Benemisfit

Want a job at Benefit? I’ll tell you how…

My audition for maternity cover counter manager at Benefit was an enlightening experience. It’s not for the faint-hearted. If you think all that is required is pushiness, a loud mouth and a half-way decent appearance, you’re wrong. It’s a sharp memory, a careful strategy and large dose of luck. And a bit of stupidity, desperation and womany-ness – if you get my drift – wouldn’t go a miss.

I actually arrived late; of course I pretended that I’d been wandering around the department store looking for them, this was because I was actually busy taking phone calls, serving customers, interviewing candidates, writing rotas with my left foot and piercing ears at my current store.

First of all – once I had been retrieved – we sat in a grimy board room with some cosmetics neatly laid in front of us and each a pot of brushes. Before us sat Big Wig; no guessing that she’s the area manager due to her grating, high-pitched voice where the words kind of drivel on a bit at the ends, and the ‘S’s pierce the air.  Accompanying her is Little Wig, which is current acting manager while Original Wig (whose position is being temporarily filled) is off popping out no doubt another irritating, high-pitched human with no brain cells.

We are subjected to at least 30 minutes of her voice, while she tells us all about Benefit. I can’t really tell you anything because I was too busy wondering what the heck I’d done, so you’ll have to look that bit up.

She then asks us, in a circle, to tell our name to the group, and a little bit about our love-affair with Benefit. Thankfully I have actually tried Benefit cosmetics; they are all rubbish, so I had to make something up quickly. Luckily, I had plenty of time to do this, because when the candidate before me finished her speech, Big Wig forgot what we were doing and got hooked onto the sound of her voice again for a further 20 minutes. When Little Wig eventually nudged her and informed her of her oversight – which I had been tempted to do myself if it wasn’t for the fact that I’d decided she must have rejected me already – I had my turn.

I told the group that ‘You Rebel’ tinted moisturiser was my favourite product. It was the only one I could remember. It was difficult I’ll admit, to shy away from saying, “I love the way it’s like smearing mud on my face and I enjoy the fun game of trying to spread it evenly before it begins to look like poo”.

After this, Big Wig and Little Wig did an impression of how to ‘traffic stop’ 80 year old ladies who came in to buy nylons (which we call tights these days) and apply this cack to their faces. There is a specific order in which you have to say the ‘Benefit Spiel’, you must not stray from this, because if you do, it will damage the brand image irreparably and lose every sale ever to possibly happen after that moment. The most difficult part was remembering in which order to apply these eye liners and one-liners.

Then we had to pair up with another anxious-looking stranger we were competing against for the job and role play with each other for about 15 minutes.

As it approached lunchtime, Big Wig sat eating her potted couscous, flap-jack and banana re-applying her Chanel make-up from a gold-coloured compact, whilst you could hear the faint rumbling of stomachs from the line of desperate conscripts. Our task was to practice applying make-up to each other. Not easy when it’s like trying to spread Artex onto cracked concrete then paint it before it’s dry.

Once we’d survived this we are allowed a quick toilet break. I could tell I was taking too long, by the look I received from Big Wig upon my return; probably because I tried to squeeze out of the window but was caught. “Quick, get your kit and go” she whined.

So I scooped my items up and blundered onto the shop floor and began laying them out on the counter. Of course, I was the last one there, so rushing to set up, in my usual style. I kept getting muddled and ended up dropping things, the worst being the glass bottle of ‘Benetint’ lip stain, which promptly smashed on the white floor beneath Little Wigs feet. “You just set up” she snapped while grabbing tissues and scrubbing manically like some kind of possessed wombat as I stood over her staring in disbelief, unsure of quite what to do with myself. “It’s just the worst product to break” she hissed as it began spreading violently and staining the pale ceramic tiles. For the absence of a better thing to say I announced “Well that was a good start” as I felt the steam rise from her head.

Once set up, it was time to begin the prowl in search of prey. I was told that I could ‘traffic stop’ anywhere, and was advised to stand in the street and run after people and drag them in by the collar. The worst part of this is that there are five others, also hunting for an old deer to catch and drag into their pink lair.

