100 college presidents have gotten together to try to convince the government to lower the drinking age to 18.
They are being opposed, of course, by MADD and what I started to write about the drinking age turned into a little rant against MADD. Which I am saving for later. First, a repost from six years ago, detailing a summer job I had with MADD. This is what started my distrust of the organization which, years later, turned into an outright disdain for them. Below that, some topics for open discussion, if you are so inclined.
sucky summer jobs: #22 in a series, original publish date, 3/22/2002
I got tired of working at my uncle’s deli and wanted to move on to something more challenging. I needed to do something more worthwhile than slicing salami as a way to pay for my nighclubbing and drinking. Something that wouldn’t leave me smelling like head cheese at the end of the day.
A friend of a friend of a cousin told me about this place that was hiring. It sounded an awful lot like a telemarketer job, which I would never do, but it was for a charity, and therefore didn’t count as telemarketing. Right?
The first day of the training seminar proved that point. Our team leader stood up in front of us and told us we were not to call ourselves telemarketers. We were activists. We were paving the way for change. We were catalysts in the fight against drunk driving. We were the few, the proud, the people begging for money for a cause. I left the seminar feeling like I was doing something useful with my life. My naive ideals were soaring.
The second day, the altruism took a back seat to the sales pitch. Sales? I thought we were activists! Our team leader spoke in basketball metaphors for two hours; driving to the basket, blocking the shots, finally hitting the three-pointer with just seconds to go. When I left the seminar, I felt less like an activist and more like Dr. J.
The third and final day should have clued me in on what I was in for. Our fearless leader drilled us on the fine points of clinching the donation. Cite statistics. Make them feel bad. Tell them stories. She then handed out photocopied news clippings of horrid, tragic car accidents resulting from drunk driving. We were to tell our potential donors some of these stories if all else failed. If we had them in tears by the end of the call, we would be the superstars of the office. My stinging conscience was kicking my naive ideals in the head.
I figured I would give it two days tops. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe, because this was a worthy cause and one people were very concerned about, I wouldn’t have to make the hard sell. Sure! People would just give willingly! I would never have to utter a harsh word or tell a tragic story or make anyone cry. This would be a piece of cake, and my conscience would be left intact.
I was directed to a tiny room in the basement, where the walls were lined with little wooden cubicles. I was directed to my very own cubicle. On the desk was a phone and a kitchen timer. The wall I faced was lined with the same newspaper clippings that were passed out at the seminar. Those people in those stories, I was told, they are counting on you. They are watching you. I was told to set the timer at the beginning of each call, and that I was to keep each caller on the line for a minimum of one minute of soft selling. After one minute, I should start the hard sell. I was given a list of 100 numbers to start out with.
I noticed that the neighborhood I was cold calling was a wealthy one. This made me feel a little better. At least these people had money to spare. Maybe I wouldn’t have to reduce anyone to tears.
After a half hour, I didn’t have any donations. Apparently, all the people on my list had housekeepers. And none of them spoke English. At least not to telemarketers. The team leader came over and looked at my tally sheet. She was not pleased. I explained the situation. I can’t reach anyone who speaks English, I told her. And even if they did speak English, they would say that they are just the housekeepers, that I should call back.
“They’re lying to you,” she said.
“The housekeepers are lying?”
“They’re not really the housekeepers, you idiot!” Her breath stunk like garlic pickles. I tried to move my head back from hers, but she leaned in on me until our foreheads were touching.
“Are you going to believe every inconsiderate person who comes on the line and tells you a reason why they can’t give? Are you a sucker? Are you that naive? Let them know you know they’re lying! These people depend on you!” She pointed to the tragic news stories on the wall.
“But…but….”
“No buts. Tell them. Tell them if they don’t give money, they will feel horrible next time something like this appears on the evening news. They will understand that. They will understand guilt. And trust me, they understand English.”
