Well Christmastime in retail is pretty much horrifying. People generally seemed to be in good moods while shopping for their gifts (we can thank the turning of the economy for that). There weren't too many incidents that really stood out. I would have been blogging about the small things, but I was too tired because we close at 12am on the weekends leading up and then the week prior to Christmas.
But the time passed and I had a happy holiday at home. Then on the 26th of Decemeber I worked a grueling 8 hour shift. People were desperate to get out and hit up the after Christmas sales...but here is a word to the wise:
RETAILERS KNOW THAT YOU WILL BE OUT SHOPPING AND SPENDING YOUR GIFT CARDS! THEY MARK UP THE PRICES! YOU ARE FALLING VICTIM TO THE MAN DESPITE YOUR PLIGHT TO SAVE A BUCK OR TWO!
The good sales are happening right now at the end of January/beginning of February. The retailers know that you customers are very likely to head out and spend those Christmas gift cards within the month. That is why they do not mark much down. They want you to come in to spend your $25 gift card, see a ton of cute clothing, and then spend $25 after the gift card. That is the only way we make money as a company during the month of January. Nobody wants to shop after they ran up their credit card bill. We have to trick you into coming into the stores.
Usually the associates aren't very happy in January. The full time associates are getting part time hours and the part timers like myself got a whopping 10 hour average. How on earth does my boss expect me to pay when I'm making $80 a week before taxes?!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Reading is taught in schools for a reason
I would just like to remind everyone that if you are one of those shoppers who loves to watch the prices and argue with associates about them you had better be reading the pricing signs thoroughly.
Tonight I met the rudest couple in the state of Colorado (if they aren't the rudest couple I feel sorry for other retail workers!). My coworker had just left for her break and I was putting bras onto their hangers when a couple approached the counter with a piece of shapeware (the modern day girdle) and a bra. I walked around the counter...here is what happened:
"Are you ready to go?" -me
"Your signs say buy one get one 50% off but we want a bra and this thing so one of them should be 50% off." - Man
"Okay, let me check" (I ring in the prices and the bra comes up $20, the shapeware $28...both full price.
"Well it looks like one of them was not on the buy one get one sale."
"Oh this is ridiculous." -Man
"That's false advertising." - Woman
"Well I know all of the shapeware is buy one get one-" me (The woman interjects)
"Well I have a coupon for $10 off. Ring them up seperately so I can get my money's worth if you won't honor your advertised prices." -Woman
(There is nothing to say here, I just took the shapeware off the transaction and did as she asked...then tragedy struck)
"This bra is $14.99, why did it come up $20? I'm not paying that."-Woman
"Look, come here."- Man, as he beckons me toward the wall and jabs his finger at the sign above the bras. "It's right up front next to the register. This is ridiculous, you should know the prices of your merchandise."
"Sir, it says 14.99 each when you buy 2 or more, $20 if you only purchase one." -me
He reads the sign and walks away from me over to his lady friend or wife or whatever and then says something to her in a language I don't recognize and shoots me a dirty look. They decide to purchase the bra anyway and use the coupon. I inform them that the coupon can only be used once so they cannot do two separate transactions in order to use it on both items.
"You have got to be kidding me. NO, JUST TRY IT."-woman
"I can't, it says right here that I have to take it from you after you use it on a single transaction."
"Well they let me do it downstairs, just try it."-woman
Her black eyes bore into me. She stared me down until I felt like she was going to reach across the counter and scratch my eyes out. I should have called a manager over at this point...but I decided that I would just do the transactions and get those asshole people away from me as soon as possible. The man kept mumbling how ridiculous this was and he was pacing around saying other stuff in that odd language. The woman kept a stony silence and gave a loud huff when I said I had to keep her coupon...I wanted to say "if $10 means so much to you, maybe you should go on a diet instead of buy a girdle" but I would never have to courage for that. Plus, what really pisses these unreasonably angry people off is a good, old fashioned smile (grin) and a sugary sweet, "have a nice evening."
Lesson: If you are willing to fight over the price of something and the terms and conditions of a coupon, you had better be willing to read the signs and coupon carefully. You just make yourself look like an ass if you don't.
