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CHAPTER III
Jobs Through Employment Agencies

Our first jobs came through employment agencies right in our own home town. They were the natural medium to which any unemployed person would turn. And we wanted to find out for ourselves exactly what sort of help job seekers—particularly the older type—could expect to get through this avenue.

We found out. And we kept on finding! Every city we visited on our job hunt added to our knowl­edge of agencies. At every stop we always applied at several, sometimes contacting three or four, or more. It was an illuminating experience, which yielded good hard facts for the guidance of the job hunter.

When we made our first planned trips to em­ployment bureaus, we little dreamed of the depths of our ignorance. These agencies were selected at random from the business listings in the back of...

the telephone book. We picked five apiece. Read­ing the ads about skilled executive assistants and office workers, about technical help and all manner of high class employees, most of them sounded so much alike that we thought the choice did not matter.

But that point was cleared up in short order. We now strongly feel that it does take some expert looking to find the right agency. However, once found, it is a nugget of gold. It is something to tie to—and to stay tied to.

For there are agencies and agencies. Many of them are top hole. They give an astonishing and superlative service, and are about the finest luck that could possibly happen to the person without employment. Others of them are good, manned by pleasant and agreeable persons, and they do for their clients a better-than-average job. But a few of them are beyond the pale! If what was handed to us was a sample of their service, we pity the other applicants.

Perhaps in these latter cases it was we who were at fault. There is no way of knowing. There is not even any question of censure here. The only point is jobs. Applicants need jobs. And when it came to job help, for us these agencies fell completely short.

The fact now stands clear and definite. It is not a question of making a good agency connection, but of finding the good agency with which to connect.

One point more, and that concerns our manner of telling the tale. The we of the agencies and of all our job search is always editorial. Together we discussed ways and means, did all our planning and groundwork. But when it came to the actual visit, it was only one or the other of us alone.

We certainly cut our eye teeth on visit number one. In the telephone book the agency had run a good sized ad that caught our attention and made us feel we had struck pay dirt.

We approached its shining portals with a feeling high excitement. Here was our first attempt to crush the forty phobia. Here was our first test of the job formula. We had to make this visit count.

We opened the door, and found ourself in a large room. A battery of chairs lined one wall, and most of them were occupied by a rather listless looking company of men and women. A good sized table was in the center of the room, and around it people were seated, writing—filling out applications. A narrow third of the apartment was cut off, .ind made into a series of cubicles—each with its…

door half shut, and with some sort of executive busy at a desk. We took one of the wall chairs and sat down to wait our turn.

To the initiate, our procedure doubtless sounds very naive. But it chanced that we had never got­ten jobs through an agency before. And how were we to know that we should get an application blank first of all? So we just sat, wondering what would happen and how soon it would begin.

Time passed, and the whole line of us remained like graven images. Suddenly a tall girl opened the entrance door, looked about the room questioningly for a moment, then made straight for one of the cubicles. Her move was almost like a signal. It was as if she said: "Don't wait—go on in!" Four or five of us others jumped to our feet and rushed for the little rooms. We ourself tried the one that was the next to the last.

The austere looking woman inside continued her writing until we ventured: "I beg your pardon."

Then she looked up, and asked: "Well?"

"I should like to talk to you about a job," we said.

"How long since you have had a job?" she in­quired.

"Three years," we answered.

"Too long out of work! We have nothing for you." She turned back to the papers on her desk. She was all through with us. Condemned and found guilty without the benefit of a trial.

But not without the testimony of the witness. For the treatment that had been so summarily accorded to us might just as easily have befallen someone else. So far as we were concerned, there was no personal animus whatever. But so far as forty and jobless were concerned, we had some­thing to say. And we said it.

"Not so fast, if you please." We just stood, look­ing at her.

She laid her pencil down and gave us a stare of surprise. But she said nothing.

We, however, were at no loss for words. "You don't know who I am, or what I have done," we continued. "For all you know, when I walk out this door, your agency will lose forever one of its best possible customers. Did you ever read Acres Of Diamonds?

We paused for breath, and the woman said: "What kind of work did you do when you worked?"

We had been employed in an office, we told her,...

doing secretarial work and filing. Then she unbent somewhat, and began to talk about our possibili­ties. But she interrupted herself; once, to polish off another applicant, and a second time, to re­mark that we just ought to see the type of people she had to interview. She finally made a suggestion. We were to get an application, fill it out, and come back to see her after lunch. We left it at that.

