This blog is a weekly journal of my experiences as a retail manager of a large sporting goods chain. It serves a dual purpose: To allow me to vent after a long day of dealing with sub-par intelligence while giving you guys, the readers, a good laugh and boosting your ego compared to those people.
This blog has no complaining. In fact, it is just the opposite. I would like to use my last blog post to say "thanks" to my small legion of faithful followers who have read, or at least claimed to read, my blogs. It was a lot of fun doing this as a school assignment, but also to share my pains with all of you. Maybe some of you can relate to what I am going through because you have similar issues at your jobs. I just want everyone to know that I am generally a very happy person, and I don't need counseling. I just figured ranting about retail would be easy since I entertain my co-workers in the same manner all the time. I sincerely hope you found these blogs entertaining!
I have decided not to post on this blog any further for a couple of reasons: I don't plan on having this job much longer because I am completing my college coursework in a week! (Sound the victory music here) Also, I am just not that grumpy and cold-hearted of a person as this blog makes me out to be. I found myself really struggling to come up with topics to bitch about towards the end there; as evident as the last minute rush of blog posts is.
I may start another blog some day, but for now I am going to focus on doing things I love to do in my new free time, as well as finding a job to settle in to and make a fine career out of. I just ask that those that really care and would like to follow me stay tuned, I'm sure you will see me in the media for one reason or the other; hopefully it isn't because I did something stupid. So thanks everyone!
This blog is going to give away where I work. At the same time, I will not mention the company's name, therefore it these blogs will not appear when searching the company's name, and they will not be able to stop it!
If you have ever shopped in a sporting goods store, and the employees were all dressed in shirts and ties, you have found the company I work for. There is your hint haha. I know what you are thinking, and you are correct. The employees really do hate shaving every day and wearing shirts and ties (the guys that is, obviously). The girls, equally, hate wearing uni-colored tops and nice dress pants. However, it is the guys who do all the heavy lifting, and me, having a Y chromosome, must wear a shirt and tie. This provides a unique situation I like to call "Classy Heavy Lifting."
In the event that a customer has decided to purchase a basketball hoop system, a treadmill, a weight set, or just a shitload of stuff, it is our job to grab a hand dolly, throw our ties over our shoulders, and lift these huge items on to that dolly. That's the easy part. Next comes wheeling these huge items from the backroom to the front of the store without wiping out valuable merchandise. Once paid for, the real fun begins: "What vehicle will we be loading this in to today, Ma'am?" "Oh, it's that cute Honda Civic over there." DAMMIT. I don't know what stings worse; the shaving every day or the amount of my monthly spending that goes in to keeping my shirts dust free for my employer. Why can't we just be like target and where a red tee shirt and cargo pants? Because we are classy, that's why!
I would quit if we carried this thing at our store:
I'm going to call this a throw-back blog. Starting out with the company I work for at the management level requires supervision of the shoe department; a key element is selling shoes. Now ladies, please don't get offended by this, but I have the experience to back this claim and I think you will find it hard to refute it: Women are monsters when they are shoe shopping. Ask to try on six pairs, and if the salesman is lucky, you buy one, or the Holy Grail, two. The irony here is while the woman is asking to try on all these shoes because her walking shoes are hurting her feet, the salesman is walking two or three miles over the course of walking back and forth between her and the stockroom.
Is this really necessary? If you ask her, it is: It has to be the right color, it has to provide enough support, it has to look CUTE, it has to match her jogging clothes, it has to breathe well, it can't make her feet look too big or too small, it has to be high on the ankle to offer ankle support but it can't be too high because then it won't look right, and OMG, the laces can't be too long or too short. Trust me, the paragraph I just typed didn't take several minutes to compile. I literally typed that out in seconds because I have done this OVER AND OVER AND OVER again and heard the same things OVER AND OVER AND OVER again. Vince Vaughn would explode from the neck and his head would shoot off like a rocket if he had to be a shoe salesman at Macy's (not saying that is where I work) for more than five minutes.
I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Phew, I'm spent.
