if they changed their minds.
In both cases, the resistance of the prospective buyers was real. It wasn’t a bluff or negotiating tactic. It was the truth.
But that truth got in the way of the seller’s objectives and compensation. So, they tossed integrity aside. They waged war on their audience’s stated intentions to put another closed deal on their ledger.
They might have been able to sleep soundly at night after acting this way. But I wouldn’t.
As I write this, I’m nearing a decade of work as a professional marketer.
My roles, functions, and knowledge have changed over those years. But one thing has remained constant.
No matter what my job title has been, or the core industry I’ve supported, my employer has always featured a direct sales staff.
The sellers I’ve worked with have generally been fantastic. And people are often eager to buy the solution they’re hawking. So, as a marketer, I’ve had no qualms about supporting their efforts.
But that support comes with strings attached.
You see, I carry one lesson forward from that door-to-door sales experience. In my case, the price of integrity is infinite.
I refuse to sell myself out for a quick buck. And I refuse to sell anyone else out by walking all over their resistance.
This means two things for me.
First, I will not work in sales roles. The chances of a moral crisis are too high, particularly when my financial solvency is on the line. Much respect to all the above-board sellers out there, but the discipline is not for me.
Second, I will not directly support efforts that sacrifice integrity. I don’t create marketing materials that run afoul of the truth. And if a salesperson does feel like doing some arm-twisting, I make sure to stay clear of it.
This is my mission. It’s the path I walk alone.
But it doesn’t have to remain that way. Indeed, it shouldn’t.
We can all raise the price of integrity. We can all agree to respect our intentions and to act with decency — without exception.
Such a shift might change the way we buy and sell. And it might mean that we’re talked into fewer experiences outside our comfort zone.
But such tradeoffs are worthwhile.
Indeed, if we can treat each other — and ourselves — with respect and dignity, it will truly make the world a healthier place.
And that outcome would be invaluable.