The Internet Does Not Make You Smart.

Don't get me wrong; I am a fan of the internet  After all, without it, I wouldn't have this wonderful place to house my rants!  What I hate about the internet (well, besides its ability to render a generation nearly illiterate in less than a decade...) is its leniency.  Anyone with half a brain can post a website and assert their authority on a given subject and the uneducated masses suddenly take their word as fact.

With the endless stream of (often incorrect) information floating around, your over zealous, self proclaimed "geek" will spend copious amounts of time web surfing and then come in to a store to try to "test" the employee, aka ME.  This annoys me to no end.  Not because I do not have the answer.  Not because I get embarrassed if I do not, in fact, have the answer.  Certainly not because I am afraid of being tested.  No, it annoys me because your answer is often the most ludicrous answer I have ever heard and being a thick headed moron who believes anything he/she reads on the internet, he/she will not back down despite the evidence contrary to his/her belief.

I have one or two of these people a day and it would please me more than I can express to punch them in their smug little faces.  I do not give a shit if @TheRealBillGates or @TheRealTimCook (made up Twitter handles.  All accuracies are completely coincidental.) said on Twitter that their company is releasing a computer tomorrow that shoots laser beams.  I do not sell that product because it doesn't exist.  You standing in front of me arguing about it is not to going produce said HYPOTHETICAL product out of thin air.

Furthermore, I do not give a shit if your mother's friend's brother's sister's girlfriend's dog's owner's collegue's aunt's grammie's uncle's wife's boss's son said that if you do x-y-z you can turn your cell phone into a taser gun and your mother's friend's brother's sister's girlfriend's dog's owner's collegue's aunt's grammie's uncle's wife's boss's son read on the internet how to accomplish this task so you now demand that I show you this feat because it ISN'T REAL!

Pulling your "I read it on the internet" elitist bullshit on me is not going to work.  I have the internet too, bitches.  I also have the common sense to know when something is a rumor and when something holds weight.  You are not making me look stupid, but holding your ground when you are oh so obviously wrong makes you look like a stubborn fool.

Here is a tip, really consider the content you are reading before you go spouting off at the mouth to people who may actually know what they are talking about.  Maybe entertain the possibility that the original information you absorbed was incorrect.

But hell, what do I know?  I'm just typing it on the internet.

Say It, Don't Spray It.

I am not grossed out very easily.  I can watch an undead human delightfully consume the entrails of another human in zombie flicks and not flinch.  I have discovered that the one thing that sends me gagging is getting spat on by a stranger.

As the spitter, do you hope the other person doesn't realize what just happened, or do you do bring those droplets of spittle to the forefront of the conversation?  I can say as the frequent recipient of this disgusting occurrence that I would at least like an acknowledgement followed by an admission of embarrassment and remorse.  I mean, at the very least, crack a joke about it but do not pretend it didn't happen.

Working in the customer service industry requires me to be polite and on my best behavior. Does that require me to suppress my disgust with the fact that your bodily fluid had now found a home on my skin?  Am I allowed to awkwardly wipe the droplets off, or is that impolite?  Would it be going too far if I freaked out and excused myself to shower? 

The moral of the story folks, "Keep it in your mouth."  And yes, that IS what she said.

PSA for Dickheads

Have you ever heard the phrase, "You'll catch more flies with honey"? Why one would want a collection of flies is beyond me, but I'm guessing that isn't quite the point. I believe it is insinuating that by being nice you are more likely to get what you want. (And if I'm wrong this entire post has just failed!)

I wish we could hang that on a sign at every entrance at every business just to remind people they should stop being dickheads.

Take, for instance, the douchetool that decided screaming at me while a mere three fingers length from my face was the best way to get what he wanted. If you're reading, Supreme Douche of Douchebaggary, I would like you to know it had just the opposite effect. I knew I couldn't break your nose (which was what I wanted so badly) and keep the job I love so I really just wanted to do anything UNhelpful. Don't fuck with the people who can help you (or who make your food).

I get it, you went to a different store (not a different location of the same company, but a different retailer all together) and they told you to come here, but you have to ask yourself is it me who is the fool because we cannot perform the task they said we could, or is it your dumb ass for taking the words of a non *insert company I work for* employee as gold? I'm definitely thinking the latter.

My solution to your temper tantrum? Well, I tried to draw a parallel between your behavior and that of something else to figure out how to deal. Hm. What could it be? Suddenly, it came to me! You are acting remarkably like a 2 year old who was just told "no" to some candy at the grocery store. And what does Mom do when you're throwing a fit? She blatantly ignores you and goes on about her business until you cry so much you wear yourself out.

Maybe not the best solution for the customer, but trust me sir, it was the best solution for your face, you entitled piece of shit. :)

So, in closing, I would like to encourage all of you fellow consumers to ask yourself one question when making the decision to talk to a customer service employee, "Is this a dick move?" If you just tweak your behavior slightly, you'll get what you want and we will be less likely to become the next postal worker.

Thank you and enjoy the show.

Can I Get a New Sandwich Please?

In my many years in the wonderful world of retail I have had a lot of demanding customers. People always think they are the most important person in the establishment. Some requests are completely unreasonable, others make sense.

Every once in awhile I hang up my sales specialist cap and put on my customer cap. I tend to think that having the horrible experiences I've had makes me an ideal customer. Apparently the wonderful employees of a sandwich shop in the mall where I work did not think so.

I usually pack my lunch. It's cheaper and frankly I'm kind of picky. This day I was running late so I had to skip the packing and succumb to the food in our mediocre food court.

I chose the sub shop in an effort to try to be a little healthier. Big mistake.

There was one person ahead of me in line and probably 4 employees. The point is there was no rush and they weren't busy. I also have a pretty simple request; turkey, lettuce, tomato, cucumber and mustard. Simple. And only two customers.

As the girl in front of me patiently awaited our lunch, her name was called. About a minute later, she returns with an unwrapped, bitten from sandwich. They inadvertently gave her my sandwich when hers was in the toaster. No biggie.

Until the sandwich gal attempted to throw that sandwich in a new bag and give it to me. Ew.

I'm positive that broke a hundred different OSHA regulations. The other customer and I exchanged worried looks. If they are willing to give a customer a bitten from sandwich, what other health violations are they willing to overlook?!

I politely asked for a new sandwich. Mind you, I had already burned half of my lunch break because only one person was actually making sandwiches. That considered, I think I was being pretty damned patient. Until she audibly sighed at my request. Bitch.

Needless to say, she refused to make my sandwich. Apparently I was being unreasonable. Pretty sure they should have given me my sandwich free but I was too exhausted to fight. At least this one wasn't bitten out of.....

Hey! Now That You're Gone....

Hi, friends!  Here's an update:  I left my job!  Gasp!  I did it!  And it feels great.  Have no fear for I will not allow it to impede my ability to keep your bellies contracting with laughter.  I accepted a position with another company and I am quickly learning that the stupidity of mankind is a constant.  In fact, here's a hilarious one.