As the title suggests, I really wish I could say that and people would believe me. I'm gonna go get a tanning membership right now. The company I work for is huge on newspaper advertisement. Who reads the newspaper these days? Mostly the aging elite that are holding fast in their stand against technology. The main feature with these people - diminishing eye sight. Fun stuff. They come in with their newspaper advertisements, having misread the name, price, and general function of the item that has caught their eye, then decide to ask me where it is. My response: "Move the paper you are holding and look down." Their next utterance, "Oh, these are them?" and my final reply, "The one's with the HUGE, BRIGHTLY colored tags that list the sale price? Yes, those are them." Never fails. I feel like I am Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. Haven't seen it? That's because you were probably barely born by the time in came out in the 80's. That just my movie fondness spilling over in to my writing, but I digress. The plot of the film is that Bill Murray has no soul, he is a well-known, wealthy public figure in the broadcasting industry (something I hope to be some day, but with a soul instead) that is forced to wake up to Groundhog Day in a small town every day, until he learns his moral lesson. I'm starting to fit that bill, my soul is hardening, but there is still some soft spots that might spread after Christmas.
I feel like I am repeating the same events every day at work, the same old people who forgot their glasses but still DROVE to the store. The clueless customers whose hands I have to hold and asses I have to wipe, and the customers who are waiting outside the door 20 minutes before we open. I have no answer for this cycle, except "No hablo ingles."
Holiday season is in full swing and my patience is going to be stretched. There is no way around it. I thought I might be running out of topics to gripe about since I'm not normally this bitchy, but now that the Holidays are here!... The number of shoppers in our store is now increasing, and it reminds me of the recent changes in firearms and ammunition laws that are soon to be going in to effect in California. I had just been discussing with a frequent ammo buyer the reasoning for the news laws and my philosophies about them. For those of you who aren't aware of these laws, I will explain: Starting in June of this coming year, ammo buyers will be required to submit a thumb print for any and all ammo purchases, but there will not be a set limit on the quantity they can buy. However, in February of 2011, customers will be required to provide a thumb print, and WILL be limited on the amount of ammo they can buy, per caliber, per month.
My understanding of this new legislation goes something like this: It doesn't matter how many smart people there are in a large group (like say 30 million ;-) ), there will always be those stupid people surrounding them. The government can't possibly regulate on a person-to-person basis, so they create blanket legislature to cover everybody. Therefore, the law-abiding citizens (no movie reference) that come in and complain to me about the new laws have no recourse.
Where am I going with this? - You ask? Such is true with the retail world, especially during the holidays. Remember, this blog is about all the things that frustrate me on a near-daily basis while at work, not about all the nice little gestures that a couple customers do during the day, because I wouldn't have enough material for a steady blog.
The majority of the customers that come in to our store know at least a little bit about the product they intend to buy. Fine, good for them; it makes things much smoother. My "beef" if you will is with the people who prepared themselves by sitting on the couch, watching the game, realizing they just HAVE to have something, and walk through the door without a clue. It gets worse - then the customer proceeds to asking for every item in the display case, asking 100 questions, 98 of which are pointless in determining the best product, and I am left to stand there hoping the people above me in the chain of command don't bite my head off for not getting any tasks done around the store. Now I am standing there thinking, "Man I wish I could just B.S. this guy 'cause he wouldn't know the difference." He's standing there saying, "Well I like this one, I think I'll take....oooooo but can I see those?" @#&$^!($*!!!!!!
So I have a simple request: Shoppers, please do a little research, you'll make yourself feel smarter and make my day smoother. And just keep something in mind.....They're just @%*#ing binoculars!
A lot of retailers carry extra stock in their back room. The retailer I work for is not one of them. I completely understand, although am still frustrated by, the questions, "Is this all you have?" or "Is there any more in the back?" The worst in when I am way across the store with another customer, or embroiled in a project and have to drop what I am doing just to answer that question. And worst of all, sometimes it is a customer that I know shops in our store frequently, and has even asked that question before! Our backroom is tiny, really, it's small. We are not Target or Wal-Mart, but we make our space count on our sales floor. I'd be more than happy to find it at another one of our locations for you, and I don't even know why that question bothers me so much; I guess I'm just sick of hearing it and tired of retail. #@$& my life. Ok, that was a little harsh, but this blog really wasn't funny, so I had to throw it in there.
