I work in retail. That's my day job. It's not really by choice but I would venture a guess and say most people don't work jobs they would choose to do on a regular basis. But for those of you who have worked in retail know that aside from perhaps food service, law enforcement and prostitution, (only one of those I've actually done besides retail I'll let you guess which one) retail is easily the most pointless, annoying and frustrating field someone can work in. Do you know why this is the case?
Customer service.
Now, I work at a retail store whose definition of customer service involves energy and efficiency and responsibility and blah blah blah what the fuck ever. What customer service boils down to is working your self to the bone and taking it in the ass constantly from customers with a never-ending smile on your face for wages that would make an illegal immigrant spit on your shoes. Why do people subject themselves to this torture? I haven't got a fucking clue. I do it because no one in my field of expertise is hiring. Why everyone else does it, I don't know. I really don't care. I'm so goddamn miserable that I laugh when things go wrong at work. Especially if it happens to a manager. Why? Because by default, they are evil. Why? Because there's no one higher up on the corporate food chain that I see often enough to direct my anger and bitterness toward who doesn't have the power to fire me. It truly is a wonder how I haven't been fired from a single retail job. I talk back. I'm always late. I swear at my managers and co-workers on the sales floor while the store is open. I throw and kick things when I get angry and do my best to dress and act like I'm a deaf mute who doesn't work there so customers will leave me alone.
Why? Because customer service is really all about the fucking customers. And I hate customer service. Which means, I hate customers. A lot can be learned from customers about human nature. The most abundant information one can learn about human nature from customers has to do with ignorance and laziness. Because there are no stupid customers, just those that hide behind varying degrees of ignorance and laziness. The type of ignorance that motivates people to ask me where the fitting rooms are when I'm standing under a fucking sign that reads “Fitting Rooms.” The type of laziness that starts arguments over a sweater that rings up $30 but the customer swears was under a sign that read $7. And us, doing our due diligence to save the store $23, check the $7 sign that clearly reads “All Tank Tops: $7. Select styles only.” Oh, I love that qualifier. We have fucking sales that include every style of a particular item, and the signs still say “select styles only,” like we're keeping one aside just for ourselves because its the goldmine that's going to save the farm. But I digress.
Even the really smart customers with college degrees and years of life experience become lazy and ignorant the second they walk through the door. The people that ask where something is before setting foot into a section of the store. The people that come in and ask what's on sale when everything is in fact, on sale. The people that ask where something is and you take them to it, and then ask if you have a certain size before looking for themselves, the people who ask you to help them find a size in the clearance section. And yes, the people who are completely unnerved by the incredibly daunting task of putting something back from where they found it. To pay you guys back for all of your help in keeping me busy at work with completely unnecessary activities that I wouldn't have to do if you were a decent human being, I'm going to follow you home, or maybe to work. And once you're all nice and settled, I'm going to come in and put your stapler in the bathroom sink. Then, I'll put your alarm clock in the freezer, your dog in the toilet, your pictures of family in the kitchen cabinets, your computer in the coat closet and your flat-screen TV in my trunk. Then I'm going to go home feeling like I got ripped off by your unfair prices, knowing full-well that if I had simply returned the items to their proper place, the store could cut labor hours and pass the savings on to you!
People who work in retail, such as myself, get it from both ends really. Because when you work for an international retail company, you get fucked from just about every direction. They have people who work in the corporate offices who I honestly believe do whatever is possible to make our lives more difficult than they have to be. Signs go up, come back down in 4 days. Clothes get put there, then moved over there a couple days later. This stuff is on sale for a couple days, then back to full price, on sale again, full price, then BAM! On clearance for more money than the original sale price. Oh, and who can forget the one day sales when corporate purposely under-supplies the store and all of you retarded bargain monkeys come flocking to fist fight over $5 fleece tops. You have no idea how embarrassing you are to the human race. You're the type of people Al Qaeda uses to recruit jihadis. You don't need it. You don't even really want it. But WHO can pass up the SAVINGS?!