Tonight I met the rudest couple in the state of Colorado (if they aren't the rudest couple I feel sorry for other retail workers!). My coworker had just left for her break and I was putting bras onto their hangers when a couple approached the counter with a piece of shapeware (the modern day girdle) and a bra. I walked around the counter...here is what happened:
"Are you ready to go?" -me
"Your signs say buy one get one 50% off but we want a bra and this thing so one of them should be 50% off." - Man
"Okay, let me check" (I ring in the prices and the bra comes up $20, the shapeware $28...both full price.
"Well it looks like one of them was not on the buy one get one sale."
"Oh this is ridiculous." -Man
"That's false advertising." - Woman
"Well I know all of the shapeware is buy one get one-" me (The woman interjects)
"Well I have a coupon for $10 off. Ring them up seperately so I can get my money's worth if you won't honor your advertised prices." -Woman
(There is nothing to say here, I just took the shapeware off the transaction and did as she asked...then tragedy struck)
"This bra is $14.99, why did it come up $20? I'm not paying that."-Woman
"Look, come here."- Man, as he beckons me toward the wall and jabs his finger at the sign above the bras. "It's right up front next to the register. This is ridiculous, you should know the prices of your merchandise."
"Sir, it says 14.99 each when you buy 2 or more, $20 if you only purchase one." -me
He reads the sign and walks away from me over to his lady friend or wife or whatever and then says something to her in a language I don't recognize and shoots me a dirty look. They decide to purchase the bra anyway and use the coupon. I inform them that the coupon can only be used once so they cannot do two separate transactions in order to use it on both items.
"You have got to be kidding me. NO, JUST TRY IT."-woman
"I can't, it says right here that I have to take it from you after you use it on a single transaction."
"Well they let me do it downstairs, just try it."-woman
Her black eyes bore into me. She stared me down until I felt like she was going to reach across the counter and scratch my eyes out. I should have called a manager over at this point...but I decided that I would just do the transactions and get those asshole people away from me as soon as possible. The man kept mumbling how ridiculous this was and he was pacing around saying other stuff in that odd language. The woman kept a stony silence and gave a loud huff when I said I had to keep her coupon...I wanted to say "if $10 means so much to you, maybe you should go on a diet instead of buy a girdle" but I would never have to courage for that. Plus, what really pisses these unreasonably angry people off is a good, old fashioned smile (grin) and a sugary sweet, "have a nice evening."
Lesson: If you are willing to fight over the price of something and the terms and conditions of a coupon, you had better be willing to read the signs and coupon carefully. You just make yourself look like an ass if you don't.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Patients pays
Tonight I walked into work 5 minutes late for my 5pm-11:30pm shift. Fighting the traffic after a hectic day is the pits, but at least I knew my shift would be interesting because it was a change of scene, I was scheduled in lingerie tonight. My coworker who had been there all day was flustered and the place was an absolute disaster. We had a full rack of bras, panties, robes, pajamas, and under garments made to smooth out muffin top and other unsightly fat by cramming it into a small, tight tank top (basically, modern day girdles) that had to be put away.
My section also encompasses the Woman's (plus size) clothing and maternity ware, so I took a handful of sweaters and dresses that needed to be put away and began the monotony of my day. But, there is no such thing as a normal night in retail...a lesson I was quickly reminded of this evening.
A woman who must have been in her 60's or 70's peaked her head around a corner as I passed by and summoned me over. She whispered that she had unfortunately had an accident (I noticed her sweatshirt was tied around her waist and she was conveniently wearing black pants so there was no evidence of her leakage) and was shopping for new pants and underwear. Together we scoured the racks for a pant, size 24 short. After finding two pairs of black and one in navy, plus multiple tops she handed me the clothing and asked me to start her a fitting room. Typically we don't practice this particular form of customer service, as there is no fitting room attendant...but I obliged because I felt sorry for her.
Over 20 minutes later this poor woman hobbled up to the checkout counter with an armload of women's suits and asked me to take her to her fitting room. I showed her to the room and hung all of her clothing neatly and began to back out when she asked a very strange request. I have paraphrased:
"Honey, will you get me some black panties and a bag for my wet clothes?" - her
"Uh, yeah, sure. What cut and size?" - me
"I don't know my size, I took off my old panties and threw them in the garbage before I could check. Just get me the equivalent of a 24 pant...and I don't like them tight on my legs."