Unfortunately, fear of libel, slander and defamation law suits prevent me from stating the name of my former employer.  I think that picturing any big box retailer will suffice for those of you who don't know me personally.

Anyhow, it has been roughly 3 weeks since I left my job.  Today I trotted happily to my mailbox to see what surprises lurked.  Would it be another coupon enticing me to spend money I don't have?  Would it be those pesky utility companies outrageously demanding I actually pay to use things like water and electricity (pfft! The audacity of some people!)?  To my astonishment, there was a letter from my former employer asking me to complete a survey regarding my wasted six years with them.  Let's fill it out together!

"How well did we train you for your position?"
Hmm.  Let's see.  Well, your scale doesn't allow for verbatim comments.  That's a shame.  I have to rate on a five point scale from "Very Poor" to "Extremely Well."  Let's first refer back to an earlier blog post of mine entitled Me No English So Good.  If you cannot take the time to properly spell and grammar check my learnings, how much do you really care about my training and development?  When I expressed the desire to learn about other processes and departments within in the store something always came up to get in the way of said training.  Lest we forget the 4 home theater installs I was supposed to get to go observe that mysteriously got cancelled for one reason or the other.  Overall, I'd say your training blew limp dicks.

"Do you feel like you were supported by your leadership team?"
Wow.  This might be my favorite.  Unfortunately it is yet again limited to the five point system.  I have had the esteemed (dis)pleasure of working at two different stores.  The first store was filled with a management team with delusions of infallibility.  The store's failures were not due to their piss poor managing skills.  Of course not.  It was due to the the line level employees and supervisors who worked their asses off every day to handle all problems on their own because you all were too busy locking yourselves in conference rooms or making sure YouTube was fully functional on all employee computers.  Kudos.

The second store was full of managers who came from other big box retailers that had failed.  Hm.  Why was this a good idea?  Clearly their managing skills were not that great if the entire company went under.  So I knew that if I had a concern or question about what I was supposed to do, I could absolutely, without a doubt count on my leadership team to NOT have the answers.  Hey, thanks for being worthless! (I do feel compelled to say that out of both teams, there were two managers who knew how to do their job and were absolutely not worthless.  Unfortunately, they were looked down upon by the rest of the management staff.  Fail.)

"Did you feel like you were supported by your General Manager?"
Ha.  These questions just keep getting better and better!  I must question why these are not positioned as verbatim questions.  Probably because you already know the answers will be negative....  But I digress.  I've had two GMs.  Both of whom absolutely did not have my back or any of their employee's backs.  Well, unless they were their old high school buddies.  Then, sure!

My first GM poured more bullshit down everyone's throat to try to get them motivated to do more work for less money and zero chance of promotion.  He also had a pretty big head when it came to boundaries of what he could tell me I was allowed to do.  Hey, jackass, I'll blog if I want to.  I'm sure he's a cool guy and all, truthfully, but as a GM, you blow.

My second GM was even worse.  He barely talked to anyone.  He was on his cell phone 99% of the time you saw him.  And he had the audacity to insinuate that it was MY fault that he employed a shitty 20 year old to manage a business that accounted for most of the store's revenue resulting in that departments utter failure.  It had nothing to do with this kids concern with being a gossipy teenager and turning everyone on each other rather than running a business.  Hey, it's not my responsibility to hold anyone's hand through their job and I'm certainly not going to provide anyone else with the answers so THEY get the glory.  GMs are worthless.

"Why did you leave *insert company name here*?"
Finally!  A question I can type exactly what I want to say!  First, take the answers to the above three questions.  After you have digested those reasons, allow me to add to it.  Not taking the time to develop people into roles they are more than capable of having is 100% YOUR fault.  If a hard working, intelligent, capable individual express the desire to do more for you, ACCEPT it!  Help them to help you.  Don't bring in your frat buddies who you like to reminisce about slamming back brewskies on game day.  This is no way to run a company!

Also, have you ever heard the phrase, "You get what you pay for"?  Allow me to explain this.  If you pay me $9/hr, you will get $9/hr worth of work.  This does NOT include doing your work for you.  I will do the minimum requirements to not get fired.  I'm not entirely sure why this comes as a shock for you.  In short, you fail to realize that the people you employee make or break you.  Try making them happy for a change.

"If there was one thing we could have changed to keep you, what would that have been?"
I think I've more than adequately listed numerous steps you could have taken to avoid my departure.  Allow me to leave you with this thought, "STOP SUCKING!!!!"

"Is there anything else you would like to tell us about working for *insert company name here*?
You successfully wasted six years of my life.  Thanks for nothing!  The only good thing I got out of you was the occasional free shit and a whole mess of friends who feel the same way I do about your shitty company.  They'll probably be filling this survey out in a similar manner soon.

"Would you like to discuss this with an HR manager?"
Why?  So that I can get a case number from some dude in India who has no real affiliation with your company?  The one time in six whole years I had a legitimate complaint that ate at me so deeply I felt compelled to file a complaint, that was my experience.  And because of the language barrier, he filed my complaint as "She does not get along with her GM."  Hey, thanks for making me look like a moron, fucktard.

So.....do you think I should send it?

Me, Caveman. You Helper.

The best thing (and possibly only good thing currently) about my job is talking to people.  If you've spent even a shred of time with me, you're aware that I'm a talker.  Once when I was 3, I made some dude I'd never met endure the ramblings of my three year old brain for an entire plane ride from Iowa to Florida. That poor bastard.  So imagine my heartbreak when I realize those I interact with daily apparently have lost all ability to effectively communicate.

I'm not sure why, but people seem to get lazier and lazier every day.  This has now protruded into the general population's basic communication skills.  On a regular basis I feel as though I am dealing with a population that has de-evolved to the point of Neanderthals.  

We no longer speak in complete sentences.  Instead, I receive, "(pointing) In stock?"  Um.  Before talking, think of this; if I were blind, would I have any idea what you were trying to convey?  Would it have altered your quality of life so much to add the "is" and the "this"?

As if that isn't enough, I am expected to sift through the mumblers.  Oh, the mumblers.  Firstly, you cannot expect the average person to be able to understand what it is you need when you are looking away from them while seemingly eating their tongues.

I haven't gotten to the worst part (for me).  As I said, I LOVE to talk.  I pride myself on my impeccable grammar skills and extensive vocabulary.  Sadly, this is no longer appreciated because people have become so stupid.  Instead of applauding my intelligence or engaging in meaningful dialogue, I get blank stares and find myself resorting to the most basic of communication skills.

I suppose it could be worse; at least the grunting hasn't started.  Yet.

On a Serious Note...

