Well, tomorrow's it! My last day at the retail job...at least this particular retail job. Good chance I'll end up with another one, although that's against the plan. The plan is to branch out into something completely different. But as we all know, our resumes handcuff us into monatany. When the money gets tight and the "something completely different" is dragging its heels, it's time to dust off the retail-heavy resume and start again. This time around though, I hope to use my retail experience as a back-up plan and not the meat and potatoes for what it is I end up doing.
Oh man, what am I going to end up doing tomorrow?? Will I absolutely lose it on a customer? Multiple customers?? I'd like to think that I'm a little more mature than that... I'd like to think...
One thing that I've learned this time around in the retail universe is apathy equals success. The less I care, the better the mood I'm in. The better the mood I'm in, the better I am at my retail job. When I'm good at my retail job, not caring, getting shit done, and still blatently making fun of customers to their faces, everyone's happy. Even the customers whom are getting made fun of, because they're too stupid to realize they're being made fun of.
One other thing that I've learned from the retail universe is that not just customers in my store are stupid. Everyone is stupid. In a room of 18 random people, I'd suspect that four might be normal and suitable to talk to and possibly befriend. The other twelve, stupid. It's science.
If I end up freaking out tomorrow or saying something that I normally might regret, due to damaging my job security, I'll let you know.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
Tweeter Update.
I haven't blogged lately. Sorry about that. I've been "tweeting" for some reason--probably because when a customer does something stupid, I can post it immediately. But I don't even follow Twitter so I'm not positive why I've been exclusive to it lately.
At any rate, for those of you that don't follow Twitter, here are my latest "tweets" (I hate this terminology).
Idiot Customer: "I bought this shirt the other day. It's too hot to wear on a day like today. Why do they make them so heavy?"
My employee says, while fitting a backpack on a customer, "First I need you to--" Customer interrupts, "--take my shirt off?" "No."
At any rate, for those of you that don't follow Twitter, here are my latest "tweets" (I hate this terminology).
Idiot Customer: "I bought this shirt the other day. It's too hot to wear on a day like today. Why do they make them so heavy?"
My employee says, while fitting a backpack on a customer, "First I need you to--" Customer interrupts, "--take my shirt off?" "No."
A customer just asked me to "assemble an outfit" for her. I am officially in the wrong business.
Guy comes in to exchange his backpack, unzips it and a gigantic bag of weed falls out. "Oh, there it is! I thought I lost it!" He's happy
Horribly Mean & Stupid Woman on Phone: "Where are you located?" Me: "1200 Pearl St, Boulder" HM&SW: "That means absolutely nothing to me!"
"I want to buy this for my son, but I want him to grow into it. Will it fit him in 3 yrs? 5 yrs??" Fmj.
You will never hear me say, "What a beautiful day outside. I think I'll go to the mall and shop all day." I am apparently in the minority.
"Where are your shirts for walking?"
,,
Monday, June 11, 2012
Monday.
A conversation between one of my employees (we'll call him Lonnie) and a customer that just happened while Lonnie was fitting him for a backpack.
Lonnie: "Ok, I just need you to--"
*Interruption*
Customer: "--take my shirt off?" he quickly says with 100% sincerity.
Lonnie: "No. Point to your hip bones."
Customer: "Oh...okay." said with extreme disappointment.
Also, I have a Twitter account now so I can tweet about dipshits from my phone. It's @matttodd51.
Lonnie: "Ok, I just need you to--"
*Interruption*
Customer: "--take my shirt off?" he quickly says with 100% sincerity.
Lonnie: "No. Point to your hip bones."
Customer: "Oh...okay." said with extreme disappointment.
Also, I have a Twitter account now so I can tweet about dipshits from my phone. It's @matttodd51.
Monday, June 4, 2012
47.
7:55pm
I was preparing for my store to close in five minutes. Of course, there were several people gawking around, oblivious to the fact that we were, in fact, getting ready to shut down. No big deal. I go around to each customer and politely give them a "heads up" that we were getting ready to close for the night, otherwise they would loiter for hours and somehow multiply while they were in there. Every customer was completely surprised but okay with that news. "Oh, you're closing? Guess I'll have to come back when I have more time to shop! Hahahahaha!" Blah Blah Blah, yeah whatever. Just leave.
8:00pm
As 8pm rolls around, I turn off the music (actually, I turn it way up for a second to get everyone's attention, then abruptly shut it off) and lock the doors (loudly, as in rattling the doors and clicking the locks several times). Unfortunately, two more people had snuck in before 8, so after locking up, I let them know what's going on too. This is the busiest the store has been in eight hours of work today.