Ladies and gentlemen, I have just come up with an idea for a cheesy commercial. I should have patented this first, because it's so good that someone is going to read this and you will see it on TV in 6 months:
Here's to you oh innocent bystander of the never-ending story!
I mentioned in an earlier blog that I must look like the "nice guy" of the group despite my black collared shirts and hurried pace with which I walk through the store. What do you do when you get stuck listening to a long boring story from an old man with plenty of material? Even I don't have the balls to stop them and say, "I don't give a @#*!" I don't think you do either. I should subpoena for help from my employer since they would probably help if they knew how much money they were wasting paying me to listen to long, drawn-out stories. But on the other hand, it's better than lifting a heavy treadmill on to the back of a Geo Metro.
Then, a week later, after I have finally recovered, they re-appear, call me over by name, and I am their new best friend. Oh the hells and nightmares of retail! What a great commercial this would be!
How long do you have to work for a company, break your back, and show loyalty before they do the same for you? The post you are about to read is one that may get me FIRED, but I have made a promise to my readers that I will present the information without reservation, and I intend to keep my word, just as I have for 2 years with my employer.
I was literally 3 weeks away from graduating when having a discussion with my supervisor about the conflict with working 6 days a week while trying to finish up school. Not only was there no compromise, but I am not finding myself trying to take my final exams and finish my terms papers around 46 hours a week of work. I literally carved it down to one necessary day off in order to finish up school, and I was denied. One day! It just goes to show what kind of economy we are in, and what kind of businesses are out there. I am left to continue my job as I always have before. I do my job, and I do it well, but I am not a robot. I have thoughts, emotions and feelings, and therefore I write blogs. Is anyone out there that can relate?
It never fails. Even in the middle of the week. It could be a Monday, a Thursday, or a Saturday, but there always seems to be those house wives, retired workers, or oddly scheduled retailers that show up at our door half an hour before we open. Man, I wish glass wasn't clear sometimes so I wouldn't have to walk passed them staring at me as if they were yelling in my ear to open the door. We are a sporting goods store, what could you possibly need at that hour, from a sporting goods store? This is an emergency! I have to have shoe laces by tomorrow night!
And of course there are 2 levels of this type of customer: The one's who understand they showed up early and wait patiently in their cars, and the one's who come flying up to the door, yank on it, realize it's locked, then proceed to knocking. I guess the big white sign with our store hours on it was too big for them to see me standing behind it with a look on my face. No, I will not open half an hour early just for you Mr. President of your own world. Next time, just sleep in a little longer, it's good for you!
How do they always find me? Even if I am not working that day, and I am following three of my co-workers around the store, customers will let them go by then ask me to find them a shoe. Is there some sign stapled to my forehead that others can read and I can't see? I guess it's because although I sound like an asshole in these blogs, I look like a nice, knowledgeable young man in person. I guess my smug demeanor and ample eye contact make me an easy target. Ask the guy with the name tag, tie, price gun and worksheet for a shoe, not me. I'm just an unexpecting bi-stander like you in this situation. I don't want to help you, and I'm not going to, but good luck with that!
Yeah sure, you wanna buy a firearm? No problem, here you go. Right over the counter, you look like a good guy so I'll cut you a break. Psh, what do I look like? Someone who doesn't want to keep his job? You will fill out the paperwork, you WILL submit to a background check, and if you don't pass, it's not my problem! Having a serious or violent criminal record f***s you up for life dumbass. When people tell you: "Don't do drugs," "Don't drink and drive," "Don't hit your girlfriend," or "Don't knock off a liquor store or steal a car," they are not trying to register you for the Republican party, they are trying to prevent you from preventing yourself from owning a firearm! California is the worst place to purchase a firearm. With all the idiots running around, we have to have ridiculous legislation in order to make sure someone like the before-mentioned does not arm themselves. Just think about it: The more people you pack in to an area, the more idiots are in that area, I'm just playing by the percentages here. How else can you control the idiots? You can't separate them out, so everyone suffers (i.e. the stringent and strict laws in California for obtaining firearms). Now I've just wasted my time with you at this counter, opening up every rack and showing you several firearms, only for you to tell me you have "a record" and ask if your girlfriend can fill out the paperwork for you. I don't want to believe in the phrase, "Once a criminal, always a criminal." I believe in second chances, people make mistakes in the long journey of life. But these people walking in to the store and doing these kinds of things makes me have doubts. I am sitting in class right now, fully appreciating my education, because I have a firm grasp of logic and reason, and I feel bad for those who never had that. Will mankind ever get better.......?