It is sad that in today's culture there is no protection for non-unionized workers against workplace bullying. I feel like I am a pretty strong natured person and I have a pretty thick hide.  It takes a LOT to really get to me.  I've complained about my job in the past but it was always trivial "boo hoo I didn't get promoted" or "this new policy sucks" stuff.  Not the case this time.  I've never really experienced panic attacks and stress induced nausea until recently.  My GM has literally made me terrified and uncomfortable to go to work.  And this is never okay.

Though my former GM and I had our moments where we did not see eye to eye, under no circumstances did he ever falsify my job performance, spread rumors about my alleged resignation or attempt to intimidate me into quitting.  My new GM has decided to act to the contrary.  All because he heard I applied for a job elsewhere.

Am I pissed I was passed up again for a promotion?  Of course.  However, I solved it by reflecting on what I wanted in life.  I decided my current job was never going to make me happy promoted or not.  I decided on a different profession entirely that would require a little more schooling.  Did I decide to apply to other companies? You betcha! But my job performance has not decreased one bit.  Every other manager in the store seems to admire my performance.

However, my GM apparently did not see it this way.  He decided to sit me down in our conference room to tell me that the department I work in is imploding and it is essentially my fault.  Interesting how a measly line level employee can be responsible for the follies of an ENTIRE department.  Why not go to the supervisor? Oh, because he left just in the nick of time.  Right before the department where he would actively try to pit one employee against the other imploded.  But, I'm seeking other employment so it must be my fault.

In addition, he attempted to rewrite history and tell me I was not a good employee.  Really?  Interesting considering I make all of my stupid little goals you have and do as I'm expected.  But, per his instruction, it isn't good enough to do your job.  I'm fairly certain that excelling in your current position and not trying to exceed expectations is not grounds for disciplinary action.

It's funny that a week ago I had been called the reason for the improvement in the department.

So, I contacted my HR department.  I'm not sure what I had hoped to accomplish by this, they rarely speak English and frequently ignore employee complaints.  As I suspected, I called and got someone who sounded as though he had recently learned the basics of English.  After I gave my statement, which I had carefully prepared immediately after the initial bullying incident, all he took from this was that I "did not like my GM."  Look, I don't like a lot of people, but why would I waste my time contacting HR for this?  If this guy understood English, maybe he would have grasped the key concept - that I feel I am being bullied into resigning.

So why be a Debbie Downer in my blog?  Well, sometimes when I'm stressed and feeling overwhelmed it helps to get it out - publicly.  Also, I want any leaders out there to really think about how their tendencies to gossip and their tactics to get someone to quit really impact the psyche of that employee.  Especially an employee who has given exemplarily service for 6 years.  And finally, if I have any legally minded friends who can help me understand my rights and options, that would be awesome.  I honestly don't think I can take another day.....

Deuce Dropping 101

All right, people.  I get it.  You decided to take that piece of chicken (except, it wasn't chicken) from the crazy street vendor and now you are gut wrenched and faced with a dilemma.  Where do you poop?  Your only option is the public restroom in that big box retailer across the street.  As an employee of that store, and on behalf of all public service workers, please abide these general shit-taking-in-public rules of etiquette:

1) Courtesy flush.  This should seem like a no brainer, but while you're dropping your stink bomb and you hear another person enter the restroom, give a good 'ole flush.  I don't want to gag the entire time I'm peeing.

2) Please do your best to refrain from moaning.  Look, it's awkward for me.  I don't know whether you're dropping the big one, giving birth or fucking a stranger.  I don't want to be present for any of the above, but especially the latter two.

3) If it's a messy one, don't load up all the t.p. and try to dispose on one flush.  Overflowing toilets are not fun for anyone.

4) We are not heathens; there should never, I repeat, NEVER be a situation where shit gets smeared ANYWHERE in that restroom. (Seriously, I've seen it. And this is the WOMEN'S bathroom. Chicks are fucking gross!)

5) Please for the love of everything holy, flush your mess!  There is nothing worse than having to pee and seeing that 2 out of the 3 stalls are filled with shit.  Shit that has been sitting there for god knows how long marinating in its shitty juices and causing the entire bathroom to stink.  I'm not sure where you were taught how to use the restroom, but even the most redneck of humans abide by the "If it's brown, flush it down" credo.

I thought these were basic concepts, but eight years in retail has shown me people are nasty.  Come on folks, think of others when you poop in public!

Cell Phones Are Evil.

Okay, believe me.  I am the first to admit I'd be lost without one.  But there really is a time and a place.  The time to put it away is when you're trying to talk to me.  I don't have time for that shit!

How can I be expected to give you my award winning spiel when you are only willing to give me a quarter of your attention?!  Sales associates by nature are attention whores. PAY ATTENTION TO ME!

Seriously though, this is how my typical sales interaction goes with you on your cell phone:

Customer: (holding phone slightly away from face) Hey, can you help me?
Me: Sure, what can I do for you today?
Customer: (talking into the phone) I know right! I can't believe she did that either. Oh wait, the sales lady's here. I'm trying to buy a TV.  (finally acknowledging me) Oh so what's the difference between these two TVs?
Me: (in my patient tone I start stating the differences and then am rudely cut short)
Customer: (laughing hysterically) Ooooh! That bitch is crazy! I can't believe you said that! Oh shit. Hold on I gotta listen to this lady talk about TVs.

Thank you very much for successfully wasting my time.  If you can't give me the common courtesy of staying off your phone, I shouldn't have to try and sell you shit.  I don't need to hear your soooo not appropriate for public phone conversations.  I don't care if your best friend is banging your dad.  It's not my business and frankly, it makes me want to vomit.

But what's worse than the occasional customer rudely making me fight for their attention is my BOSS barking orders at me that require an answer or explanation while he is on his phone.  Yes. This happens on a frequent basis.  I really need a new job....(but then how would I entertain you fine readers?)

What's In Your Bag?

I've officially seen it all.  Just when I think people could not get any crazier (I mean, don't you remember No More Drum Solos?!) someone walks into my wonderful place of employment and skews my entire crazy scale.

At *insert store name here* we dabble in small appliances.  I say dabble because I am not sure I work with a single person (myself included) that knows a shred of information on these.  Anyway, people rarely come in to shop the area anyway.  A co-worker of mine was lucky enough to be walking passed our vacuum displays and got reeled in by a crazy.

"Well, Stef.  How did you know she was crazy?" you may ask.  My first indication was her mismatched clothing, disheveled hair and general "crazy cat lady" presence she gave.  My second indication, and I did not know how accurate my first impression was until this very following moment, was when she pulled a giant bag of cat hair out of her purse.  What. The. Fuck?

As she began to sprinkle the cat hair on the ground, I saw the utter look of confused terror on my co-workers face.  I did what any good peer would do.  I walked the fuck away.  Sorry, dude.  My crazy quota is full!