Riding down in the elevator, our feeling was that nothing had been accomplished there either for the older or any of the other jobless. We thought: "This sort of experience tears you down, so that you could not have a good interview with a prospective employer even if you had the chance." But we did not yet have any idea whether the agency was typical or not. So we began to stack others beside it.

There was the personnel broker with whom we had not even been able to obtain an interview. We entered his domain one bright spring morning at nine-fifteen. There were two outside doors, each bearing the name of the agency in wide gold letters. On one door in smaller type was the ap­pealing word female, on the other, male. We swung open the female door and found ourself in a very busy mart.

Our part of the room was separated from the men's by a beaverboard wall perhaps seven feet high. But we could hear the same hum of activity on the other side, too. We sat down in a vacant chair, meanwhile keeping our eyes open for someone in authority. Before long, a young man laden with papers emerged from some recess.  He was too rushed to stop and hear what we were saying. After several abortive attempts, we were finally listened to long enough to be told that we should have to wait and they would take us when they could.

We tried for two patient hours to fit into the cosmic plan of the agency, and then withdrew. The reason for this retreat is such a sound one that it is worth some discussion.

Our whole job hunting philosophy is based on the point of view of the person who wants the job. Confidence and assurance, enthusiasm and spirit, conviction of value for someone else, are, to our minds, the big stock in trade possible to the jobless. They are the beacons that make the employer single out one person while he passes by a dozen others.

In our own case, we had entered that room in a happy, hopeful, encouraged frame of mind. If we could have met an employer then, and in such a...

mood, we believed that we should have had at least a fighting chance. But not at the end of two hours! After repeated rebuffs, being constantly ignored, and just sitting there with nothing to do, our per­sonality had been reduced to a practical zero.

Did we hear someone make a comment? Did we hear someone say: "That's all very well. You could leave. But how about us? We couldn't! We would have to stay on and on and wait for that interview on the thin chance of it meaning a job."

But you are the very one about whom we are thinking. Why have all your spirit and eagerness drained out if you can help it? There are other agencies—marvelous ones—and they build you up. They are so good that they are worth any trouble it may take to find them. So perhaps you, too, do not have to stay.

On the other hand if you feel that it is to your best interest to stand by, don't sit by the hour and just plain wait. That is, of course, unless you are tired, and the waiting rests you. But if waiting does to you what it does to us, it is to be avoided at all cost. On occasion, we fell back on crossword puz­zles, and magazines to make the time pass pleas­antly until the powers-that-be were ready to give us a hearing.

But on the whole, when we met either of the…

two types of agencies we have just discussed—the indifferent one or the ill-organized one—we knew without further ado that there was nothing for us. So we would turn on our heel and walk right out.

There was a third type, too, that we learned to pass up. Here, the personnel was sometimes pleasant enough, but without the imagination that makes an applicant a living person, and his or her problem a compelling need. There was a lackadaisical, inattentive, or even hard boiled atti­tude that made the interview just dribble to noth­ingness, and finally die.

But now come the gems! And the heartening tidings brought from them. One of the choicest of these agencies was a specialized bureau managed entirely by one woman. She conducted her busi­ness alone, in two attractive rooms. One was a large waiting room with fresh magazines piled on a table, and a flower box on a window ledge. The persons who were occupying her comfortable chairs immediately brought the word Clients to our mind. Doubtless they were just as much in need of work as those in some of the other agencies we had visited. But the difference in their reception seemed to make a difference in their posture and attitude.

There were three ahead of us. But the moment…

the manager came out with the person whom she had been interviewing and had told her good-by, she stepped over to us and said: "I hope you don't mind waiting like this. If you have any little er­rand you want to do, I think we could save your turn."

Her manner was considerate and charming. To her we were somebody—an individual to be reck­oned with and catered to. Her courtesy took all tedium from the wait, and we looked forward to the interview with keen anticipation.

The last person before us was an attractive look­ing girl. She had a good figure and carried herself well. But to our mind, she looked a bit theatrical in her dress. From her ears dangled long white earrings, on her head was a large white hat, and her lips were the proverbial rubies.

Her interview lasted about half an hour, and she emerged laughing. The woman was speaking to her in such quiet tones that no one else could have heard a word. But the girl had no such reti­cence. "I'll get rid of them," she was saying. "I'll take them off right now." And she unfastened the dramatic earrings and slipped them into her purse.

There was another word from her adviser, and another little peal of laughter from the girl. "You…

talk just like my mother," she continued. "I prom­ise you. I'll wear a little black sports hat, and I won't have too much make-up on either. I'll be just right."

