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.
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