You spend a couple hundred bucks on a piece of technology that is supposed to make your life easier. It doesn't work out how you wanted it to, so you return it. Fair enough. $200 is a lot of money for most of us, especially in our nation's current economic predicament. However, I have yet to encounter a $200 hoola hoop, and yet I have returned three of them over the span of my career with my current employer. Two of those times, the customer simply wanted their money back and was not planning on exchanging it for anything else. Are you freaking kidding me? The customer probably spent more money on gas to get to the store than they got back after returning that stupid piece of plastic that is a sorry excuse for getting your kids to exercise. Side note: It seems kids are getting fatter and fatter these days, and hoola hoops have become better at creating future strippers than shedding childhood weight.
What is the thought process for returning a hoola hoop? At the time of purchase: "Wow, this looks great. I can dance with it, I can...uh....spin around and move my hips....oh and this store has a GREAT return policy if it doesn't perform how I want it to. It's a freakin' hoola hoop! It doesn't water your lawn, take out the trash, get you a beer out of the fridge, nor will it pay your taxes. You put it around you waist, spin your hips in a small circle, and it does what your hips do. How do you buy one of these things and then suddenly decide that $3.99 investment is crippling? Two out of the three times I have returned one of these the excuse was, "It was the wrong size." Did it shrink in the washing machine? Did you remarkably become far-sighted just at the right moment when your eyes were first laid on that scented and brightly colored circle of nightmare? What the hell is wrong with you? Just take your $3.99 and buy yourself a bus pass to the end of the earth, take one more step off the edge and do all of us a favor. Jackass
Whenever someone tells me that our public schools aren't receiving enough funding, I just laugh. This happens at least twice a shift for me: A young boy or girl comes up to me and in broken English, amidst numerous pauses, asks me to point their parents in the direction of a product. Where are the parents? Waiting for their child to come back and translate it in to Spanish for them. I love the fact that America is so diverse, a real "melting pot," but I can't stand the language barriers and the lack of effort from people who are not in this country legally. Now that I've pissed you off, I will explain: I fully understand that not every non-English speaking person in this country is an illegal alien, but if I'm going to make an attempt to help you find what you need, I would like to feel a little reciprocation for my efforts. Yes, I am paid to help these people and they are not paid to speak English, but given how hard it must be to provide for your family and communicate with the general public, wouldn't you attempt to make it easier for you and your family? For the first time in my blogs I am honestly asking for a response from my readers, as I would like to discuss this and gain perspective, even from another point of view. Hit me up.
Have you ever had someone just start talking to you like you're already in the middle of a conversation? For example: Someone you may know (or not know) is standing near by, happens to overhear your conversation, and decides to chime in with vital information as if they have been involved in your conversation circle from "hello." It happens to me everyday. I've got my back to someone while being busy with another customer, or frantically trying to finish a task handed to me by my boss when I hear, "Can I see this one?" The customer has just committed a small break in etiquette by skipping over the "Excuse me, Sir?" and going straight to the ensuing question. I'm gonna be honest with you readers, half the time I pretend I didn't hear because I know I can get away with it. Who knows who he was talking to? I don't. I can't seem him behind me. For all I know he was talking to his wife about her getting something out of her purse. I will literally continue with what I am doing until I get an "Excuse me, Sir?" I'll even take a "Hey man, you might showing me some binoculars?" I guarantee you will get the most attitude from me if you act like we are ol' buddies and skip the pleasantries. If you have ever had me help you in my store and have started our conversation with, "I wanna see some knives" while my back was turned, you've probably gotten this response, "Well the glass is see-through, so have at it!" Sigh, I am reminded of one of my earlier posts about hailing me for service.
