Sales Job

My current job search reminded me of a phone call I once received from a headhunter — sorry, executive search firm — pitching a creative director position at an ad agency in Kansas. (I'm an advertising writer and magazine/newspaper editor). I don't remember how he got my name, but from the moment I said hello he was pitching the position vigorously. The agency was great, he said, the work was strong, the atmosphere was friendly and the community was wonderful. I'd be challenged, I'd grow professionally, my family would love the community.

At one point I broke into his conversational stream to ask what the salary was. He kept talking as if I hadn't interrupted him. I asked again, and he ignored again. And again.

Finally, he'd run out of glowing things to say about the agency, the community, the cleanliness of the air, the four seasons of recreational opportunities, the good schools and non existent traffic. It appeared to be heaven without the wings and harps. Once again I asked about the salary.

He paused. "You do realize," he said, his voice deepening and becoming serious, as if he was about to share a closely held, valuable secret with me, "that the cost of living is much lower in Kansas?"

My reply: "Are you asking me to take a pay cut to move to Kansas?"

He danced around my question, but the answer was yes.

Now, I have nothing against Kansas. But to ask my wife to give up her career here, ask our children to give up their schools and friends and everything familiar to them, uproot ourselves and move would have to be for the job of a lifetime. Granted, we might be able to get a much nicer house for much less money, but food, cars and gas would still cost the same, and retirement would still require roughly the same amount of money.

I turned him down and, for the first time, he dropped his salesman persona and became himself. "Damn," he said. "I can't get anyone interested in this job."

Apparently, I was not his first choice.