Okay, I understand you need to know if a vacuum is going to pick up what you need picked up.  The great thing is, we offer 30 day satisfaction guarantees so feel free to take it HOME with your 5,000 cats and see if it picks up their hair.  So leave the crazy at home next time, lady.  We certainly don't get paid enough for that shit!

The Yellow Circle of Doom!

(Oh you KNOW I totally Googled "child faceplant" for this pic)

Whoever decided that my store would look better with a giant yellow circle painted in the tile was a freaking genius.  It has provided me many a good laugh and undoubted confirmation that I am, in fact, going to Hell if one should exist.

I am not sure of the rationale, but for some reason, small, hyper children seem to gravitate towards this yellow circle.  It's as if they are being compelled by some unnatural force.  And are being moved to...well...move.  This often comes in the senseless act of running around in said yellow circle until BAM!  They land face first on that dirty little floor.

Is it my fault that your small child face planting in public makes me erupt in a fit of inappropriate laughter? I certainly don't think so.  Unfortunately, the general population would disagree with me judging by the number of disapproving glares shot my way whenever this happens.   Hey, when other people get hurt, especially those who do not have yet developed full motor skills, it is funny.  To suggest otherwise is a blatant lie.

I only wish I had the foresight to capture these glorious moments on camera.  Don't worry, disapproving parentals, my company has since removed this yellow circle of doom from the majority of its stores taking away the one happy moment I could forward to each shift.  I suppose I'll just have to resort to tripping them myself now....

We're Closed.

Dumbass Customer 1:  “Hey man!  What time is it?”

Dumbass Customer 2:  “Oh it’s 8:55pm.”

Dumbass Customer 1:  “What time does ::insert store name here:: close?”

Dumbass Customer 2:  “9pm.”

Dumbass Customer 1:  “Okay! Let’s go! I need an excessive amount of technical knowledge and though I’m aware five minutes before closing is not nearly enough time, I don’t have enough respect for the workers as human beings to really care.”

I feel this is a nightly occurrence for all sales associates unfortunate enough to share the burden of closing down their store.  Having the (dis)pleasure of doing this for six years (and oddly enough, two going on three weeks straight most recently), I am more than qualified on the subject.

Before you get on your “well it’s your job, if you don’t like it quit” soap box, allow me to point out one very important fact.  Though it is “their job” you have to make appointments to see medical professionals because they have OFFICE HOURS.  How is this different than BUSINESS HOURS?  You cannot simply waltz into your doctor’s office 5 minutes before his or her office closes.  Well, you can, just don’t expect to receive any care.  In fact, more than likely, you will be asked to leave the premises. Just because they make $500/hr and we get our measly $8/hr (on average), why isn’t my time just as important?  

I’m less annoyed by the people who know exactly what they need and more or less exactly where it is.  Like a movie, for example.  These self serve customers are not the people I’m talking about.  I’m talking about customers like Dumbass #1.  Look, dude.  I have no patience for your kind.  I don’t give a shit that you feel the world revolves around you.  Would you like me to give you a run down of all the shit I have to get accomplished before I can go home?  The shit that you are preventing me from getting done in a timely manner.  You really think my idea of fun is stay 2, sometimes 3 hours passed my shift just because you felt the need to disregard our hours?  It’s not.  

Trust me, you will be receiving less than adequate service if you come into any store trying to get in depth assistance when they are about to close.  Let me draw another parallel.  You wouldn’t walk into a restaurant looking for service right before they closed, would you?  You certainly would not.  Because you know as well as I that if they even decided to seat you, your food would most likely be fucked with.  Well, we can’t fuck with your food, but we can fuck your world up just as easily!  

So please, don’t be a dick.  Check the store hours (which I may add are found in LARGE, BOLD print on every entrance at every store I have ever been) and plan your trip accordingly.  Not only will you be making the lives of sales associates everywhere easier, but you will be less likely to get shitty service.  

This has been an (un)paid service announcement by The Big Blue Bitch.

The Games We Like to Play

Do you ever wonder how the minimum wage slaves at your favorite big box retailer remain so peppy despite the less than desirable working conditions they face?  Let me let you in on a little secret.  They’re playing games at your expense.  It’s true!  Allow me to illustrate. 

One of my personal favorites is the Hitler Point.  Picture an unsuspecting customer walking up to a bored sales associate and asking where something is located.  Instead of pointing like a normal human being, I like to give a point that resembles the “Hail Hitler” salute.  You know, all four phalanges close together, arm extended high into the air.  One of those.  I get the strangest looks, but no one ever asks me if I’m a Nazi.

An old co-worker of mine decided to emulate a character from the cult classic, Super Troopers.  His job is to greet customers when they enter and exit the store.  As I’m sure you can imagine, this is one of the most boring jobs anyone could have.  When customers exit, he makes it a point to say, “Thanks meow!” causing the customer to do a double take.  Sometimes he would say, “Hi folks!” but used such an odd accent it sounded a lot like, “Hi fucks!” You can almost hear them thinking, “Did that really just happen?” Yes.  Yes it did.

Another age old favorite takes a truly talented individual.  If executed improperly, this WILL backfire and your fun filled work day will end in an uncomfortable conversation with that one manager who no doubt has no sense of humor.  Try answering all of their questions with a question.  This has brought great amusement to me throughout the years.  Luckily, people look at me and think I’m a nice person so they don’t complain.  WRONG.  

Customer: “So what’s the best TV?”  

Me: “Hm. That’s a good question. Which one do you think?”

Customer: “Well I’ve heard the Samsung.  Should I be thinking about adding additional speakers?”

Me: “Do you think you need speakers?”

Customer: “Yes. Let’s go ahead and add speakers. You’re great!”

It’s very difficult to accomplish without cracking a few smiles.  If you approach it correctly, the customer will be none the wiser that you’re using them for your own amusement.  In most cases, after the interaction they actually ask to speak to a manager to tell them how amazing I was.  I wish I was making this up.

Have you ever had an associate help you find a product and you get an unsolicited grand tour of the store because that moron had no idea where the product was in the first place?  Yeah, that was intentional.  I frequently see how long it takes a customer to get annoyed with me while showing them a product.  It makes the days go by quicker.  

Lastly, beware when you hear those seemingly nice associates page odd things over their radios.  Like, “Code Pineapple” or “Code Orange.”  These are not terrorist threat levels or anything serious.  These are either stalking out hot customers or, more likely, stalking out some customer that needs to be made fun of immediately.  Mullets, front butts, trashy folks, you name it.  We are judgemental little bastards.  But hey, you asshole customers and (some - not all) shitty bosses made us this way! 

FREE with purchase

Yes, bitches, I am back!  Sorry for the extended hiatus.  Life is hectic when you move nearly 1,000 miles away!

