Minutes ago, I had a young duo of gentlemen walk in. One of them approached me and immediately opened up with this: "I've been shot down everywhere I've been today, and I'm probably going to be shot down here, but are you hiring?"
Hold your thoughts for a moment, because I'm going to revisit Johnny Job-Seeker in a moment. I want to take you back in time five years to when I first met my boss, the owner of the shop I now manage. I had just become "a man", and was attending the University of Central Florida. It donned on me one day that I should do something with my new found age of majority, like buy a lottery ticket, or visit a strip joint. Neither of those sounded like fiscally sound decisions, so I settled for a cigar, instead.
My roommate and I performed a Google search for the nearest cigar shops. I'd previously had my dealings with Swisher Sweets and GAME foil-packs and the like, but I was looking to up my ante to a premium hand-rolled job and really start enjoying what a real cigar was.
I tore off the metaphorical sheaf of paper from the Bat-Cave computer and fixed my eyes on the list. The closest shop was in a nearby mall.
To the Bat-Mobile!
We headed out to the Marketplace and stepped in the Tinderbox franchise where I met my good friend (the one who owns my shop). He stuck me on an Acid Kuba Kuba, analyzing my punk-ass garments to be an indicator that I had no taste.
He was half right.
After a few more visits, a few more Acids, I hungered for something else. So I dove into Mild-Medium naturals: Macanudos and Romeo Reserva Reals, etc.
A few of those and he decided to share with me a project he had been working on. Something which closely emulated the Cuban flavor of Tobacco. I was hooked.
Later that month, I was looking for a job, so I threw on some more respectable clothes and went cruising around, submitting my applications. Denied everywhere for the most part, I stopped by that Tinderbox again to regroup with a cigar. On a whim, I asked him,
"Hey CJ, is there any chance you might hire me?"
"I'm closing this shop, but when I open up in my new location, yeah, absolutely."
I was stunned.
We solidified details, and a few months later, I signed on with him at my current location, and started quickly learning the trade. These days, I can identify from flavor the country of origin, age, and priming of the plant. I've come a long way.
But I didn't have that attitude that Johnny Job-Seeker did. I knew it was a longshot, but I went in with no predisposition. Even though I asked knowing it was unlikely, I accepted that there was no reason not to hire me. I developed a relationship before asking for something as personal as hiring me to keep shop.
So that's it. I get a lot of people like this kid who just walked in. They come in, without buying anything, showing no interest in my area of industry at all and casually ask for a job while wearing ripped jeans and a backwards baseball cap. What do I look like, a Hollister? I've built my image around myself, and they strolled in, prefabricated, and asked if I would hire them because they have a lot of experience smoking hookah.
I can't fathom carrying on so carelessly.
I'm done stroking my ego for the moment, so here's the thing. If you want my job, here's how it goes:
- Build industry knowledge. Johnny couldn't name one brand of premium handmade long-filler cigar. Not one. Romeo and Juliet, Ashton, Fuente... not one. I would expect a hire-ready candidate to have knowledge not just that the brands exist, but about their products.
- Build your image. Most of my clients are above 35. They have the exact impression of people my age that you would expect. We're punks, unless we can prove otherwise. If you're younger than thirty, you better carry yourself like an adult when you walk in and ask if you can leave your resume on my counter. That brings me to:
- Build a resume. This isn't McDonald's, Home Depot or Old Navy. I do not have a job application that you can fill out and get a call back next week. If you don't have a resume, you're not yet an adult (see my previous point). The tobacco industry is, by nature, and Adult Industry. So be prepared to meet it's challenges with all the Adult Trappings.
- Build a relationship. This is my final point. Tobacco Shops are usually small. Often times, there's one dude working these small businesses at a time. As you can imagine, there's a very high demarcation of trust required for someone to put that key in your hand and say 'You're closing tonight.' but that's exactly what my boss does every time we have a new hire. He, and I, must trust these new people implicitly before we trust them to manage the register, the deposits, and the merchandise alone, from their very first day. So naturally, most people that walk through our door looking for a job are going to be disappointed when they find out that we're not hiring.
Of those four blocks, building a relationship is the hardest. Going into a shop weekly and buying a cigar will not cut it. Sit down, have a smoke, and have a conversation with the guy behind the counter. Make sure he acknowledges you as a human being and not just a customer. I check out hundreds of people a week who expect me to remember their names and flavor preferences. Unfortunately, I usually retain neither. My good regulars, however, I often remember their wives's birthdays before they do. It's all about that relationship, and it's not easy.
So there you have it. I've vented.
My apologies of this comes across as an ego-stroking adventure in yelling at college kids, but my hope was that my irritation might found something that's actually helpful to someone, somewhere.
Case in point, if you walk into my shop asking if we're hiring and request a job application while dressed in a backwards baseball cap and Minecraft T-Shirt, then respond to my inquiries about your tobacco experience with a joke about how much hookah you can smoke, I will probably tell you to get fucked.
-Ephram Rafael Nadaner
Current Smoke: Perla Del Mar, Toro size.