8:04pm
Most everyone slides out within a minute or two. A couple people buy some shit. A kid and his dad ask me to "explain each backpack to them". I fly through my spiel hastily, but professionally. They're satisfied, and they get that it's time to go. They are the next to last to leave. No big deal. But there's one lady, she's got half the store in the dressing room, trying it all on, trying to decide which crap (that I'm sure she doesn't need) to buy.
8:10pm
She was actually the first person that I told that we were closing, because I saw her with 47 garments heading towards the fitting room. An enormous mound of clothes in her arms--literally looks like one of everything. Tried to nip that one in the bud--apparently it didn't work. I'm starting to get severley annoyed--but I'm still composed, professional, and polite.
8:18pm
I guess some things didn't fit or she wasn't too keen on the colors, 'cause now instead of trying shit on, she's back to shopping. There are literally 47 pieces of clothing in the dressing room. I ask, "Would you like me to start putting some of these back?"
"No, I haven't decided which ones I'm keeping yet." She continues shopping in a silent, empty store with two employees staring at her.
Super.
8:32pm
This is getting ridiculous. Ten minutes is about all I'll give someone before I start becoming not their friend. "Ma'am, we're shut down for the night. We open back up at 10am. I can hold some of that stuff until tomorrow if you like?"
She becomes annoyed that I am rushing her. Apparently this woman thinks that since she is a paying customer that she can dictate her own hours of operation. She starts sighing loudly so I can hear her. I don't care.
8:38pm
She ends up buying four out of the 47 pieces that she tried on. Not a word was said during the tranaction.
I now have to put back 43 pieces of clothing.
8:49pm
I leave work, aggravated.
My store is open for ten hours during the day. 10 o'clock in the AM to 8 o'clock in the PM. If you can't make it in to buy your shit within that time frame, then please go fuck yourself.
The End.
I was preparing for my store to close in five minutes. Of course, there were several people gawking around, oblivious to the fact that we were, in fact, getting ready to shut down. No big deal. I go around to each customer and politely give them a "heads up" that we were getting ready to close for the night, otherwise they would loiter for hours and somehow multiply while they were in there. Every customer was completely surprised but okay with that news. "Oh, you're closing? Guess I'll have to come back when I have more time to shop! Hahahahaha!" Blah Blah Blah, yeah whatever. Just leave.
8:00pm
As 8pm rolls around, I turn off the music (actually, I turn it way up for a second to get everyone's attention, then abruptly shut it off) and lock the doors (loudly, as in rattling the doors and clicking the locks several times). Unfortunately, two more people had snuck in before 8, so after locking up, I let them know what's going on too. This is the busiest the store has been in eight hours of work today.
8:04pm
Most everyone slides out within a minute or two. A couple people buy some shit. A kid and his dad ask me to "explain each backpack to them". I fly through my spiel hastily, but professionally. They're satisfied, and they get that it's time to go. They are the next to last to leave. No big deal. But there's one lady, she's got half the store in the dressing room, trying it all on, trying to decide which crap (that I'm sure she doesn't need) to buy.
8:10pm
She was actually the first person that I told that we were closing, because I saw her with 47 garments heading towards the fitting room. An enormous mound of clothes in her arms--literally looks like one of everything. Tried to nip that one in the bud--apparently it didn't work. I'm starting to get severley annoyed--but I'm still composed, professional, and polite.
8:18pm
I guess some things didn't fit or she wasn't too keen on the colors, 'cause now instead of trying shit on, she's back to shopping. There are literally 47 pieces of clothing in the dressing room. I ask, "Would you like me to start putting some of these back?"
"No, I haven't decided which ones I'm keeping yet." She continues shopping in a silent, empty store with two employees staring at her.
Super.
8:32pm
This is getting ridiculous. Ten minutes is about all I'll give someone before I start becoming not their friend. "Ma'am, we're shut down for the night. We open back up at 10am. I can hold some of that stuff until tomorrow if you like?"
She becomes annoyed that I am rushing her. Apparently this woman thinks that since she is a paying customer that she can dictate her own hours of operation. She starts sighing loudly so I can hear her. I don't care.
8:38pm
She ends up buying four out of the 47 pieces that she tried on. Not a word was said during the tranaction.
I now have to put back 43 pieces of clothing.
8:49pm
I leave work, aggravated.
My store is open for ten hours during the day. 10 o'clock in the AM to 8 o'clock in the PM. If you can't make it in to buy your shit within that time frame, then please go fuck yourself.
The End.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Email Complaint.
The following email chain was copied and pasted from my work email minutes ago.
