A few years ago I was desperately trying to get out of a dead end, soul-sucking call center job before I got too complacent and ended up dying, mid-call, with my headset on. After much soul searching, I decided there was only one way to assume command of my future, including my future income, and that way was sales.

I'd done cold-calling before.  I'd also worked a stint as a cemetery sales rep and to my surprise, not only liked it but was good at it.  I figured if I could sell death I could sell anything.

I asked my supervisor for a temporary part time evening schedule so I could have days free for interviewing.   Of course I didn't tell her that; I said I was having family problems. I wanted to hang on to the job in case I couldn't find anything.  The market was pretty rough.

That's how I wound up sitting in a room full of about 30 others just a few weeks later, in a brand spanking new state-of-the-art sales call center, waiting for an orientation session to begin.  We were seated at long tables and the computer in front of me had a script attached to the monitor.  I assumed we'd be practicing a little before training started the following week.

Most of us began filling out the paperwork handed to us as we filed in. Standard stuff, tax forms, direct deposit information, emergency contact phone numbers.

I felt good as I looked around the room.  I hadn't expected to land a job so quickly nor one involving inbound sales, with the leads furnished by the company.   The starting pay was excellent, there was unlimited growth potential, the building was gorgeous and the new hires in the room with me were a mix of male and female, various ethnicities.  Most of them looked to be around my age or older.   I was immensely relieved by this.  I'd been afraid I'd be working with a bunch of 20-year-olds who were faster, smarter and more technically savvy than I was.

Then a woman who introduced herself as Barb entered.   She announced she was with human resources and would be conducting the orientation.   

After she told us a little about the company and we watched a brief video, she pointed to the person closest to her and said, "Stand up and tell us about yourself; your name, your background, what brought you here." 

One by one, the new hires stood and told their stories.  Some of them had been looking for work for a long time; many of them had been laid off from managerial or administrative positions when their previous employers either cut staff or went out of business due to the economy.  

Others had quit jobs to take this one.  They'd been toiling at minimum wage fast food or clerical positions, the only kind they'd been able to find.  They were so grateful for the opportunity to finally have something to sink their teeth into.  Most of them had families.  They were living on the edge.  Getting hired here was the answer to a prayer, many of them said.  They were willing to give 110 percent and do whatever it took to be successful.

The older guy next to me was Russell.  He'd been with a bank for many years until he was let go with a bunch of others due to a department consolidation. His wife had also lost her job.   They were both working as stock clerks for Target to make ends meet, but that hadn't been going so well. He had a kid in college and two in high school.  He and his wife had depleted their savings accounts and liquidated their 401k plans to stay afloat.  They'd borrowed money from family members they couldn't repay.  The house was in foreclosure.

"We went out to eat for the first time in months when I found out I'd gotten this job," Russell told the group.  "We'd prayed about it as a family and it came at exactly the right time."

After we'd all told our stories, Barb thanked us, then said, "Okay, now it's time for the second interview.  We'll dismiss you in pairs."

She quickly left the room and two tough-looking guys in leather jackets  came in and began pointing at people, then ushering them out.  They looked like bouncers.

Russell and I looked at each other in confusion.

"Did she say 'second interview'?" I asked him.

"She sure did," said Russell. "Wonder what she meant by that."

We found out together.  The two of us were herded into an empty conference room where Barb leaned against a table.  She didn't mince words.

"I'm sorry but you two didn't make the cut," she told us.  "We can't offer you a job."

Russell and I both gaped at her.  "You're joking, right?," I said, when I finally found my voice.  "Because I distinctly remember telling Ken, my interviewer, that I accepted his offer," I told her. "We even shook hands," I added lamely.

I glanced at Russell.  He was white as a sheet and perspiring.  "No. No.  This can't be right," he was murmuring.  "I gave my notice at Target for this.  I interviewed with Ken too.  He offered me a job, I never would have quit Target if I didn't have another job lined up."

Barb's lips were pursed together and she was shaking her head.  "No one made you job offers."

"Why don't we call Ken in here," I snapped.  I gave his last name.  "I'm telling you, he offered me a job.  Do you really think we're both that stupid?"  

"We're done talking," Barb said curtly and the two thugs in leather jackets suddenly materialized.  "Do you two need help finding your way out?"

It was surreal.  Russell looked like he was in  another place.  He was talkng to himself and shaking his head. I grabbed his arm and said, "Let's get out of here."  I maneuvered him out of the room and into the lobby, the two guys following on our heels.  What did they think two middle-aged people were going to do?  

As we headed toward the exit, the people from our orientation were streaming out of other rooms in pairs.  Some looked stunned, one or two were openly crying, and one was swearing loudly. 

Russell and I stopped just outside the building where another woman from the session was smoking a cigarette.  "You too?"  she said to us.

"What the hell just went on in there?" I asked her.

She shrugged.  "I have no idea.  Never had anything like that happen to me before," she said.  "But at least I have something else lined up. Not as good as this one sounded but I'm glad I didn't tell them 'no.' "

She stubbed out her cigarette against the company's logo on the glass door and gave the receptionist the finger.

"Feel kinda sorry for some of those others, though.   Pretty shitty what they did to us.  Makes me wonder what kind of scam they're running."  Then she walked away.

Russell looked like he was in a trance.  "Can you drive," I asked him.  After a second he nodded.

"How am I going to tell my family about this," he said, more to himself than to me.  "How am I going to explain this.  They did offer us a job, didn't they?"

"Yes Russell, they offered us jobs," I told him, patting his arm.  He was still sitting behind the wheel of his car, staring straight ahead and talking to himself as I drove away.

Then I went home, called my supervisor and begged her to take me back full time.  It took several weeks.  And because they'd filled my daytime position I was stuck on nights and weekends.  But at least I had a job. 

I never learned what happended or why that company deliberately misled almost 30 people into thinking they were beginning the opportunity of a lifetime.  I don't know what became of Russell or any of them.  

But I do know it's the one and only time I've ever been able to identify with the concept of "going postal." Every time I remembered the stricken faces of the people coming out of the other rooms, and how just minutes before they'd been on Cloud 9, I wanted to jump in my car, go back to that fancy building, and lay waste to it and everyone inside.