"Okay, I'll be right back."
I search high and low and found her 2 different kinds, one cotton and one nylon. She didn't like them and sent me out again looking for a packaged brand of cotton. I looked and looked, but we only go up to size 10 (3X) and she needed a 12 (5X). I returned to tell her this and she decided she needed a lace detail on the leg, so once again I went to look. Triumphantly, I returned with a black, size 12, lace pantie...but she noticed if you bought 3 there was a price break so I was sent out for a neutral and white pair.
By this time I was getting frustrated and my poor coworker had to manage all of the other customers and straightening duties in our section single handed. I hurried and grabbed her panties and knocked on her fitting room door. She snatched up the panties and asked me for an opinion on her blouse. We decided it was too big, so she sent me out to get a smaller size. By this time, two hours of my shift had passed and my coworker was on her break. A woman with a return was waiting at the counter and another had asked me to help her look for a good bra (a question I loathe...NO ONE HAS THE SAME DEFINITION OF A GOOD BRA!) so I scurried into the fitting room, handed off the shirt and rushed out before she could send me on another errand.
I helped the other customers, my coworker came back from break and it was my turn to take a lunch break of 30 minutes. I drank an orange juice and ate some chocolate covered pretzels while letting my feet rest and then went back to work....and to my surprise, Mrs. Pee-panties-slave-driver was waiting at the checkout counter. She wanted to be sure I got commission and wouldn't let my coworker ring her up despite the fact that regular associates are not paid on commission. Either way, I helped her and tried to ignore the plastic bag of soaked pants sitting on the counter. I was polite and patient as she detailed countless stories of buying panties and everyone being shocked at the large sizes she wears. I wanted to tell her that they were probably shocked because she was buying clothes that were at least 2 sizes too large, but I just smiled and nodded and laughed wherever it was appropriate.
Once we had all of her clothing hung in dress bags and double bagged (so her husband wouldn't be able to see how many items she purchased) she asked me to help her to her car. She had left her husband waiting in the car while she shopped for at least three hours! She didn't want to call him to come help her because she didn't want him a) to see how much she purchased and b) to get out of the warm car for fear that he might be angry. So I grabbed her bags and we slowly made the trek to the elevator, down and into the parking lot and then out to her car where I placed the bag in the back seat. I was ready for this lady to drive away, but I said, "It's been a pleasure helping you out tonight, Ma'am." to which she replied by whipping out her wallet and offering up a $5 bill! I refused because, after all, this was all in my job description AND we aren't allowed to accept tips. She smiled a huge smile and said, "I wish there were more young people like you."
I made her night and she made mine. Often times the most demanding customers are the most appreciative. Tonight I was patient and polite and smiled because I was supposed to...but as she drove off with her husband the smile was still plastered to my face. Sometimes my job is extremely rewarding. Tonight was uniquely wonderful and happiness arose from pissed pants. Who would have guessed?
My section also encompasses the Woman's (plus size) clothing and maternity ware, so I took a handful of sweaters and dresses that needed to be put away and began the monotony of my day. But, there is no such thing as a normal night in retail...a lesson I was quickly reminded of this evening.
A woman who must have been in her 60's or 70's peaked her head around a corner as I passed by and summoned me over. She whispered that she had unfortunately had an accident (I noticed her sweatshirt was tied around her waist and she was conveniently wearing black pants so there was no evidence of her leakage) and was shopping for new pants and underwear. Together we scoured the racks for a pant, size 24 short. After finding two pairs of black and one in navy, plus multiple tops she handed me the clothing and asked me to start her a fitting room. Typically we don't practice this particular form of customer service, as there is no fitting room attendant...but I obliged because I felt sorry for her.
Over 20 minutes later this poor woman hobbled up to the checkout counter with an armload of women's suits and asked me to take her to her fitting room. I showed her to the room and hung all of her clothing neatly and began to back out when she asked a very strange request. I have paraphrased:
"Honey, will you get me some black panties and a bag for my wet clothes?" - her
"Uh, yeah, sure. What cut and size?" - me
"I don't know my size, I took off my old panties and threw them in the garbage before I could check. Just get me the equivalent of a 24 pant...and I don't like them tight on my legs."
