Through a tip from a friend, I learned that you could walk into the Arrowhead Spring Water building and they’d hire you on the spot to sit at a desk in a broom closet and call people over and over again, asking if they would like to try bottled water in their home for free. For free. All I had to do was give something away for absolutely nothing and they’d give me five dollars cash for everyone who said yes.
I could work my own hours. No minimum, no limit. As I figured it, paying no rent, all I needed was twenty bucks a day to live like a king. That’s four yeses, for giving something away for free. No problem.
They handed me a call script and a few photocopied sheets of phone numbers sorted by address. The best time to call was when people were home, after five-thirty or so. Unfortunately, this is also the time when people are weary, grumpy, hungry, or already eating.
I’d sit in my little booth and start at the top. No sense picking out lucky names or familiar streets. Just start at the top.
“Hello, is this the Pindiquerano residence?… Yes?… Ah, good. I’m calling from Arrowhead Bottled Water compa— CLICK.”
That one gets a stripe of pink highlighter for “fuck you.” Next.
“Hello, is this the Wendling residence?… No?… They moved, I see… Well, I’m calling from the Arrowhead Bottled Wa— wait, wait. I know, I’m sorry. Look, do you want free bottled water for two weeks, no obligat— OK… thank you.”
And it went on like that for hours. I was amazed at how many people wouldn’t take something for free, even if just to help a starving soon-to-be Classics scholar make a little beer money. I even tried honesty:
“Hello. Look, I know this is an annoying, intrusive call and I truly am sorry to bother you. I get five bucks for every person I can get to accept two weeks of bottled water, no strings attached… what’s that?… OK. Yessir.”
I never made more than twenty-five dollars and that was twice. Usually I walked out with ten, maybe fifteen on a Friday when people were in a good mood because it was payday.
I would have quit immediately but for two reasons.
First, there was this guy Todd who would work for about an hour and a half and walk out with at least thirty bucks every time. Sometimes he’d come in, nail four in twenty minutes, and split — off to the same bar where I was heading, had I not been told to go to hell seventeen times. The smug son of a bitch would never tell me his secret, and believe me, he had one, because nobody else of the six or seven people working there could touch his numbers. I’d ask for just a pointer, one lousy tip, and he would say nothing but give me a sanctimonious smile as he headed for the door.
Second, my boss was usually across the street at happy hour, which meant I could sneak a few beers in my backpack. May as well loosen up while being chewed out.
Still, there was only so much I could take. I wasn’t making any money when it boiled down to it, so I quit. I never did crack Todd’s secret. It haunts me to this day.
