Apr. 19, 2006 - The Retail Blues.

As I get a little older, a little wiser and a little grumpier, I am also growing increasingly sick of working in retail. Over the Christmas period I marvelled at the lack of dignity among shoppers with the respect to just how far they will go for a bargain. You see, I was raised in a household where paying a little bit more for something of better quality was a good thing.

The day after Boxing Day is the first day of the sales. I was working from7-7. As I walked from my car to the staff entrance at about 6.55am there were shoppers waiting by the doors of the shop. You consumer-parasites. I did an excellent job of giving them one of my filthiest, bitchiest looks that can only be realised at such an unGodly hour after absolutely no sleep.

The public generally see the company I work for as being badly run. Through direct interaction with some of the manager's and other first-hand experience, I whole-heartedly agree. On this particular day, they made an exception and cleverly introduced "Hourly sales" for example "At 2pm, all Canningvale towels in the Mosaic range will be $5 each". I believe in giving credit where it's due. This strategy kept shoppers in the store for the entire 12 hour trading period and buying things EVERY hour.

At 1.58pm, two double doors from the dock flew open revealing a trolley covered with towels, a scared logistics woman standing at the trolley-handle and two managers either side of her wearing black suits, white shirts, ties and armed with their phones.

Target destination: The empty trundle table located between the Vue and Sheridan towels

Deadline: 2pm

Enemy: The desperate customers who are circling the target table searching the selling floor for the towel transportation.

The logistics lady and two managers take a deep breath, look at one another and nod. They are about a minute walk from the table but who knows how quick the shoppers will spot them. They about halfway there before an overweight lady in a hot pink shirt and plastic glasses spots them. Cleverly she doesn't say a word, just begins to walk towards the trolley. Soon the entire throng has seen what she has and they make a run for it. The managers hold their positions along side the trolley while the logistics lady grips the handle so tightly her knuckle go white.

I was standing in the books department about 10 metres from this activity. What occured in the following few minutes was disgraceful, shameful and one of the reasons I hate working in retail. The people swarmed like bees around that trolley until the only thing visible of the original combat team was the head of the 6'4 African manager who had a frightened look on his face as these shoppers dove for the towels. I am not exaggerating when I say TOWELS WERE THROWN INTO THE AIR, people snatched towels out of one another's hands and a lady at the back of the crowd was pushed back so hard by someone trying to get out of the mess that she fell over.

As these people approached our counter to pay, I was rude and short with them. One man had the sleeve of his t-shirt torn and the original lady in the hot pink t-shirt had one of the arms of her glasses broken. We lent her sticky tape to put them back together. Some of the more normal customers had stood back and watched this display of consumer-savagery with me and were equally disgusted.

Another reason I hate working in retail is due to the level of stupidity. When managers, customers, colleagues say or ask stupid things, I not only have to tolerate it, I have to respond politely and it is slowly killing my soul. Here is a typical scenario that has been eating away at me (After work yesterday, I released built up tension by representing this situation pictorally and then doing an interperative dance):

Seriously dickhead, there is a sign the size of you and bigger than me stating what the sale is. Why do you feel the need to ask? WHY?

My direct manager suffers from a terrible case of small man syndrome and has probably been an under-acheiver for the better part of his life. This results in him exercising his power excessively and being unnecessarily rude to his subordinates. The other day he wanted to know who was looking after a specific area within our department and approached me

"Who is looking after the pen bar?"

"I don't know. I've been working on returns"

"You didn't answer my question. Who is looking after the pen bar?"

1. OK fuckface, when reflecting on my response you will find that the first sentence stated "I don't know". This is my answer to your question.

2. Through the process of elimination (which is probably a little complicated for you) you would be able to ascertain that it is not me who is covering the pen bar as I am working on something else. This leaves the other 5 people within our department to look after the pen bar.

Then yesterday while on my break, I was sitting down out the back in our reserve reading a magazine.

"Are you on a lunch break?"  I turn around and see a woman who looks vaguely familar. She has a sling on and I remember she is the team leader for the cosmetics department downstairs.

"Yes," I reply.

"ARE YOU AWARE YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED FOOD IN THE RESERVE"  she practically yells in a voice so irritating it makes me want to follow Van Gough's example and hack my ears off

"Are you aware I don't have food out here?" I respond. She waits a moment, feels appropriately stupid and then says

"Well good, as long as you know you can't have food back here"

"Well obviously I do because I ate in the food court".

"I'm doing an OH & S check". I give her a that's-nice-nod, mixed with a you're-a-moron-look, while she stands there for a moment longer with her thumb up her ass. She doesn't have the authority to get me in trouble and I secretly hope that she will say something else stupid so I can give her another smart ass response. A nice lady from my department walks out and the mole starts having a go at her. After a couple more moments she walks away.

After my lunch break I go up to one of my friends and say

"Who is that whore with the sling?"

"Oh God, that's Jan. How come?"  I tell my friend what happened. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes

"Do you know why she has a sling on?"

"No"

"She hurt herself downstairs in her department. Why doesn't she fix up her own fucking OH & S before she starts ragging on us".

Bitch.

Apr. 19, 2006 - Untitled Comment

Apr. 19, 2006 - Untitled Comment

Apr. 19, 2006 - Retail therapy

Apr. 20, 2006 - <i>Untitled Comment</i>

Apr. 21, 2006 - Untitled Comment

Apr. 21, 2006 - <i>Untitled Comment</i>

Apr. 21, 2006 - it IS a small world

Apr. 25, 2006 - Untitled Comment