"Okay, I'll be right back."
I search high and low and found her 2 different kinds, one cotton and one nylon. She didn't like them and sent me out again looking for a packaged brand of cotton. I looked and looked, but we only go up to size 10 (3X) and she needed a 12 (5X). I returned to tell her this and she decided she needed a lace detail on the leg, so once again I went to look. Triumphantly, I returned with a black, size 12, lace pantie...but she noticed if you bought 3 there was a price break so I was sent out for a neutral and white pair.
By this time I was getting frustrated and my poor coworker had to manage all of the other customers and straightening duties in our section single handed. I hurried and grabbed her panties and knocked on her fitting room door. She snatched up the panties and asked me for an opinion on her blouse. We decided it was too big, so she sent me out to get a smaller size. By this time, two hours of my shift had passed and my coworker was on her break. A woman with a return was waiting at the counter and another had asked me to help her look for a good bra (a question I loathe...NO ONE HAS THE SAME DEFINITION OF A GOOD BRA!) so I scurried into the fitting room, handed off the shirt and rushed out before she could send me on another errand.
I helped the other customers, my coworker came back from break and it was my turn to take a lunch break of 30 minutes. I drank an orange juice and ate some chocolate covered pretzels while letting my feet rest and then went back to work....and to my surprise, Mrs. Pee-panties-slave-driver was waiting at the checkout counter. She wanted to be sure I got commission and wouldn't let my coworker ring her up despite the fact that regular associates are not paid on commission. Either way, I helped her and tried to ignore the plastic bag of soaked pants sitting on the counter. I was polite and patient as she detailed countless stories of buying panties and everyone being shocked at the large sizes she wears. I wanted to tell her that they were probably shocked because she was buying clothes that were at least 2 sizes too large, but I just smiled and nodded and laughed wherever it was appropriate.
Once we had all of her clothing hung in dress bags and double bagged (so her husband wouldn't be able to see how many items she purchased) she asked me to help her to her car. She had left her husband waiting in the car while she shopped for at least three hours! She didn't want to call him to come help her because she didn't want him a) to see how much she purchased and b) to get out of the warm car for fear that he might be angry. So I grabbed her bags and we slowly made the trek to the elevator, down and into the parking lot and then out to her car where I placed the bag in the back seat. I was ready for this lady to drive away, but I said, "It's been a pleasure helping you out tonight, Ma'am." to which she replied by whipping out her wallet and offering up a $5 bill! I refused because, after all, this was all in my job description AND we aren't allowed to accept tips. She smiled a huge smile and said, "I wish there were more young people like you."
I made her night and she made mine. Often times the most demanding customers are the most appreciative. Tonight I was patient and polite and smiled because I was supposed to...but as she drove off with her husband the smile was still plastered to my face. Sometimes my job is extremely rewarding. Tonight was uniquely wonderful and happiness arose from pissed pants. Who would have guessed?
Monday, December 6, 2010
Someone is going to sue me for this...
I am a 20 year old college student and have chosen the wonderful world of retail as my source of income. It wasn't until I accepted a job at one of America's leading department stores (I'm afraid to name it...they'd probably sue me and I would be even deeper in debt!) that I realized something...people are assholes. All of us.
I am going to share my experiences at work through this blog in hopes that my followers (if I ever get any) gain sympathy for those of us who work retail. I thought I might start off detailing an average day at work for you:
I pull into the parking lot, turn off my car and head into the store. I enter by the salon, and sometimes the putrid smell of a perm greets me. wonderful. Then I pass by the elevator and take the "employee only" stairs up to the break room. The break room has this odor unlike any other. First of all, the perm smell must travel the vents for the soul purpose of irritating the resting associates. Then there is the smell of 23 different meals that have been reheated, 30+ perfumes (women who work retail tend to bathe in perfume, I don't know why this correlation exists) and, of course, the smell of our decaying building. I think the management purposely allows poor ventilation up here so that the break room is uncomfortable. They don't want us sitting around any longer than the law demands.
I think it is against the rules, but I always clock in as soon as I can. I can't tell you how many times my company has paid me to put away my things, send last minute texts, fill up my water bottle, and get rid of bodily waste. Then I am off to wage war against the everyday shopper.