A lot of times those customers make me think this is their senior photo in the yearbook:
Disclaimer: If you have been torturing yourself by reading each one of my blogs before this one, you're in luck! This is simply a "live blog" post about my recent experience at Twilight Lounge. I will attempt to use my superb vocabulary to set the mood and put your mind in my seat. I will avoid comedy (well, I'll try) so that you can see my expert journalistic style. And away we go!
First of all, forget everything I just said. There were simply just way too many idiots floating around to let that slide. Hmm, where to start. Oh I know! How about the group of three or four guys that rolled up in matching bikes (yet four different colors) complete with glow lights that match the paint job and four semi-attractive biker girls on the back (the girls shoulda kept the helmets on). They walk in as if everyone is looking at them with admiration, meanwhile nobody strained their necks to see. They marched straight to the middle of the dance floor (Oh how the aroma of Axe body spray sauntered about the room). Oh what luck! Their favorite song was playing in which they knew every word (Yeah, trust me, they have that kinda time on their hands) and immediately they all became little wannabe Eminems. Complete with wife beaters and matching fitted hats with the stickers still on the bill, they began to attempt a dance while lip-syncing the words. The smiles and giggles of all the girls in the place only fueled the "hey look at me" fire.
For those of you not familiar with Twilight Lounge, it is a great place for loud music, free wi-fi, and Hookah. "The dance crew" felt the empty space in the middle was a dance floor, so they got busy. I was trying not to laugh (because I was choking on the Hookah, not because I would care if they saw me laughing, I fit right in with everyone else in the room) but I gotta give them props, that took brass balls, but trust me, that's about the only thing they are using their balls for. When the song was finally over, they returned to their seats and everyone who was either crying from laughter or passing out from lack of oxygen (since you don't take in any air when you're laughing so hard your cheeks hurt) and life went on as usual.
Despite the display of idiocy, Twilight Hookah Lounge is a great place to kick back with friends if you like smoking Hookah. The DJ is awesome, the big screens are great, and they have tons of Hookah flavors to choose from while you are chilling on the couches. It is located on Chapman just passed State College, within walking distance of the campus of CSUF. I highly recommend it! Seriously, come out with me some time, I can always use another finger pointing at the idiots while we share a laugh. ;)
Customers, please don't help yourself with heavy equipment or tiny, sealed packages. The two things are just too easy to screw up or hurt yourself with. On top of that, the employees generally have to come fix it after you've forgotten where you are and how you got there.
A hint about sealed packages: They're meant to NOT be opened before purchase, not just to annoy you (which is fun to watch for us). Heavy equipment generally has a warning label on its box (not like you read though). Don't get me wrong, there are few greater joys of retail work than to watch you fall on your ass or get all worked up about not being able to open that tiny package, but please, let the people who get paid to do these kinds of things take care of them for you. I'm talking about BEFORE you attempt to open the package, not after you have failed and left a mess.
One of these days I am going to dust for fingerprints, track you down, try to help you open a jar of mayonnaise, then spill it all over your new carpet and walk out the door. I hate you.
Why is it people twice my age have fewer manners and common sense than I do? Didn't their parents (Oh wait, maybe they were kids in the 60's. Shit, now I just defeated my whole idea, but I'm gonna write it anyway) teach them proper manners in casual conversation with strangers?
I cannot count on this countries' fingers how many times I have been interrupted by other customers while helping a customer. Wait your *#$(*# turn! It's the polar opposite of those dumb asses with their fingers in the air that don't use their words like grown-ups, and yet it is still infuriating. OFFICIAL NOTICE: Your time is no more valuable to me than the person I am currently helping. There are 3 other employees in the store that are chatting with each other because they have no one else to talk to. If you need help, and don't want your panties in a bunch, ask one of them! I am not going to make eye contact with you, I will not acknowledge your smelly ass is standing 6 inches from my left arm, and if you interrupt me, I will simply look at you like I want to punch you, and then carry on with the courteous and patient customer right in front of me.