I found myself lamely following after them; chin up and hands limp by my sides, repeating my lines: “Have you ever of B…” “Come with me I’ll show you… “It’ll only take a few…”

One smart lady replied to my opening question, ‘have you ever heard of Benefit?’ with a quick witted, ‘Yes. Two minutes ago’ whilst speeding up. I have to say I’ve fixed a number of pensioner’s mobility problems. It’s amazing how fast the old biddies on Zimmer frames can run when a long-legged bimbo in stilettoes is chasing after them with a stick of blue lippy.

I could feel Big Wigs eyes on me throughout the process; occasionally I made eye contact with her as she rustled her scoring sheet. I knew mine was ‘zero. Zero. Zero…’ I just grinned at her, battling with my conscience repeating ‘You are not a quitter, you are not a quitter’ while every bone in my body was trying to pull me towards her to say “I’m off, I’ve got a ton of socks to pair”.

But, perseverance paid off. Eventually I managed to get one poor soul in the hot seat. It was a bit of a squeeze, as all the other girls already had their seats filled and were perfectly reciting the Benefit Spiel while elbowing me in the ribs as they picked their weapons in an exaggerated manner like they were doing it for a pantomime.

This first lady told me she was killing time for the bus and proceeded to tell me all about her time living in Germany during the war, not taking a blind bit of notice of the products I was trying to explain to her for Big Wig’s benefit, in you’ll pardon the pun.

The second lady I managed to catch was very patient. I sat her down in front of Big Wig. You are meant to say, “My name’s Belinda what’s your name? … And how old are you? And which school do you go to?” but in my blind fluster I forgot. She put up with me as I fumbled around and dropped the sticky lid in her handbag. I can’t remember what the product was called, it was a play on words and I kept pronouncing it wrong. It was something like ‘Pore-fessional’ and I kept calling it ‘festering pores’. To my utter astonishment, she picked a few to buy, explaining that she “felt sorry for me”. She also explained that although the mascara was good, she’d just bought one from Clinique. Trying not to be too pushy to this kind lady who I thought had just saved my skin, I said “Maybe leave the mascara then you don’t want to go too mad, this stuff costs a fortune” and looked up to discover to my horror I was being hawk-eyed by Big Wig. I immediately tried to back pedal, “oh, well I suppose it’s always good to have a spare…”

The lovely lady then bundled up four of my testers and took them off to the counter, while I breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded to tidy up. When I had completely finished cleaning I stood there for a moment scratching my head, thinking that something was missing. All the while being inspected by Big Wig, probably in total amazement at my incompetence, the penny then dropped. Suddenly I exclaimed ‘Oh!’ and hopped off after her like a lost lamb bleating “you’ve got my testers..!”

My last young lady was the icing on the cake; a monumental disaster. I managed to get the chatting part right, and had time to discover that she was just on her way to meet a hot date in a swanky new bar in town. Her skin was very fair, but after previous advice from Big Wig, I proceeded to apply the darker shade of ‘You Rebel’ (mud in a tube) to her already perfectly preened face. It was a total catastrophe. It looked like a child had got hold of mum’s oil paints and drawn on the wall paper. It was bright orange, thick, I couldn’t blend it and the brush strokes showed. I brushed and brushed and then accepted defeat and hoped she wouldn’t notice.

But it got worse. I proceeded to apply ‘step two’, the ‘Benetint’ (a fresh one) in two stripes on her face (as advised), then frantically attempted to blend it, and in doing so removed all the orange mud, revealing two very round, glowing white patches on her cheeks. This progressed into a mad panic as I began re-applying, rubbing, blending. I considered every option, including running away, before I eventually resorted to grabbing the nearest wipe labelled ‘Hand Sanitizer’ and began desperately dabbing at her face with it in full view of Big Wig in a frenzied attempt to rectify the mess I had made of this poor girl’s face. All the while I was thinking in my head ‘This is a disaster…’ while Big Wig’s haunting words came back to me: “Remember, you are the expert”…