I never walk too quickly on my way to the escalator and I always just ride it down instead of stepping with it. I do this in hopes of passing time. Don't think I am lazy...believe me the elevator and escalator rides keep me sane. Not many customers bother associates who are traveling. Regardless, I meander down to the counter (I usually work in the Juniors section but you will see, I bounce around) and stash my water bottle.
Unless there is a line at the counter, I go off to check fitting rooms. You people should all be ashamed of yourselves for the messes you leave! Of course there have been times when there are piles and piles of clothing strewn across the floor, usually inside out, and I spend my first half hour folding and hanging the heap. But this mess is tame to the things some people leave us.
No lie, one day I witnessed and abandoned diaper shoved underneath the bench but my personal stories pale in comparison to those of some retail veterans. We all experience horrendous body odor, smoke, deodorant marks, and even sweat that you all leave sticking to our clothing. Sometimes the collars are stained with makeup or the gum you accidentally spit out right on one of our furriest sweaters. More people than you would believe (unless you are one of them) pee in the mini trash cans that each stall is provided with. Some women have even been known to poop and then instead of admitting it they cover their excrement with our clothing...nasty little surprise for the associates. The janitor (who cleans up vomit and toilets daily) cried when she saw her task. Ick.
After I fold, hang, and sort the clothing I can then take it out to the floor and put it back. When I first started this was the most daunting task. Other associates get annoyed when you keep asking "where does this go?" so I learned to just walk around until you find the proper location. Sometimes you know right where it goes, sometimes you know the general area, and sometimes you wander aimlessly for 20 minutes before you see it on a rack you must have passed 20 times.
Then there is register work. This is where I meet all of you "fantastic" customers...and by fantastic I mean asshole. Sure, some people are really nice and they politely decline my offer for a store credit card and we make idle chit-chat before I send them on their way...but most of you are hellions. My least favorite person is the one who checks every single price. We are a department store, not a garage sale. Just because you wish you saw 9.99 instead of 19.99 doesn't mean we have to call a manager. Some of you have no patients and then get angry because we help other customers before you...well maybe you should wait in line on the side of the quad that I am ringing people up at, sound good? I honestly do love the people who tell me their life stories as I scan and bag their merchandise though, they make the time go by much quicker. ("That dress is for a cruise to Alaska. I'm flying out next Wednesday to California and staying with some friends before we all board the ship. I thought black would be the best because I've put on some weight recently. I just started watching those shows about cupcake bakeries and decided to try making my own cupcake recipe. It's taken me months of testing to find a delicious frosting recipe and unfortunately it has all gone straight to my hips. Do you think this cut will draw the eye up and away from them?")
Every single shift someone will ask for the directions to the bathroom (even men). Every shift someone who doesn't speak clear English asks for an extra discount coupon (this is not a racists statement, it is true, Immigrants love coupons). Every single shift someone makes me smile and/or laugh. Every single shift someone makes me blink twice before responding (I do this to symbolize the stupidity of their question and collect my thoughts before answering). Every single shift the associates gossip about each other. Every single shift I lose track of time...but once I catch it, it takes an eternity for my shift to end. Every single closing shift someone decides to stay at least 5 minutes after we are closed.
Breaks speed by too quickly (15 minutes for a quick rest and 30 minutes for lunch...if you don't take lunch it will be taken out for you, so you might as well sit in the break room instead of hang out on the floor).
When I get off work there is always a strange, grimy feeling on my hands and it takes a good scrubbing to rid myself of customer cooties. A few months ago I got pink eye, and I am 100% positive that it was from a cochina that didn't wash before handing me their money. I hope he or she had pink eye and I didn't get it from rubbing someone's crap particles in my eye, but I'm not naive enough to believe it fully.
I am going to share my experiences at work through this blog in hopes that my followers (if I ever get any) gain sympathy for those of us who work retail. I thought I might start off detailing an average day at work for you:
I pull into the parking lot, turn off my car and head into the store. I enter by the salon, and sometimes the putrid smell of a perm greets me. wonderful. Then I pass by the elevator and take the "employee only" stairs up to the break room. The break room has this odor unlike any other. First of all, the perm smell must travel the vents for the soul purpose of irritating the resting associates. Then there is the smell of 23 different meals that have been reheated, 30+ perfumes (women who work retail tend to bathe in perfume, I don't know why this correlation exists) and, of course, the smell of our decaying building. I think the management purposely allows poor ventilation up here so that the break room is uncomfortable. They don't want us sitting around any longer than the law demands.