So, of course, during the holidays, we have one of these one day clusterfuck sales EVERY WEEKEND, because when I think of the Christmas Spirit, I think of passive-aggressive retarded bargain monkeys pummeling each other for a chance to grab more $1 flip-flops at 6am than anyone else...in DECEMBER. Oh yes, Santa and God love to see grown adults bickering like children, pushing and shoving so they can get all the super soft fleecy pullovers that Sally asked for this year. It's a good thing neither of them actually exist.
We had to call the police once. We had one woman who maced another over a pair of flip flops. I'm going to write that again. We had a woman, arrested for assault, over a pair of...$1...flip...flops. How would you like to make that phone call home from jail?
“Yeah, Hello”
“Hey honey, it's me.”
“Hey babe, why did the caller ID say Police Department? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, its just, uh, well, before you get mad, you don't even understand okay. I was at Old Navy this morning for the flip flop thing and I grabbed a pair off the hook thing right before another lady could. I already had 18 pairs and she called me a bitch and said my fat ass couldn't even fit into those flip flops, which is so untrue because I'm not fat and doesn't even make sense, but I didn't realize it at the time. So I told her she was a whore and that they were for our daughter and she said our daughter's probably fat just like me so I pushed her and she pushed me so I pulled out my mace and sprayed her in the face with it. And the store called the police on me even though she started it and I got arrested and now I'm at the jail. But it's not my fault.”
“Honey?”
“So what you're telling me is that you maced someone in the face...for a pair of $1 flip flops from Old Navy?”
“Well, yeah, but -”
“Yeah....I'm pretty sure you deserve to spend the night in jail” CLICK.
Really though, honestly, where are you in life when getting up at 6am to get $1 flip flops form Old Navy dictates your happiness? What does that say about you as a person when you're willing to mace someone over a pair of flip flops? Yeah, you can give me that whole “principle of the matter” bullshit, but I'm not buying it. Because when it boils down to it, you are committing a felony punishable with years in prison for a pair of fucking $1 flip flops. Then again, I'm not all that into fashion.
They just love to pile those sales on us. We had one where we advertised a sale but had run out of the stuff the day before. It ended up sort of working out because there was a blizzard that day. But yes, we were still open and yes, people showed up when we opened to make sure they got their deals. About 45 minutes after we opened, this woman comes in, grown woman, in her pajamas. Look, I realize they're comfy. I have a fantastic pair of Homer Simpson Pj pants I wear all the time. At home. I don't go out in public in them. Anyway, she starts ripping one of my managers about the lack of merchandise. I should be reveling in the moment, but all I can think about are two things: why are you, a grown woman with no children accompanying you, in your grimy Pjs? And what the FUCK possessed you to get up at 7am to risk your LIFE driving here in a FUCKING blizzard for $5 fleece? I'm pretty sure I can't collect unemployment if I get fired, so I kept those friendly thoughts to myself. But honestly, the number of grown women who find it acceptable to go out in the middle of the day in track suits and sweat suits and velour suits boggles my mind. I can understand if you have small children. Kids ruin everything they possibly can, including your clothes, your livelihood and your soul. And they make everything smell 10x worse. But most of the women I see dressed like this are at least 45.
Here is my thought process when I see these women, so you can understand.
“Hello 57-year-old non-retarded woman in a matching sweat suit. Why aren't you at work? Oh, you don't have a job. Okay. If you don't have a job, why are you shopping? Oh, your husband makes enough money so you don't have to work? Well, if your husband makes enough money so you don't have to work, why AREN'T YOU DRESSED NICER?! It's the middle of the goddamn day and you're out in public. Can't you afford better clothes or at least put on a proper t-shirt and pants? Oh, you just left the gym? Then what the fuck are you doing here? Go home and take a shower, stinky. Oh, you're on your way to the gym? Well I don't have anything to say to that."