I wish I had one of those little machines attached to my waist so you could just pull the number and shut the hell up. I know my store's product, this is true. I probably have more knowledge of the items hanging around than anyone else in the store, fine. But is a price check or an item location worth you looking like an idiot? I don't think so. Oh, and clearing your throat, stamping your foot, or talking loudly to your friend that you are going to ask me for help, doesn't constitute an "Excuse me, Sir?"
All I ask if for a little manners and common courtesy. I will help you find what you need (although I'm sure you haven't looked yet) as soon as I am finished helping the other customers. Have a little patience huh?
Ok. This one has happened to probably all of us, but it is not less frustrating or laughable: You take home an item that you think will solve all of your problems. When you can't figure something out with the item and it appears as though it's not what you thought it was, you return it. Right? Seems harmless.
You take it back to the store, approach the customer service center (Or for the little guys like us, the cashier) to return it, and they immediately point out the obvious that you had completely overlooked. This situation is a little bit different from the rest of them that I have written about thus far. My issue here is more with the nature of mankind than the bottom of the gene pool of customers.
It is simply in our nature to think that the answer is not as obvious as it seems. We like to think that we are beings of higher intelligence and in complete command of other species and our surroundings. The hard fact to swallow is we are complicating ourselves every day. The shortest distance between two points is still a straight line (and if you know how to use a wormhole, freaking tell us already!).
These days our thought patterns more closely mimic the flight of a butterfly than a slug. A slug has no time for detours. Its soft body, slow mobility, and strange appearance make it an easy target for predators, the sun, and unwatched kids.
Consider appointments, money, and progress as the reasons why we slugs should move in a straight line (but without the trail of slime, unless you're Kanye West, because then you would be made of slime). If all these things are so important to us, why are we floating around like butterflies without a care (or a direction) in the world?
Back to stupid returns: The nature of us that I just described above just made you look like an idiot in front of strangers, made you drive all the way back to the store for nothing, and gave all the people around you a good laugh. Maybe a change in your approach to life (finding the simple things) would make you happier. Just saying.....
I'm not a machine, I don't have a power cord, and I am capable of emotions and higher thought patterns. So when a customer approaches me in the middle or back of the store and asks how much an item costs, why would I know the exact price? The store I work for carries thousands of products, and quite honestly, I don't remember the prices for each individual item. There are only a few stores (like Target and Wal-Mart) that have machines all over their store that will scan an item and let you know how much it costs. For the rest of us, we have to rely on conventional methods.
Think hard now customers; where in the store would you be able to find the price of an item? Maybe if you moved your thumb, you wouldn't have to carry that heavy (5 lb.) barbeque all the way to the front of the store (How dare us make you exert effort?). I think optometrists and I should go in to business together. I cannot tell you how many times I have told the customer that the price is on the box. Then, when it finally isn't, they walk across the entire store to ask me to walk with them ALL THE WAY BACK to where the item is, only to ask me how much it costs. Seems like a lot of work for a rough estimate right? (My usual response is something like, "Gee, I'm not sure, I think it's around...") Meanwhile, the cashier who gets paid almost plainly to scan the customers items and take their money, is just standing there staring at you thinking you are a dumb ass.
Now granted, my store offers sale prices all the time, so finding the price for an item isn't always an exact science because maybe we can give you a better deal. The cashiers can tell you the price of the item, if you can get a sale price, what stores in the chain around us have that item, and if we expect to be getting more of them in soon. What more could you ask for?
Customers: I am only picking on you because I want this situation to be easier on the both of us (but mainly just me). I know manual labor is a bitch, and we are the ones getting paid to move stuff around, but take some pride in initiative and self-reliance, and take the item to the front of the store! You can't beat me, I will always have something to complain about. Unless....the common man (and for all you bra burners and razor haters, the common woman) puts forth a little extra effort in the daily life and therefore leaves me with nothing but pleasant thoughts and a sense of togetherness. I am simply an observant doubter, and I don't see that happening.