If you don't know, I've moved from Davenport, Iowa to Cedar Hill, Texas.  Crazy, eh?  But have no fear, gentle readers, I stayed with my company who has provided me with such comical content up until this point. Also, the people in Texas have not disappointed me with their antics which will result in many humorous blogs to come. :)

The recent trend I'm noticing is how we are offering free things with purchases.  Example: "Buy this TV and get this free blu ray player!"  I never thought I would have to work so hard to give something away.

Now, I completely understand that often times the gift product is utterly useless.  Currently, our free blu ray player is paired with a 3D enabled TV but the player is not capable of 3D.  Silly, I know.  But it is a FREE BLU RAY.  Put it in your bedroom, tea room, what the fuck ever.  It is FREE! Stop bitching.

One such customer attempted to tell me how he was going to cheat the system. *eye roll paired with audible sigh*  Here we go.

    Customer : "Well, if you won't just credit me the $299 the blu ray is worth, then I'll return it!"
               Me: "Sir, that is completely fine if you do not wish to use the included blu ray player.
                        Unfortunately you will receive no refund as the player was free with purchase."
     Customer: "No. On my receipt, it shows I paid for it! Ha! Your system will not know."
               Me: "Actually, sir, as you can see the price of the television was discounted to reflect addition
                        of the free item.  If said item is returned, the system will automatically return the television
                        to its original price which will not affect the price you paid.  In other words, you will
                        receive no refund. Would you like to keep this player?"
     Customer: "I guess, since it's free.  Look for it on eBay!"

Really, dude?  Do you think you are hurting me with your ability to post a player on eBay?  I don't give a shit.  It isn't costing me anything.  Sell it if you don't want it!  Use your free item however you choose. You aren't finally outsmarting me.  You just made yourself look like a moron for arguing about my company's desire to give you something for free.

Have a great day, dipshit.

Don't You Forget About Me

Hey there avid readers!  I'm not ignoring you, I swear!

I did not, in fact, pursue my threat of leaving *insert company name here.*  I instead took a position with them outside of my cancerous store.  I'm moving to Texas!

That being said, it will be a few days before I have the time to sit down and publish something of worth.  But do not fret, gentle readers, retail hijinx will resume, and if it is true that everything is bigger in Texas, it will be worth the wait.

Premature Swipe-ulation

You just got caught up in the overwhelming excitement of purchasing your brand new TV, or iPod, and before you know it, you're swiping before the cash register is ready for you.  Oops.

It's called premature swipe-ulation (actually, I just made that up) and it is the bane of many a cashier's existence.  With recent technological advances of the ever popular signature pad and its corresponding POS software, the consumer (if he or she can read) knows exactly when to time their swipe for the maximum enjoyment of both parties.  However, there will always be that person who is unwilling to take the 2 seconds to read directions which leads to a very disappointed cashier.

At my place of employment, our signature pad does double duty (hehe, I just said "duty"): it serves not only as a card swiper, but as a medium to verify personal information during a transaction.  I cannot grasp the stupidity involved when creating a panoply of questions we force our customers to go through, but it makes my job that much harder due to the increasing stupidity of our customers.

I sell TVs.  When you buy a TV from *insert store name here*, you get to answer nearly all of these questions.

"Could you verify your information?"  No, you cannot swipe now.

"And one more time."  I'm sorry, you still cannot swipe.

"Oh, you want the protection plan? Verify that information please." If you would kindly pay attention to the screen, it has not yet asked for your card, so please do not swipe.

"Also, could you select 'yes' that I have provided you with the necessary terms and conditions for this, this and this that you have purchase?"  You are still swiping in vain.

During every sale, it seems I am reminding the customer two or three times to not swipe yet.  It also never fails that by the time it is actually time to swipe, the customer has assumed that one of the many times they've swiped has satisfied the signature pad's needs and the card is buried away in their wallet.  If I have to listen to one more audible sigh directed towards me for your inability to read simple directions, I may just murder you with said credit card.

So, fine retail shoppers, read the directions, keep that card firmly in your hand until you get the go ahead to swipe, and take a deep breath.  With these simple steps we can all avoid the pain and embarrassment of premature swipe-ulation.  I hear thinking about baseball helps....

Betcha Didn't Know I Could Bitch Too!

I'm not sure why I continue to put myself through the ringer for a job I am clearly above.  I certainly didn't spend nearly four years of my life in a competitive college program to wither away in a retail environment. And yet....

I am not the type who is content to just be an employee.  Present job excluded, I have always been immediately recognized as a leader and put in such positions as a result.  Yes, the monetary increase is always good, but I actually enjoy being in charge and developing my team.  This is the only job I've held where I have yet to be promoted and it is the job I have poured the most effort into with zero pay off.

Recently a new position opened up that I was made for.  I had to do very little research because it is an area of expertise for me.  Despite being fucked over numerous times in the past by this company, I decided I would give this one more whirl.  Clearly, I did not receive the promotion.

It is not about the other person or even that I didn't get the job.  It is the way these "leaders" constantly give the same, very unhelpful reasons on why I didn't get the job.

"I don't really have feedback to give.  It was a great interview.  We just chose someone else."   Oh. So what you're telling me is the interview process is a waste for anyone who isn't the person you first had in mind.  You should probably do the efficient thing and just offer that person the position instead. Idiot.

"You don't work in that department and the other person did."  Okay, so why not make that a requirement for applying for that position?  You continually waste people's time!

 Or, my personal favorite, "I just don't think you were passionate enough about *insert job description here.*"  I am so glad that people who have barely taken the time or effort to get to know anything about me can be the judge of what is or is not a passion of mine.  Since you clearly must be psychic, can you get me next week's Powerball numbers? Thanks.

Be an asshole.  Tell me the real reasons I don't get positions.  Honestly, I can tell you it has nothing to do with my qualifications and everything to do with the fact that I have made myself a person to be walked all over.  Which is odd considering I'm kind of a bitch in every other aspect of life.

Clearly, my logic has no place in the world of retail.  I forget that having passions that don't pertain to this company or do not interest the people in charge are not valid passions for one to have.  If one doesn't understand the necessity for balance between work and play in their life, then they are a perfect candidate.   Anyone who doesn't wake up every day LIVING for the company is clearly a waste of time no matter how intelligent, qualified or talented they might be.

That's cool, *insert company name here,* I won't waste anymore of your time, and you certainly won't get anymore of mine!

By the way...anyone need a writer?

Yes. I have tattoos.

A good friend of mine recently told me of a story where she was somewhere shopping or eating and had an older couple just gawk at her for a good ten minutes.  She has a blue mohawk.  They didn't say anything to her or to themselves.  Her solution?  Walk up to them, stand as close as possible, and say "HI!" very loudly devoid of any emotion.  It made them feel awkward as hell.  They left her alone.

Gawking is the quickest way to make shit awkward.  Want to make things even worse?  Go up to said gawkee, grab their arm and proceed to inspect their tattoos.  If that isn't enough, you can always start removing articles of clothing to show of your tattoos.  These incidents happen to me frequently.  But never in the same day.  Until today.