Hello everybody. I have a customer who rolled up to the Pearl St. location last night at (according to his watch) 5 minutes until 8:00. We’ve checked the time the alarm was set, and nothing in the closing procedure gave Jeff nor I reason to think that the store was shut down unnecessarily early. That being said, he is a bit unhappy due to his perception that the store was closed before scheduled time. He and his wife were coming in to pick up a Kenai for his daughter. He is requesting that we give him the sale price on this. Jeff and I feel that it is not unreasonable and a chance to get another fan for life. If you do not have the product in-house, offer him the in-store shipping, and if we need to credit something back on our end, reply to this e-mail with the order number and the amount we need to credit him. His name is Jon Wolfe, and he plans to come in this evening between 5:00 and 8:00.
My response:
If Jon Wolfe ever ends up reading this post...it was my turd wrapped in your Kenai jacket, Jon. Maybe next time you can buy your fucking jacket during the ten hours that the store is actually open.
Love,
Matt
.
Hello everybody. I have a customer who rolled up to the Pearl St. location last night at (according to his watch) 5 minutes until 8:00. We’ve checked the time the alarm was set, and nothing in the closing procedure gave Jeff nor I reason to think that the store was shut down unnecessarily early. That being said, he is a bit unhappy due to his perception that the store was closed before scheduled time. He and his wife were coming in to pick up a Kenai for his daughter. He is requesting that we give him the sale price on this. Jeff and I feel that it is not unreasonable and a chance to get another fan for life. If you do not have the product in-house, offer him the in-store shipping, and if we need to credit something back on our end, reply to this e-mail with the order number and the amount we need to credit him. His name is Jon Wolfe, and he plans to come in this evening between 5:00 and 8:00.
My response:
As the closing manager last night, I can assure everyone involved that we did not close the gates until 8pm. It's unfortunate that an extremely slow watch on the wrist of a customer warranted a complaint and investigation. My faith in humanity has once again been compromised.
Can I hold a particular size for this customer?
God Save Us,
Matt
If Jon Wolfe ever ends up reading this post...it was my turd wrapped in your Kenai jacket, Jon. Maybe next time you can buy your fucking jacket during the ten hours that the store is actually open.
Love,
Matt
.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Memorial Day.
When in retail, Memorial Day is a living, breathing hell. It's about as bad as Christmas Eve or Black Friday--maybe worse. The reason being is that everyone you know has a long weekend--they are drinking beer, going to the lake, having backyard BBQs, and enjoying the kickoff to summer.
Everyone you don't know has decided to go shopping. It doesn't matter if your particular store is having a sale or not, the masses have decided what better way to enjoy an extended, summertime weekend than to go to the mall and buy unnecessary crap. Go to the cemetery and lay flowers on your war-vet grandfather's tombstone? Nope, spend two full hours in Matt's store trying to figure out which shirt won't shrink as much. Float around the lake with a cooler full of cold ones? Nada, see how many shopping bags you can accumulate during a three-day crap-buying frenzy. Idiots.
So needless to say, I'm already pissed that I signed up for this. Over ten years into it--still not sure how it happened. And when I get absolute morons filling my day with stupidity, it amplifies my frustrations even more.
A sampling of the ridiculous questions that were asked over the weekend:
Dipshit #1: "How do I tell what size this is?" The shirt that this gentleman is looking at is not unlike any other shirt that everyone has in their closet. The size of the garment is clearly marked on the shirt-tag, and it's even listed a second time on the price tag. He's frantically looking at the sleeves, the hanger, the rack it's hanging on--every place except for the fucking tag, where all sizes are always marked on all shirts. "It's right here, dude. On the tag." I explain.
Dipshit #2: "Is this raincoat waterproof?"
Dipshit #3: "Is this jacket meant to be worn over something else?" As in, this ass clown was in the process of taking his shirt off and trying the jacket on over his bare chest. There was absolutely no mistaking this jacket for a shirt. In fact, it was one of those raincoats that Dipshit #2 was asking about. "Most people wear a shirt or something under their jacket, but it's your call bud." I answer.
Dipshit #4: "Hi Matt. Do you work here?" Unfortunately, I have to wear a name tag at this particular retail shop. And in this instance, I obviously was. I've got nothing else to say about this one...
Dipshit #5: "Is this the same jacket I bought from you all?
Me: "I don't know. Did you just buy one from us?
Dipshit #5: "No, it's been a few years."
Hope you all enjoyed your holiday weekend.
