Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, April 11, 1994 TAG: 9404110053
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: DOUGLAS A. CAMPBELL KNIGHT-RIDDER NEWSPAPERS
DATELINE: PHILADELPHIA LENGTH: Medium
Dressed like a bank teller, he carried a sign of his own.
"Recent college graduate seeks employment opportunity," the sign read.
Jeff Lee, three months out of Old Dominion University, wanted a job.
Whether the Collingswood, N.J., resident would get hired by handing resumes through the partially lowered car windows of groggy commuters depended on several factors.
Would the rain, which came in waves of thunder and lightning at 4 a.m., return and wash away Lee's strategy?
Would the young man with a degree in sports medicine jump too late and be run down by a type A motorist?
Would the police, whose efforts frequently fail to deter street people and never bother newspaper hawkers who approach the same motorists, drive Lee away?
Each time the light turned red and the hissing of wet tires ceased, Lee, in a gray business suit, white shirt, red tie, gold-rimmed glasses and black wingtip shoes, moved along the nearest file of cars, sign in one hand, resume in the other, a tentative smile on his clean-shaven face.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Lee graduated from Old Dominion in Norfolk, Va., in December, returned to Collingswood, and in January started looking for a job. He signed up with a temporary employment agency, getting mall jobs a few hours a week. And he read the help-wanted ads and replied to many opportunities. But he got nothing, save a handful of respectful postcards that said things like "we are in the process of reviewing resumes" and "we will keep your resume on file for one year."
One year. A long wait when your life stretches out before you.
Moreover, Lee knew he was not alone in looking for jobs.
"I was trying to think of a way that I could separate myself from all of these candidates. If you look at any job opportunity that's in the paper, you might have 100 or more candidates. All the personnel people see is two pieces of paper - a cover letter and a resume."
Recently, Lee and some pals were at a Center City Philadelphia pub, and the talk was about jobs. Several of Lee's friends had jobs. None could help him find work, though.
Half joking, Lee brought up the Benjamin Franklin Bridge option.
It was an idea he had been mulling. He figured he needed a place where a high volume of traffic stopped.
"You see the guys who panhandle there," Lee said, explaining his choice of the bridge exit. "They're hitting a ton of people. If I was handing resumes, people would be receptive to that," he figured.
That night at the pub, he floated his idea, and his pals were impressed.
"It's a great idea," he recalled them saying. "You ought to try it."
Unlike some recent college graduates, who have little employment history on their resumes, Lee, who worked his way through school in 5 1/2 years, had a resume stuffed with substance.
Lee decided Thursday would be his day at the bridge, and Kitch called two newspapers seeking publicity. Lee called one television channel.
Then Lee went to bed Wednesday night with big hopes for his future.
He woke at 4 a.m. to thunder. He saw flashes of lightning.
"Four in the morning it's going on, and I'm supposed to get up in two hours," he thought.
But at 7 a.m., with each wave of headlights that stopped at the Seventh Street lights, Lee stepped tentatively off the curb. The first car he approached was driven by a woman applying makeup. She ignored him. Some other drivers stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact. But most, Lee said, were supportive.
"I can't tell you how many people said: `I really appreciate your initiative.' A lot of people just rode by and said good luck.
"It made me feel good that I did it, even though I was out there for only an hour and a half," Lee said.
Lee's stint playing to traffic ended about 8:20 a.m. when a patrol car arrived and two officers invited him to move along, concerned that his presence posed a safety hazard.
By then, Lee had handed his resume through about 60 car windows, including that of Sandra Gowell, public relations director of Gowell & Kent Inc., a Mount Holly, N.J., company that conducts drug-abuse prevention programs in grammar schools around the country, using a robot.
Gowell took Lee's resume to Ted Freedman, the company's operations manager.
Freedman said Gowell told him that Lee "just struck her as interesting, doing something aggressive to get work."
On Wednesday, Freedman will interview Lee, the first candidate for a job escorting the robot around the country.
"Just one response could lead to the beginning of my future employment," Lee said Thursday afternoon of Freedman's call, the only one he had received. "I'm very pleased."
by CNB