It was now our turn, and we walked in. The room we entered was small and cozy. The floor was well carpeted, and there was a feeling of leisureliness and order.

The woman at the desk fitted her background. She was slim and erect, with her hair softly gray. Finding her so serene and successful, we had a strong feeling of the hopefulness of the picture for over forty.

Her manner suggested that there really were jobs, and that we could pick and choose a little if we felt so inclined. Almost her first words were: "What kind of position did you have in mind?"

We had a close friend, who was very much up against it. So for a very definite purpose (which later bore fruit), we used her complete background as our own. We had been a bank secretary, we said. For sixteen years we had held the same position with the senior vice president. Now he had died, and the man who succeeded him had his own sec­retary. There was no position left for us.

"That is an interesting background," she com-…

...mented. "But is there any other kind of work you would like to do?"

We explained that our former position had brought quite a good deal of executive work our way. It seemed to us, then, that we were fitted to take a position as office manager of a small busi­ness, or that we could occupy a minor executive job that called for an ability to handle people.

Then she asked us several questions. We made our answers as direct as possible, and as telling as we knew how. For we were trying to see how our own attitude of eagerness, and spirit, and confi­dence would help in getting a job through an em­ployment agency. We had planned all along just the points we should make, when—and if—we ever had a regular, bona fide interview.

When we had finished, the manager said: "You know, I believe I will be able to get something for you. But it won't necessarily be secretarial work."

We stopped her at that point, for here was some­thing we wanted to find out. "You mean that I could not get a secretarial job?" we asked.

"Why, no! I certainly should not say that. It might just happen that tomorrow I would get a call from a banker for someone with exactly your qualifications. But there are not many calls like…

that right now. Tell me, how do you get on with elderly people?"

Very well, we assured her. We were very patient with them. The old-fashioned idea of honoring age had been instilled into us in childhood.

Then she told us what she had in mind. There was a small, select, privately managed home for elderly women. The job was assistant to the super­visor. It entailed sorting and distributing the mail, taking up with the women any problems that bothered them, and being generally useful in mak­ing the place run smoothly.

"Now don't get the notion that it is going to be too easy," she explained. "Old persons can get pretty rambunctious, you know. There is this, too. The supervisor seems a little difficult to suit. It is only fair to tell you that I have sent two other persons to be interviewed by her, and neither has gotten across. Yet she says that she wants someone immediately. Why don't you go now and talk to her?

The upshot of it was that we left the employ­ment manager with the understanding that we would telephone her after the interview, which­ever way it turned out.

However, just before we started, we got further…

insight into the helpfulness of that agency. The woman looked us over carefully and said: "I don't see a thing about you that she could take excep­tion to. You are refined, and you are as neat as a pin. But there is one point to remember. I under­stand that supervisor has some strong views on re­ligion. Don't let yourself become involved in any religious discussion. Now, good luck!"

Whenever possible, our policy was to do as much as we could in the way of preparation. In this in­stance, we could do nothing except work on the approach. Since the supervisor had already refused two who were well qualified, it might be that she had a rigid personality that made her difficult to please. We resolved, therefore, to take our cue from her, and to be a sort of echo if necessary.

That proved the right method. The woman was the original righteous soul—tall and spare. She might not be much fun on a motor trip, but she would be fair and loyal to the last ditch. She knew to an iota the sort of respect due her from an as­sistant. So we were quiet in manner, and unobtru­sive. We had little to say beyond answering ques­tions. When she asked for details, we gave them. When she did not, we did not. When she stopped talking after a while, we sat perfectly still and silent…

until she was ready to resume.

We could not guess what impression we were making until she spoke. "You know the salary," she said. "It is fifty a month. You have your room. You have your meals, and one weekend off a month. All right, have your things back here by nine tomorrow morning."

The job was ours. But we could not let the em­ployment agency down by refusing it. Neither of course, could we accept it. However, we were pre­pared to meet that contingency. So now we gave the sentence that we thought might save the situ­ation.

"Just one thing," we said. "I have a young daughter fifteen who is boarding with her aunt. Would you have any objection if she came out and spent her weekends with me?"

The woman's expression changed completely.

"That would not suit us at all!" she said shortly. "We have very strict rules about visitors."

Well, that took care of it. In two minutes the job was gone from us, and ready and waiting for another candidate.

In being carefully schooled for that interview, we felt that our employment specialist friend was giving us an unusual service. That was true, of…

course. But as we traveled from city to city and contacted many other bureaus we were to find out that, while her service was unusual, it most cer­tainly was not unique. Time and again we were to have proof of the very close and sympathetic tie that bound the agency and the applicant. We were also to marvel at the strong personalized contact that existed between employer and the agency— a contact which often made it possible to know to the veriest detail what was or was not expected from the prospect sent out for the fateful interview.