The first culprit; a short, middle aged man.  He stood staring at my collection of tattoos as if I were a museum display.  I walked up to him and asked if he needed some assistance because he was looking at me as if I could help him.  He the proceeded to silently grab my left arm by the wrist and start rotating it to see all of my work.  Not okay.  My right fist clenched and prepared to strike.  He let go just as I was about to release.  Lucky him.  When he finally spoke, he caressed my arm (ew) and told me my color was beautiful.  Um...I know.  Your compliment in no way makes up for you touching me!

I do not like be touched by strangers.  If you wanted to look at my work, cool.  Just ask.  Museums have a strict "do not touch the exhibits" policy.  If you choose to treat me like a display, at least be consistent.

After I calmed down, I had another customer interested in my work.  She at least understood the physical boundaries and asked to take a look instead of touching me.  This I appreciated.  Unfortunately, she did not understand that taking off articles of clothing in public to show me her shiiiiiiiitty prison style tattoos was also a boundary which should never be crossed.

This woman epitomized white trash.  I stood wide eyed and terrified as she started removing clothing.  She had roughly seven tattoos which she claimed were lions.  The combination of her leathery, over tanned, old skin with generally piss poor tattoos rendered them little more than blobs.

She eagerly awaited my approval to her blobs.  What do you say to that?  I realize I am supposed to be nice, but lady, you just got nearly butt ass naked in the middle of a big box retailer at peek hours.  And your tattoos weren't even well done!  All I could muster was a, "Neat."

I am not sure where people got the impression that touching me, or visually assaulting me with your horrible tattoos was proper social etiquette.  Please take this as your formal warning!

Smelliness to Proximity (ft.)

Have you ever noticed the correlation between how horrible a person smells and how close they feel is appropriate to stand next to another human being?  Having the (dis)pleasure of working with the general public has made me uniquely qualified to report on this subject.

I have provided a graph outlining my findings.

As you can see, the more offensive the odor, the closer the customer stands.  This finding is not prejudice to just those with body odor.  Oh, no.  Those suffering from massive halitosis are common offenders also.

These offenders do not respond to your feeble attempts at creating a comfortable distance between you.  They will in fact make every effort to close any distance you have managed to create.  These smelly folk like to spread their funk to as many people as possible.  I have found for each foot of space you put between you and this smelly offender, said offender closes the gap by a foot and a half.

Please, I encourage you, and those you know, to abide the social standard of personal hygiene.  This epidemic is affecting big box retail employees world wide.  Help end this alarming trend!

The cause of this phenomenon is still under investigation.  I will provide a follow up report if this finding is ever revealed.

Snap, Whistle, Clap.

Snaps, whistles and claps are appropriate and accepted means to get your loyal dog to return to you after a game of fetch.  Snaps, whistles and claps are never, have never and (hopefully) will NEVER be an accepted means to get the attention of a customer service worker.

I'm not sure what kind of brain abnormality (other than general trashiness) one has to possess to think this is acceptable social behavior.  Where did you learn to socialize?  The zoo?  Perhaps that explains not only your lack of social skills, but your smell as well.

Though this happens on a fairly regular basis where I work, today's occurrence takes the cake.

I had the pleasure of helping a genuinely nice older couple who unfortunately didn't know shit about televisions.  When you get this type of customer, you spend an obscene amount of time dumbing down all the technical terms so they can sort of grasp all of the technical specifications surrounding electronics today.  

These people were not standing far away from me at all.  They were not silently debating their many TV options.  We were actively conversing.

Enter: quintessential rude, over privileged, trust fund toting, 20 something male.  Look, kid.  I am not commissioned.  Realistically I could give a shit less how much money you spend at this store.  You will shut the fuck up and wait your turn.

While my poor, techno-illiterate old couple was trying to absorb the knowledge I was dispersing, this piece of shit in a suit cleared his throat, made eye contact with me and proceeded to snap at me.  Not snapping to the beat of the wonderful musical stylings of The Bouncing Souls.  Oh no.  Snapping at me with a look that conveyed, "Bitch, come."

If you've met me, you are probably aware of my temper.  This temper just keeps getting shorter and shorter the more disgruntled I become.  An immediate way to make my restraint on said temper completely nonexistent is to treat me like I am stupid or beneath you.  This man, nay, boy, did both with only a look and a snap.

I smiled my, "you are just about to get your world fucked up" smile, cleared my throat, chuckled and responded with a raised index finger.  The raised index finger is the customer service worker's equivalent to a snap.  It is perhaps one of the rudest gestures someone can make to tell a person, "I'll be right with you."  It was one finger off from what he deserved.

I took my sweet ass time with my nice elderly couple, taking extra care to explain each individual specification in the easiest way possible.  I was executing my job to a "T" while doucher over there stood staring and audibly sighed every few seconds.

I eventually got to him and basically talked down to him the entire time.  He was not enjoying the fact that my intellect far surpassed his own (which, I might add, was less than impressive). Yes, I know more than you.  Yes, I am more articulate than you (this moron didn't understand the word "aesthetics." Fail.).  Yes, you improperly assumed I am uneducated because I work a blue collar job.  You lose on all accounts.

My hope is that one day I will be encouraged to respond to these customers in the only way that would generally make an impact; a good 'ole fashioned throat punch.

Me No English So Good.

Anyone who has interacted with me for more than five minutes can attest to the fact that I am offended by one thing and one thing alone.  That one thing is blatant disregard for the English language.  If you live in America, like it or not, it is the dominate language so learn to speak it properly or shut the fuck up.

It is bad enough I have to listen to the moronic customer base, but then I have to attempt to pick out the meaning behind my valuable training materials, provided by my multi-BILLION dollar company, amidst all the spelling and grammatical errors.

I suppose I should feel happy that my job is FINALLY allowing us time to learn things.  I guess they finally got sick of having employees who know less than the customers.

Today was a day I was allotted an hour to do some online training on whatever I wanted.  Instead of absorbing knowledge to be a better sales associate (hahahahahahaha), I ended up taking photos for what I knew to be my next blog content.

Let's play "What's wrong with this picture?" (Sorry about the flash dot. I was trying to be stealthy as we now have a "strict" no cell phone policy and didn't have time to turn the flash off.)

Holy shit.  Where can I find a 406 foot VGA cable?  More importantly, am I to believe there is something longer?! Is that a dot com only product?  Oh.  You meant 4 - 6.  Fail.

I think I'm doing something wrong.  I'm not entirely sure how to lat down.  Is that what all the cool kids are doing these days?  

Firstly, I (poorly) blurred out the brand name to avoid any bitching on their or my employer's behalf.  But I ask you, is it that difficult to use a backspace?  Clearly that ? doesn't belong in the middle of the word.  Unless....is it like a glottal stop? Should I be alarmed?  Is this the USB that will end the world? Hmmm.

