BOSTON. It’s eight a.m. on a cool summer day, and Adrienne Klein is looking forward to her iced latte before making the trip down Winter Street to the office building where she works as a secretary to an insurance underwriter at Modern Moosehead Indemnity. “I hate my job and I hate my boss,” she says as she adds an artificial sweetener to the drink. “I need this brief moment of pleasure before I’m tortured with stupid scutwork all day.”
Big *yawn* insurance company building.
Just as she takes her first sip Lyle Zakov appears over her shoulder wearing a blue polo shirt bearing the logo of Freedom Financial and attempts to bring her back from her caffeine-induced reverie to the mundane world of consumer finance.
“Excuse me, would you like to apply for a credit card?” Zakov says to the young woman’s deaf ears since she is wearing headphones and listening to music. When he realizes he hasn’t penetrated through the fog of her early-morning routine, he steps around in front of her and repeats his question in a louder voice.
“I see you’re enjoying your coffee–can I bother you with some really tiny print?”
“What?” Klein asks once she realizes the uniformed “Coffee Associate” is talking to her.
“Sorry, didn’t see your earbuds,” Zakov says in a friendly, apologetic tone. “I was wondering if you’d like to apply for a Freedom Financial +1 Credit Card?”
Klein looks at the man as if he’s daft, then speaks. “What kind of lunatic would go to a coffee shop to apply for a credit card? I get them in the mail every freaking day.”
“Just sign here, and you’ll be whisked away to the mother ship for some full body cavity probes.”
Zakov gives the now slightly-irritated young woman a brief history of the joint marketing scheme first developed by CapitalOne Bank with Peet’s, the Berkeley, California, based gourmet coffee chain. “The idea is to make the process of incurring a ton of debt more pleasant than it would be at a traditional bank,” he says.
“Yeah, but at the same time you’re ruining the experience of going to a coffee shop,” she replies, with no sign of warming to his sales pitch.
“Well, there is that,” Zakov says, “but anyway, we offer a great deal,” he continues, hoping to meet his sales goal for the month with persuasion.
“I think I already have enough credit cards,” Klein replies and starts to re-insert her earphones, but Zakov isn’t giving up, and he persists like a pit bull with its teeth in the leg of a toddler.
“You must think I’m dumb or something.”
“What rates?” he asks, using a trick he learned in sales training; avoid “yes or no” questions, and try to delve into a prospect’s personal life.
“I dunno, what everybody else pays I guess.”
“Let me see,” Zakov says. “May I?” he asks, as he points at Klein’s purse.
“Okay,” she says, and she withdraws two credit cards from her Kate Spade wallet.
“Wow,” Zakov says.
“What’s wrong?” Klein asks, showing concerned interest for the first time.
“These have really crappy rates,” Zakov says.
“Like what?”
“Eighteen and twenty percent.”
“So that’s bad?”
“You bet it is–at Freedom Financial, our rate is 24%!”
“Gosh,” Klein says. “That’s a pretty big difference. How can you do that and still make money?”
“We incorporated in Nevada, where there’s no limit!”
“Hi Bob, could you come notarize some documents, some folks want to mortgage their children’s future.”
“Huh,” Klein says, her attention divided like Caesar’s Gaul into three parts; her need to get to work, her desire to finish her drink, and the cloudbank of numbers that has blown in on Zakov’s breath.
“So what do you think–can I sign you up?” he says when he sees his opening appear.
“I wasn’t really looking for a credit card today.”
“That’s the beauty of the bank-in-a-bakery concept!” Zakov says as he pushes a clipboard and a pen in front of her. “You get all cozy with a great espresso drink, and then you do something really stupid financially.”
“Well, I guess I could use a little extra purchasing power,” Klein says as she begins to check boxes saying that she is single, doesn’t own a home, and doesn’t skydive, drag race or compete in a candlepin bowling league.
Candlepin bowling: Fun for the whole family!
“Thanks,” Zakov says when she hands him back the completed form and takes her leave. “Sorry to disturb your early morning coffee.”
“That’s okay I guess,” Klein says, “it’ll still be cold when I get to work.”
The young Willy Loman looks after her as she goes, then nods knowingly at the importance of the step she has taken. “My generation, we’re just like the politicians tell us,” he says. “We’re really smart, and we’re making really wise decisions.”
I’d think this was funnier if it didn’t seem just a bit too true to life.
massage therapists would be a great place to have credit card applications. Get rejected, they make you really feel so much better.