Everyone you don't know has decided to go shopping. It doesn't matter if your particular store is having a sale or not, the masses have decided what better way to enjoy an extended, summertime weekend than to go to the mall and buy unnecessary crap. Go to the cemetery and lay flowers on your war-vet grandfather's tombstone? Nope, spend two full hours in Matt's store trying to figure out which shirt won't shrink as much. Float around the lake with a cooler full of cold ones? Nada, see how many shopping bags you can accumulate during a three-day crap-buying frenzy. Idiots.
So needless to say, I'm already pissed that I signed up for this. Over ten years into it--still not sure how it happened. And when I get absolute morons filling my day with stupidity, it amplifies my frustrations even more.
A sampling of the ridiculous questions that were asked over the weekend:
Dipshit #1: "How do I tell what size this is?" The shirt that this gentleman is looking at is not unlike any other shirt that everyone has in their closet. The size of the garment is clearly marked on the shirt-tag, and it's even listed a second time on the price tag. He's frantically looking at the sleeves, the hanger, the rack it's hanging on--every place except for the fucking tag, where all sizes are always marked on all shirts. "It's right here, dude. On the tag." I explain.
Dipshit #2: "Is this raincoat waterproof?"
Dipshit #3: "Is this jacket meant to be worn over something else?" As in, this ass clown was in the process of taking his shirt off and trying the jacket on over his bare chest. There was absolutely no mistaking this jacket for a shirt. In fact, it was one of those raincoats that Dipshit #2 was asking about. "Most people wear a shirt or something under their jacket, but it's your call bud." I answer.
Dipshit #4: "Hi Matt. Do you work here?" Unfortunately, I have to wear a name tag at this particular retail shop. And in this instance, I obviously was. I've got nothing else to say about this one...
Dipshit #5: "Is this the same jacket I bought from you all?
Me: "I don't know. Did you just buy one from us?
Dipshit #5: "No, it's been a few years."
Hope you all enjoyed your holiday weekend.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Hippie Nonsense.
This is a Real Thing.
In this entry I am not going to bitch about the frustrations of retail and dealing with the general public everyday. I am going to instead bitch about a select demographic that frequents my Boulder, Colorado store. The hippie.
In this instance, a hippie has approached upper management of my store (definitely not me) and asked to place this homemade "Gratitude For Water" crap on our cash wrap for customers to take with them. If you can't tell by the picture, it's a star-shaped tin with small elaminated pieces of paper with printed sayings on them, such as, "Love and Gratitude For Water" that you are supposed to tape near your faucet at home, so you remember to thank Jesus or Buddha or Lemmy for the water.
I'm sure that wasting water is not a great thing. But because of this hippie-chick's nonsense that is forced upon me daily, I now let the water run about a minute or two longer after I'm done washing my hands, out of pure spite. So now, she's wasting more water than she's saving. See how that happens? She should probably get off her hippie soap box before she kills any more fish.
Fuck You, Weather-Hippie.
Scene: It's a cold, rainy day.
Hippie: "Enjoying the weather?"
Me: "Ha! Yeah, pretty gloomy out there." Thinking he spoke with sarcasm.
Hippie: "No, it's amazing. We need water. I want what's good for the earth and not what we as humans prefer."
Me: Thoughts of decking a hippie and burning down Pearl Street engulf my mind's eye. I grit my teeth and smile.
FMJ.
In this entry I am not going to bitch about the frustrations of retail and dealing with the general public everyday. I am going to instead bitch about a select demographic that frequents my Boulder, Colorado store. The hippie.
In this instance, a hippie has approached upper management of my store (definitely not me) and asked to place this homemade "Gratitude For Water" crap on our cash wrap for customers to take with them. If you can't tell by the picture, it's a star-shaped tin with small elaminated pieces of paper with printed sayings on them, such as, "Love and Gratitude For Water" that you are supposed to tape near your faucet at home, so you remember to thank Jesus or Buddha or Lemmy for the water.
I'm sure that wasting water is not a great thing. But because of this hippie-chick's nonsense that is forced upon me daily, I now let the water run about a minute or two longer after I'm done washing my hands, out of pure spite. So now, she's wasting more water than she's saving. See how that happens? She should probably get off her hippie soap box before she kills any more fish.
Fuck You, Weather-Hippie.
Scene: It's a cold, rainy day.
Hippie: "Enjoying the weather?"
Me: "Ha! Yeah, pretty gloomy out there." Thinking he spoke with sarcasm.
Hippie: "No, it's amazing. We need water. I want what's good for the earth and not what we as humans prefer."
Me: Thoughts of decking a hippie and burning down Pearl Street engulf my mind's eye. I grit my teeth and smile.
FMJ.
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