Now before you say these are small, insignificant typos that any moron could decipher, I will say the significance of the problem is not the issue.  The issue is this company's lack of desire to invest the time to proofread before something is published this as a legitimate resource.  If you cannot avoid basic typos, why should I trust the validity of your information?  

One would think a company as the one in question could afford an editor.  Job opportunity for Stef, perhaps? 

Front Butt.

Front Butt: (adj) The bulbous protrusion emanating from below the waist. The profile of the bearer of a front butt closely resembles the uppercase letter “B”. The most common wielders of a front butt are middle-aged males with a penchant for ill-cut high-rising trousers, which they fasten well above the navel. Commonly, those with front butts are also equipped with “man titties”.


Thank you, Urban Dictionary. 


In my experience, sufferers of the Front Butt often have the inability to realize their condition and refuse to dress accordingly.  Your shirt should always meet your pants.  Bare midriffs are so 1997.  And lest we forget, that was only in style for skinny folk.


Additionally, front butt offenders seem to be part of the rudest group of customers I have ever encountered.  There must be some sort of reservior of bad attitude hiding out in that large bulbous protrusion! 


Working in the fine, upscale retail environment I do, I have the displeasure of encountering these wonderful people.  The most recent of which was a couple and their child.  Yes.  A family of front butts. ::shudders::


Allow me to list the many things wrong with this family.


1) Though we work in the customer service industry, we are also human beings who have lives outside of their job.  We close at nine, dipshit.  So don't come in needing excessive technological education at 8:55.  That is not okay.


2) If you have a question for me you must first end your conversation on your cell phone.  I am not one of those people who is angry at the fact that you are talking loudly on your cell phone airing your dirty laundry.  I actually find it quite humorous.  No.  I am angry that you attempt to hold two conversations at once and fail.  


3) If you are having a marital dispute, I implore you, please do it in private.  It is bad enough that I have to suffer through the visual assault by your front butts, inability to express yourself verbally, and blatant inconsideration of those around you.  Please do not force me to have a detailed picture of what your life is like.  That is a place no one should venture.


4) I am not, I repeat, NOT a babysitter.  No, I will not watch your child while you shop around my store AFTER WE'VE CLOSED!  Well, I wouldn't do it if we were still open, but still.  You chose to spawn so it is your job and your job alone to take care of it.  Do we need to have the "I hate children conversation"?


I'm sure I could go on and on, but it would take away from the key point.  If you are fat, dress accordingly, please.  I do not want to see you belly that looks like a butt.  And for God's sake, please stop rubbing your belly! You are not a genie!

Bucket List.

Most people construct a bucket list of important things they want to accomplish before dying; travel the world, bungee jump, or climb Everest.  Sometimes they're even quite noble; help the starving Ethiopians, find a cure for cancer, or even make amends with those you've wronged.  If you know me, you know I haven't the ability to construct a list so consequential or noble.  I have instead constructed my list of shit to do before I quit my job.


I have absolutely no intention of staying in the retail biz.  I am much happier and much more talented as a writer to waste my life away serving others. Also, as it turns out, I'm not really a fan of the general public.


But I digress....


This is how I intend to spend my last week in retail when I finally get out.


1)  Be as blatantly sarcastic as possible.
                Customer:  "Do you work here?"
                          Me:  "Funny you should ask.  I actually beat the shit out 
                                    of this girl in the bathroom a minute ago to steal her 
                                    uniform.  It's so pretty. Someone should really go 
                                    check on her...."


2)  Instate the "fresh air break."
                Look. If smokers get to go outside every hour for 10 to 15 
                minutes to get their nicotine fix, I can go outside and play in the 
                fresh air for 10-15 minutes. (For this fantasy, I quit when it's nice 
                outside. It makes sense in my head....)


3)  Remove the "with a smile" from the "condescending with a smile" sales 
     strategy.
                  Customer:  "I want that TV with 1020 pixels."
                            Me:  "Hm. I'm not familiar with a TV that only has 1020 
                                      pixels."
                  Customer:  "Obviously you don't know anything because it says 
                                      720p or 1020p on those tags! P is for pixels!"
                            Me:  "Oh.  I think you mean 720 vs. 1080 as there is no such 
                                      thing as 1020.  Furthermore, if your TV only had 1080 
                                      pixels it would look like shit.  The "p" stands for 
                                      progressive not pixels.  Moron."
                  *Don't come in and try to school me when you don't know your head 
                    from your ass.  Though I don't claim to know it all, do your research 
                    before attempting to showcase you know more than the good ole
                   (name of the company I work for here) employees.*


4)  I am going to attempt to incite a conversation like the one in the video 
     below with my management staff.  They talk about financing so much
     it shouldn't be that difficult. 
                   It is important to note that I did not make this.  If you read my blog 
                   regularly, you may remember this gem.
                      http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2o-IQCM88s4&feature=feedf


5)  Agree with all the utterly moronic things people come in and say.
                  Customer:  "This dude that my cousin's friend's girlfriend's 
                                      dad knows told me he read on the internet that
                                      I could install this wall mount on some plywood
                                      and hang my 65" Plasma that weighs about 130lbs
                                      on it."
                           Me:   "Yep.  That shouldn't be a problem."


This is by no means a complete list, but these are the ones I find myself wanting to do more and more everyday.  I certainly hope this last week ever is approaching soon...


                      *Disclaimer: I am merely having fun using my life
                                           for ridiculous satire.  If you are incapable 
                                          of taking my commentary at face value and 
                                         having fun with it, go fuck yourself. Kthanxbye. 

Employees Must Wash Hands Before Returning To Work.

It wasn't until I started to work retail did I truly grasp how disgusting the general public is.  I wasn't aware that we had to post signs telling employees to wash their hands.  I think what we failed to anticipate is how many customers fail to engage in this act of basic personal hygiene. 


I really thought that washing your hands after using the restroom was habit for people.  Clearly I was wrong.  I would say something cliche like, "I don't mean to be judgmental," but we all know there are few things in this world I love more than being judgey. 


It always seems to be the people that look like dirty fuckers that actually ARE dirty fuckers.  Today I visited our public restroom to wash my hands before lunch.  A women emerged from the bathroom stall and I knew almost immediately that if anyone wasn't going to wash their hands after going to the bathroom, it was this woman.


Let's start from the top.  Her hair hasn't seen a stylist or hairbrush in a few decades.  It was a multitude of different browns and blondes with a few red streaks that appeared to be Kool-aid.  Also, she had meth teeth.  Her clothes were about two sizes too small and twenty generations too young.


She appeared to consider washing her hands.  She looked at me, then the faucet followed by the soap as if she had to weigh the pros and cons of washing her hands.  The only time, and I do mean ONLY time, this is acceptable is if you're being chased by some sort of law official or hitman.  She was not.


