The following is a message I wrote and am forwarding to every major Citigroup/primerica email address i can find...
I must tell you, I was excited to receive a call from one of your recruiters offering me an interview the other day. When I arrived at your center in Herndon, VA, I was relieved that I wasn't walking into some sort of scam, as there were so many bright eyed potential employees waiting to be interviewed and processed. Now, 'processed' is a key word here which may come up again, so you might want to pay attention.
What kind of rotten operation do you have going on in Herndon? Your business, as well as Citigroup as a whole, was whored out like a filthy pyramid scheme. I wasted hours of my time (even leaving my current job early to beat traffic), sitting through an 'orientation' which showed me everything I already knew and told me nothing. Then, after two hours of my time, I was asked for money. As you can see, any working professional who hasn't been lobotomized would raise an eyebrow at being asked for $200 up front before they even know if they are being offered a job, and if so, what it actually entails. When I questioned this, the response I received was even more disconcerting. Mind you, I did not become incredulous or stammer on about scams and such. I merely asked, "What's this?" indicating the previously unmentioned licensing charge. The recruiter in question gave me a frightened look and, without a word, disappeared into a back office. I found this to be a bit odd, considering said individual's previous gregariousness. A semi-adolescent man emerged, looking anxious and worried. I asked him again: "Do you need a credit card payment from me tonight? Are you offering me a job?" And, after looking about anxiously for a couple of seconds, verifying that none of the Latinos had overheard or understood my question, he quietly whisked me into the back room which was rife with Naugahyde and reeked of whatever medication the jittery boy had been partaking of all night.
He slathered me with jingoistic rhetoric, that I would only expect from a second rate street pimp, and questioned my ambition. Here was this booklet with enough legalese to establish a small island nation in the South Pacific, and a bill for $199 resting on a large wooden desk between me and a very crass subhuman who would not answer any of my questions, yet somehow could not stop talking. He stepped out every once in awhile during our conversation, often in mid-sentence, and would return like a pre-adolescent cyclone with an even worse case of the sniffles. His feral eyes rolled in their sockets as he tried, in vain, to explain to me that this was the best opportunity that I would ever have in life and I was squandering it by asking too many questions.
I informed him that I had been told to arrive, in a suit, looking sharp for a job interview with Citigroup/Primerica. Were was it? What kind of job am I interviewing for? He sighed and gave me a smug look when he explained to me that I was 'thinking like an employee and not a business owner.' I again described the nature of business and employee/employer relations and asked him if he owned a business, and he promptly disappeared to the medicine cabinet again. When he returned, shivering and sniffling, I had made up my mind. Obviously these freaks were pretending to be Primerica, the fine subsidiary of Citigroup. There was no way in hell Primerica does business like this; a smarmy coke-addled pirate with the attention span of Ms. PacMan berating applicants from a rubber room in some savage piece of backwater office space.
I politely declined the gentleman's offer, despite never having been told exactly what it was in the first place. He refused to return the booklet which at that point contained vital personal information (he actually said 'we already have your information. So what good's this gonna do ya?'), but I gave him the contract portion, and kept the rest. This lad physically tried to block my exit, explaining that I was throwing my life away and it's people like me who wallow in misery in the workforce, forever doomed to actually work for a living and receive a regular paycheck. I informed him that I would be fine, and thanked him for his concern and time. At this point, he was sweating profusely, and his eyes looked dangerous and unpredictable. I stepped around him and left, again thanking him. After wasting Hours of my time, and jangling my nerves horribly, this simple action took a monumental amount of patience and calm to perform.
The address is 455 Springpark Pl. Ste 150. Herndon, VA. Either that is your Romper Room office where you keep your savage and incompetent, or these clowns are fraudulently using your name and your parent company's name for ill gains. I strongly suggest you scrutinize these individuals, as they are making a mockery of one of the top businesses in America.
Please let me know if this has helped you in any way, or if i have sent this to the wrong address, please forward, as I will be sending this message to any seemingly appropriate Citigroup/Primerica address I can find.
Thank you,
Bewildered and Disappointed Job Applicant
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