When a store lists its store hours, more often than not the general public treats them as guidelines more than actual rules. At the author's retail location, this is no exception. The store "closes" at 9 pm but it never fails: It's 8:58 and there hasn't been a customer in the store for a cool minute. Then, there's a sound at the door; it's them, the dim-witted, slow-moving, nothing-to-do-on-a-Friday-night crew laughing and joking as they enter the building. And they're like, "Hey Yo, what time do you close, man?" And I'm all, "We close in 2 minutes, Sir." And they're like, "Sweet" as they go strolling by, like totally. #U@$*YI&$UY##IU$Y!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In my head a million words cannot yet describe the mini-implosion that consumes me. Are you kidding me!!!??? Have you no common courtesy or respect for the employees anticipating going home on time to their families, Playstations or Twitter blogs? We too have lives, you know. If we weren't in the store working, we would certainly not be shopping at 8:58 on a Friday! And what the hell could you possibly need from a Sporting Goods store at that hour!!??
Ok, yeah sure, beer pong balls, fine. Get them, and get out! Take the party....to....tha.................PARTY.
Here's my favorite excuse: "Oh, you close at 9?" Pleading ignorance eh? That's actually believable considering if the customer can't read our ad signs, they certainly can't read the HUGE sign on the FRONT DOOR that reads, "STORE HOURS." But alas, there is little hope. I am a servant to you, Mr. Beer Pong Superstar, for I value my paychecks, and enjoy my meals. But do me a favor: The next time you come in for a late beer pong ball supply run, take me with you!
These people remind me of some of the people in this video. Enjoy:
Preface:
Going to a retail setting that a person is unfamiliar with is not the easiest and care free of tasks; this is understandable. The customer is not going to know where the desired item is immediately upon entering the store. However, there are specific traits that distinguish the self-sufficient customers from the ones that need their diaper changed before having their hand held all the way to the product.
CAN'T SEE THE FOREST THROUGH THE EMPLOYEE
The setting: A busy weekend day, several customers have found their way to the store, amazingly on their own without having a tether attached to their wrist on one end and the store on the other (Haha, I just reminded myself of those silly ass backpack-leash things for lazy parents again), the salesmen and cashiers are busy at work executing the daily tasks while trying to balance customer requests, the phones, and the mess left behind from customers evidently without the time for placing the item right back where they just pulled it from.
A customer walks in, and immediately looks for an employee. Why? - You ask? Well because they have no time or initiative to find the product themselves. They may or may not be in a hurry, but who cares? The employee is right in front of them and they most certainly will know exactly what he or she is looking for and exactly where to find it. However, the question uttering almost subconsciously (not a lot going on up there) is where are your shoes? Never mind that the whole back wall of the store is littered with shoes like a tinsel on a Christmas Tree.
Then the inevitable response, "On the ENTIRE back wall" which is followed by the customer replying, "Oh well could you show me where I can find these shoes?"(As the customer holds up the ad in the local paper). This questions elicits the following response from the employee: "All of the shoes on sale are located on the floor directly in front of the wall." Finally, the customer has one final statement, "Ok I need a size 10." The employee then ends with, "Ok. Go ahead and grab it right over there."
This situation happens over and over and over again until the salesmen wants to detach their ears to avoid it again. Really? You've gotta be kidding me. The powers that be gave you two eyes and one mouth for a reason. Take the hint. It is highly possible that a blind man could have found that shoes before this needy customer in Pampers. It is a strange concept that someone who has had one of their senses removed can more easily find their way than the human being who has been given everything their whole life. That gives me an idea.....Sorry closed my eyes and lost the keyboard. I'll have to get back to you. In the meantime, pull your head out of your ass.
There is a new trend emerging amid retail venues across Orange County, leaving one to ponder, "Whatever happened to the good ol' days when strangers were courteous and respectful?" The retail employee was greeted with a "Hello Sir" or "Excuse me, Sir. Could you help me find this item?"
Somehow, some way, those salutations have turned in to whistling, yelling, or simply waving. The single most infuriating way to hail an employee is putting a finger in the air as if pointing to the ceiling. Message to retail customers everywhere: You will receive optimal service from said employee if you treat them as though they are another human being: Not a servant, but an actual, air breathing, English/Spanish speaking, stranger-respecting individual.
