This week's WRR&W deals with the joys of worklife, and is dedicated to anyone who has ever had to work for someone else. It's not a job, it's an exercise in frustration.*My first full-time job was as a commission salesperson at what was then the world's largest retailer. I sold atomotive parts and accessories, including batteries, engines, transmissions, air conditioners, brakes, etc, etc. It was actually a pretty good gig, and since commission rates in the early 1970s were very respectable, an average person like myself could make a nice living without having an advanced degree or a well-connected relative. By the 1980s, Kmart, and then Wal-Mart, had convinced a lot of shoppers that cheap junk was better than quality merchandise, and that having trained salespeople around to assist customers wasn't nearly as efficient as letting people fend for themselves. Besides, everyone loves to stand in a checkout line for 45 minutes to purchase a quart of oil, especially if they've saved 2 cents! Today, my former company teeters on the brink of insolvency while the junk stores of the world peddle ever more junky crap assembled by slave labor in some "worker's paradise" across the ocean. Now that's progress.
*My current 'career' is in pharmaceutical sales. I know, I know, everyone believes the drug companies are robbing the sick and the elderly with inflated prices while making enormous profits. It is true that some very popular prescription drugs are very expensive, but the industry is not in all that rosy a shape. There have been some major financial failures as medicines that were being developed didn't pan out as the companies had hoped. Bayer lost the cholesterol drug Baycol to recall, AstraZeneca had a couple of expected blockbusters fizzle, Merck is paying out hundreds-of-millions to settle claims against Vioxx, and the industry as a whole is suffering from an oversupply of sales reps, a scarcity of new meds in the pipeline, and a tarnished public image. If we ever end up with a government-run healthcare system, it will be lights out.
*That being said, life as a drug rep is pretty much like any other sales job. Customers don't want to see you, there's tremendous pressure put on reps to sell product at all costs, and on any given day, 20-30 other reps are trying to influence the same people you are. I figure it's sort of like being a leper. Every time you approach someone, they throw their hands up and yell, "Unclean, unclean!"
*Another fun aspect is the monthly ride-a-long with your manager. Several years ago, the day consisted of having your boss tag along for the day, compliment you on your successes, offer constructive suggestions, and buy you a nice lunch. Today, with the sheer number of competitors to contend with, reps are pushed to make more calls, be more assertive (Read: Jerk), and "move the numbers" by just about any means necessary. As a result, the ride-a-long has become deadly serious. Woe be to the poor slob who has a bad day or gets a lot of doors slammed in his/her face. And then, just as the outing is mercifully drawing to an end, you have to endure the dreaded 'Post-ride-along evaluation', or as we in the industry affectionately refer to it as "The reaming". One rep described his boss's assessment remarks as "Nice hair-you suck- nice shoes". Wow, I'd KILL for a great e-val like that!
*The poor image the drug industry endures also means LOTS of people sitting in doctor's offices get a shot at us while we're waiting with them in the lobby. Most folks are very nice, but I regularly get dirty looks, and some people are bold enough to insult you to your face. The fact that we supply them with thousands of dollars of free medicine doesn't mollify these critics, and since we dress professionally and drive new cars, we stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. Of cousre, it could be worse. I could be a pump jockey at a gas station. With $3-a-gallon prices, it's probably a safety measure that very few stations have employees out at the point of sale.
*After all my crabbing, I wanted to end this week's column on a lighter note. There are plenty of people out there with worse jobs than mine: English teacher in France, judge in Baghdad, Cher's plastic surgeon, the list goes on and on. The utter inanity of work was probably best summed up by Will Farrell the other day when he reminded his audience that we celebrate Labor Day by NOT working. I really think he's got something there! See ya next week!!
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