I think it is against the rules, but I always clock in as soon as I can. I can't tell you how many times my company has paid me to put away my things, send last minute texts, fill up my water bottle, and get rid of bodily waste. Then I am off to wage war against the everyday shopper.
I never walk too quickly on my way to the escalator and I always just ride it down instead of stepping with it. I do this in hopes of passing time. Don't think I am lazy...believe me the elevator and escalator rides keep me sane. Not many customers bother associates who are traveling. Regardless, I meander down to the counter (I usually work in the Juniors section but you will see, I bounce around) and stash my water bottle.
Unless there is a line at the counter, I go off to check fitting rooms. You people should all be ashamed of yourselves for the messes you leave! Of course there have been times when there are piles and piles of clothing strewn across the floor, usually inside out, and I spend my first half hour folding and hanging the heap. But this mess is tame to the things some people leave us.
No lie, one day I witnessed and abandoned diaper shoved underneath the bench but my personal stories pale in comparison to those of some retail veterans. We all experience horrendous body odor, smoke, deodorant marks, and even sweat that you all leave sticking to our clothing. Sometimes the collars are stained with makeup or the gum you accidentally spit out right on one of our furriest sweaters. More people than you would believe (unless you are one of them) pee in the mini trash cans that each stall is provided with. Some women have even been known to poop and then instead of admitting it they cover their excrement with our clothing...nasty little surprise for the associates. The janitor (who cleans up vomit and toilets daily) cried when she saw her task. Ick.
After I fold, hang, and sort the clothing I can then take it out to the floor and put it back. When I first started this was the most daunting task. Other associates get annoyed when you keep asking "where does this go?" so I learned to just walk around until you find the proper location. Sometimes you know right where it goes, sometimes you know the general area, and sometimes you wander aimlessly for 20 minutes before you see it on a rack you must have passed 20 times.
Then there is register work. This is where I meet all of you "fantastic" customers...and by fantastic I mean asshole. Sure, some people are really nice and they politely decline my offer for a store credit card and we make idle chit-chat before I send them on their way...but most of you are hellions. My least favorite person is the one who checks every single price. We are a department store, not a garage sale. Just because you wish you saw 9.99 instead of 19.99 doesn't mean we have to call a manager. Some of you have no patients and then get angry because we help other customers before you...well maybe you should wait in line on the side of the quad that I am ringing people up at, sound good? I honestly do love the people who tell me their life stories as I scan and bag their merchandise though, they make the time go by much quicker. ("That dress is for a cruise to Alaska. I'm flying out next Wednesday to California and staying with some friends before we all board the ship. I thought black would be the best because I've put on some weight recently. I just started watching those shows about cupcake bakeries and decided to try making my own cupcake recipe. It's taken me months of testing to find a delicious frosting recipe and unfortunately it has all gone straight to my hips. Do you think this cut will draw the eye up and away from them?")
Every single shift someone will ask for the directions to the bathroom (even men). Every shift someone who doesn't speak clear English asks for an extra discount coupon (this is not a racists statement, it is true, Immigrants love coupons). Every single shift someone makes me smile and/or laugh. Every single shift someone makes me blink twice before responding (I do this to symbolize the stupidity of their question and collect my thoughts before answering). Every single shift the associates gossip about each other. Every single shift I lose track of time...but once I catch it, it takes an eternity for my shift to end. Every single closing shift someone decides to stay at least 5 minutes after we are closed.
Breaks speed by too quickly (15 minutes for a quick rest and 30 minutes for lunch...if you don't take lunch it will be taken out for you, so you might as well sit in the break room instead of hang out on the floor).
When I get off work there is always a strange, grimy feeling on my hands and it takes a good scrubbing to rid myself of customer cooties. A few months ago I got pink eye, and I am 100% positive that it was from a cochina that didn't wash before handing me their money. I hope he or she had pink eye and I didn't get it from rubbing someone's crap particles in my eye, but I'm not naive enough to believe it fully.
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