There was, for instance, the episode of the cleri­cal job in a hospital in a western Pennsylvania city. Because of the rain of soft coal soot, we had worn to the agency a plain dark blue dress, without the usual white touches.

The agency manager had outlined all the pos­sible pitfalls of the coming interview with the hos­pital superintendent. Then he said: "Couldn't you put some kind of white doodad at your neck in­stead of that fancy pin? And how about a white handkerchief instead of a colored one? Just little things, I know, but this superintendent happens to be very fussy." We got that job.

We were primed successfully for the position of floor clerk in a large hotel that was one of a chain.

For that interview the employment head tempo­rarily assumed the role of hotel manager and asked us just the questions that he felt sure would be put to us. One was: "What sort of a memory have you for faces?"

The reason for this question, he carefully ex­plained, was due to the definite responsibility at­tached to this job. Whenever a key is requested, the floor clerk must be very sure that she is deliver­ing it to the guest who is at that time the occupant of the room. With the constant comings and goings of people in a large transient hotel and the danger of interlopers, her mind and eyes must be ever on the alert.

Other questions concerned our tact and level headedness and good nature in dealing with a high-tension traveling public. Our dependability in getting messages clear and in seeing that they were properly delivered was especially underscored.

In the course of this coaching he pepped us up by stating that the hotel field was an excellent one for the older woman. For here were especially valu­able the

qualifications that maturity brings and that youth does not always have. Even in the case in which the job applicant did not have the per­sonality aptitudes for meeting the public there…

were good opportunities in the linen room for the woman apt with the needle, and for the woman with executive ability there were possibilities in the housekeeping department.

In other agencies we occasionally overheard others getting helpful and very detailed sugges­tions. A man was tactfully told to wear a white shirt instead of a dark blue one. Another was ad­vised to have a broken tooth mended and make arrangements to pay his dentist out of future earn­ings. Once we even saw an employment manager lend his hat to a bare-headed man to spruce him up for an interview.

The next agency was a small one. Here it was an advertising copy job, the type of position in which we happened to have had actual experience.

The man who talked to us said: "I suppose that you have a pretty fancy salary in mind?"

We assured him we had not.

"Good!" was his comment. "That's a mistake a lot of people make. They forget that during a de­pression a person is worth exactly what he can get. You'd be surprised at the people who scarcely have the price of a meal, and yet who actually turn down jobs because they are not satisfied with the pay."

He then asked if we could do shorthand as well as write copy.

We said that we could.

"There's a little job where they need someone right away," he said. "It's a small mail order house. You would be in charge of the office, and have all the customer mail to handle. Then you'd have to help on the catalogue, and get up some little direct mail pieces yourself. Do you think you would be able to handle all this?"

Our answer was a strong affirmative. A discus­sion of our experience followed, and the various demands of the job. At the end he said: "You'll do. That is, if twenty-five a week would suit you. I know this fellow so well that I can almost guarantee you the job."

He picked up the telephone, and had a very spirited conversation with a man called Joe. Our good points were mentioned in no uncertain terms, and without the slightest feeling of reticence at our presence. It gave us a rather uncanny reaction to get such a close up of ourself.

"Sure, she's got the stuff!" "Yes, voice okay." "No! No flat heeled shoes or mannish clothes." "Sure! I know the kind of person you want, Joe."

Presently, he put his hand over the mouthpiece and said: "Joe wants to see you. He says he'll take you. You hop over there right now and talk to him." We nodded, and he turned back to the tele­phone. "I am sending her over, Joe," he said. Then suddenly his expression changed. "What's that? Wait a minute! You told me twenty-five a week, not twenty. I wouldn't have the nerve to offer this girl twenty. Sure, I'll call you back."

"Don't worry, that's Joe's way," he said to us. "He'll come across. You come back here tomorrow and I'll get you that job for twenty-five."

Well, we had done the agencies, and we had managed to keep our pledge with ourselves: For we had found jobs. Not high salaried jobs, not high sounding jobs. But good jobs that would keep food on the table and fill the days with work. We felt, too, that we had gotten some pretty significant facts as to why we had been able to land those jobs. Our attitude was to grasp at anything, no matter how little it was, just so it was a chance. We had learned and capitalized the new and tremendous impor­tance of personality—the enthusiastic, responsive viewpoint that made employers want to have you around.

And there was a final point that may have had…