I weighed my options. What was this job going to pay me anyhow? If I couldn’t make a sale I would be bringing home less than minimum wage. It would barely pay for one night’s admission to the club. I could go back to the deli. It wasn’t so bad. The people were nice. I didn’t have to make anyone cry in order to sell a pound of liverwurst.
I stood up and faced my leader. I told her I was done. This wasn’t the job for me. Told her I’d rather smell like head cheese than spend another day with her poking and prodding my conscience. She didn’t get the part about the head cheese. She probably didn’t get the part about having a conscience, either.
————
So that’s where my disdain for the the zealot organization known as MADD started. I realized soon after that they are really not against drinking and driving, they are against drinking, period.
I will tackle the issue of the drinking age later, but I would love to know what you think about it lowering the age to 18. Or what you think about MADD.
My problem with MADD is that they started out well, but couldn’t leave well enough alone. Let’s get drunk drivers off the road. When they started in the 80s, they wanted to raise the drinking age and lower the blood alcohol tolerance for the legal limit. They did that. Good for them. Job well done.
But they didn’t close their doors when they were done. No. They just kept going and going and going like some demented energizer bunny. Every time they achieve a new goal, they change their mission statement.
I don’t even drink and I don’t like them.
What Timmer said. I think MADD is despicable. Their original motives were probably quite noble and well-intentioned. But now they are prohibitionists and nothing more. And skeevy ones at that, since they’re not at all honest about it.
I was really annoyed yesterday, reading this comment from MADD:
“It gives me great pause to think of sending thousands of students onto a campus where the person who is most accountable doesn’t seem to be devoted to ensuring their health and safety,” Cash said.
That’s so slimy and so dishonest. It’s one thing to disagree with what the college presidents say. It’s another thing to accuse the presidents of not caring about student safety, or even wanting students to get hurt! These colleges gain NOTHING from student binge drinking or from students getting into trouble. I worked on a college campus (one of the ones involved in all this, actually) and these people are *obsessed* with student safety. Whatever the presidents’ motivations, I can promise you it has nothing to do with recklessness!
“You don’t agree with us, you must not care if 18 year olds die.” Fuck you, MADD. What a disgusting, childish reaction.
(In the interest of full disclosure, I support a younger drinking age. I got married for the first time at 19; it still seems ABSURD to me that I could do that legally, but not buy champagne for the ceremony.)
“But they didn’t close their doors when they were done. No. They just kept going and going and going like some demented energizer bunny. Every time they achieve a new goal, they change their mission statement.”
Sounds a lot like Jesse Jackson and the Rainbow Coalition.
And yes, count this comment as a third vote for ‘MADD is despicable’. They were founded upon a noble goal that each of us supports.
And they’ve taken it entirely too far as evidenced by the comment that nectarines referenced from MADD. They’ve turned into statists.
I think that the drinking age should be 18, or whatever each state decides it should be.
What do I think of MADD? Well, does saying “fuck MADD” constitute a thought, or is more of a reflex? In any event, I think that they are a group of lying neo-prohibitionists.
It’s all about liability. If the drinking age is lowered then the university is less liable.
Timmer pretty much summed it up for me as well. Hell, even the founder of MADD left and said that MADD “has become far more neo-prohibitionist than I had ever wanted or envisioned … I didn’t start MADD to deal with alcohol. I started MADD to deal with the issue of drunk driving”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Candy_Lightner
I echo what others have said about MADD..started out good, etc etc. As for the drinking age, it’s been 18 or 19 here in Canada for decades and we manage quite nicely.
I don’t know much about MADD. I do know that, on he drinking side of it anyway, much of whatever can be done about yoofs drinking and then driving is already being done.
I’ll be resident troll again and say that I think that MADD or something like it should still exist; but it should trim its staff and restrict itself to the occasional “responsibility” PSA. There were ads about the Heroic Designated Driver in the 1980s; where did they go?
Another way MADD could help is to go after unnecessary driving after hours. Street crime, for instance, forces physically weaker people (women especially) to drive to the local bar instead of walking. MADD could look into improved local policing.