The image the customer puts forth by waving a finger in the air immediately makes the employee not want to give his or her best effort in assisting you. The idea that the customer is whistling and putting his/her finger up because they don't speak English is like trying to put a fire out with a dry piece of wood.
And while on the topic of asking for help, this new breed of those who stamp their foot and simply stare as though their thoughts are broadcast over the loud speaker is just mind-boggling. Believe it or not, as a customer you may need to actually inform an employee you need help. Contrary to popular belief, the staff cannot see every corner of the store at all times like a fly on the wall. We all have two eyes that point forward (Crazy concept, right?). So, do the working class a favor, and use your words like a grown-up!
This is the first post of this blog. Therefore, before this installment begins, here is what this blog will primarily entail. This blog is my observations (mostly complaining with a comedic spin) in the retail workplace, and how the I view events in the workplace. There are going to be times when the reader identifies with me, and times when the reader identifies with "the customer." The customer is the primary enemy of the writer while the writer is at work, however I have been forced to get along with the enemy because they provide my paycheck ;). This blog, by no means, is intended to attack the customers I am blogging about. Instead, this bog's simple function and purpose is to allow its creator (me) to blow off steam from the day and give the reader laughs along the way. That having been said, please continue!
GREAT SHOPPERS SOMETIMES EQUAL TERRIBLE PARENTS
There are times when poor parenting reaches baffling levels. A lot of times, this occurs when parents are shopping and neglect their children. The simplest way to exhibit poor parenting skills is by becoming "entranced" with an interesting product while turning the back to the kid. To become a poor parent, the following criteria must be met:
- No regard for personal space or common courtesy
- More interest invested to the product than YOUR OWN KID
- Complete disregard for the whereabouts of family members that popped out of your womb or were created by your seed.
It is amazing how easily some achieve every point of this criteria with the greatest of ease.
Exhibit A, B, C, D, E, and F: In a retail store specializing in sporting goods up to and including heavy work-out machinery, it is imperative that the customer does not turn into the child; like a child spotting the shiniest toy from across the room and is hauled in like a mosquito to a zapper, so the customer is drawn in to the bright and shiny new exercise bike or football cleat.
Side note: Those leashes parents attach to their wrist and their kid's backpack are hilarious. At least their laziness provides laughs for the employees in the back, and the kid doesn't destroy all the displays while the parents aren't looking. If parents are going to be lazy, at least they can provide a laugh. Somethin' to think about parents ;))
Now that the customer is "entranced," what happened to the kid(s)? Oh yeah, he or she is now on the exercise equipment, jumping around on it like a trampoline at Chucky Cheese. Hmm, decisions, decisions. What is more infuriating here? The fact that our tax dollars are hard at work maintaining our public parks while the customers' kids are taken to the store to play or the idea that if the peoples' kids get hurt on that machinery, the employees will get blamed for not watching the kids? That's a tie. I hate them both equally. I am on the brink of detaching all emotion from this situation. Maybe an employee void of all emotion will not have the compassion to stop that bastard kid from falling on his huge bastard dome. Maybe if the kid falls on his dome and cries out to his mommy and daddy for help, the parents will get a clue and the kid will become too scared to play where he or she is not supposed to. Sounds heartless right? Well this writer is only fighting fire with fire. How quickly is the reader goffing in disgust? About as quickly as they turned their back on their kid and the kid fell on his face.
I leave this week's readers with this:
Watch your kids! The employees of the store you are in are not certified day care employees, it is not their job to watch your kids. By the looks of Orange County, all of your kids have fallen on their faces in this scenario. Be a part of something great: The revival of intellect in your area!
I am 23 years old. I live and work (essentially) in Fullerton. I am active in several sports while finishing up my education with Cal State Fullerton and working 43 hours a week as an Assistant Manager of a retail sporting goods chain. I grew up in Corvallis, OR and always knew I was good at waiting until the last minute to write a school paper. Writing has always come naturally to me. It finally occured to me, in college, that maybe I could make a career in Entertainment Writing. I am currently writing treatments for several full feature films floating around in my head. Feel free to contact me to inquire about them. I am also proud to say that I hope to continue writing Opinion articles for the CSUF newspaper: The Daily Titan. Stay tuned!