Look.  I should not have to touch your vag germs by touching a doorknob or piece of product, or worse yet, shaking your hand as is common practice at my job, just because you are too lazy to take the 30 seconds to clean yourself.  Stop spreading your skeeze! 


Did I mention she forgot to flush?

(Not) Above The Law.

About five years ago when Myspace was still slightly relevant, I attempted to keep a blog there.  True to my form, I used it as my own personal soap box to vent about injustice and unrest in the corporate world.  Five years ago, this lead my crack team of managers to have a talk with me about the content of my blog.

In case you are unaware, there is this nifty little document called, "The U.S. Constitution."  Within this official document there lies a set of amendments which grant further rights that were later deemed pertinent.   This is called, "The Bill of Rights."  The First Amendment protects us against any consequences for having an opinion and sharing said opinion with whomever will listen.  Allow me to type this verbatim for you fine folks at home.

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

Now there are the obvious exclusions to the First Amendment.  Libel, slander, defamation, etc.  Basically, if my freedom of speech directly affects any of your basic rights then I am no longer protected.  That being said, it is extremely difficult to prove that mere words greatly impact any of your rights.

Okay, now that the history lesson is over.....

It's become a common practice for employers to look over your social networking sites to determine if you are a candidate worthy of working for them.  To an extent, I can see why this would be beneficial.  If you have an applicant selling stolen shit on Ebay from their previous employer, probably not someone you want working for you.  But, for the most part, what people say on those sites is unimportant and not an accurate or complete depiction of their character.

That being said, my job has once again felt entitled to tell employees that their social networking sites are being watched and content they deem inappropriate will be dealt with accordingly.

A few entries ago I mentioned how the company I work for thinks their law lives outside the normal every day laws we all must abide.  At that time, my store wasn't really the culprit.  This time they are attempting to cross a line by which I don't think they fully understand the potential repercussions they face.  If you think you have financial problems now, imagine how much your company will take a hit when they not only have to pay employees unemployment but also settlements from civil rights suits.

To my management staff: I will not be censored! Firstly, in no way have I directly mentioned the name of the company I work for.  I cannot be held responsible for the impeccable deductive skills of my readers!  You guys really are very smart.  :)

Secondly, it's a fucking blog.  Realistically how much damage can I do? The majority of my stories center around funny anecdotal tales of our customers.  Anyone who does a general Google Blog search with the company name can find a plethora of customer horror stories in dealing with the store which is far more detrimental to the business than some employee pointing out managerial flaws.

My blog is funny and until people stop reading, I will not stop posting. With that, I leave you with a, "Booyah!"

What's that brace for?

The obvious thing to do when you see someone wearing a knee brace is to ask, "Did you hurt yourself?"  No, actually I just want to start a new fashion trend.  Fucking morons.

The next obvious thing is to make me carry your shit across the fucking store.  We have already established that I have an injury that impedes my ability to walk comfortably.  What in your tiny narcissistic brain leads you to believe that I am here to be your personal mule?  Fuck you.  I'm hurt.  On a normal day (or a  heavily medicated one) I will walk it up for your inept ass even though I'm pretty sure you can handle that 5 pound, 19 inch LED all by yourself.

Which brings me to my next question; why would you come to purchase a television and walk right by the series of carts you pass to get there?  Do you think the mythical TV fairies teleport that shit into your car?  No.  It has to get there somehow.  So don't give me the stink eye when I say, "Okay, let me run up and grab you a cart."  Do you think my 5'2 self has the arm span capable to carry a 37" box?  The box is bigger than I am. What the fuck do you think?

I cannot wait until the day I eventually leave this place and get the pleasure of saying all of this verbatim to some unsuspecting brainless shopper.  Trust me when I say, that day will go down in infamy.....

No More Drum Solos!

There are some situations even the most creative of mind could not fabricate.  This is one such occurrence.

At my job, it is customary to take over for an employee who is helping out in your department once you are free.  I'm usually very observant when it comes to noticing a fellow employee in need of assistance.  I ran into what I thought was a co-worker in dire need of someone knowledgeable in speakers today.  Little did I know I mistook his look of fright for confusion..

The first indication this man was borderline insane should have been the fact that he brought in a stack of CDs to listen to in our system.  As I approached my co-worker, the customer began swaying back and forth and air drumming. When I asked if he had some questions about our speakers, his reply was something along the lines of, "You would never have guessed this was off vinyl, would you?  WOULD YOU?"  Me: "Uh...no?" Thus began the longest hour of my life. Yes. Hour. HOUR.

As if it wasn't bad enough that I had to listen to bootleg live Deep Purple, this man also had a horrible concept of personal space etiquette.  Look, dude, if I don't know you, the appropriate length to stand away from me is at LEAST 5 feet.  Unless you're hot.  He was not.

Oh. Did you catch the "bootleg live Deep Purple" part?  If not, let me reiterate. Live. Deep. Purple.  Have you heard a live album by any classic rock band?!  Every song is around 15 minutes with 10 minutes of drum solo.  I'm not sure how many drum solos you have heard, but NONE of them, and I do mean NONE are impressive if they last longer than a minute.  Drummers are hot and all, but you're not soloists.  Unless you're Travis Barker.  Again, he was not.

The music, the personal space issues, and lest we forget the commentary.  About every 10 seconds he would spout gems like, "Oh. Listen. Listen to this. Isn't that great? You would never hear anything like this on a new cd. Would you? WOULD YOU? No. You wouldn't. This guy. This guy that made this for me. It's an original vinyl.  You wouldn't ever guess it's vinyl. Let me tell you how he did it." Dude, I don't fucking care.  You are creepy.  Unfortunately, when I don that blue shirt, I feel obligated to fain interest.  Probably the worst decision I've made in awhile. 

This went on, like I said, for an HOUR.  An hour of my life I will never get back.  An hour of drum solos.  Classic rock drum solos.  And air drumming.  And commentary.  When I was seriously contemplating slitting my wrists with the dull box cutter in my back pocket, a poor innocent bystander was roped into his craziness.  I walked away.  Yep.  Just walked away.  What else could I do?  Next time I see a 50 something holding burned CDs hanging out in my department, I am running the other way. 

Would You Like A Credit Card?

I wish I could take credit for this amazing cinematic masterpiece.  That fact does not take away from its message.  Working retail, I have had the opportunity to work with some real douchebags.  I'm not sure what it is that makes a person throw all logic out the window upon achieving slight corporate success, but the mere fact this video was made by another affiliate of the company I work for, not the STORE I work in, is proof that once you are "leadership," you become a pod person.

Now, I can't be too upset. Working for this company has provided me with enough literary commentary to last my entire career (can it be considered a career if I make no money? Hmm...).  But one has to ask, when is the line drawn between setting realistic expectations for employees and tyranny?

A colleague of mine who works in a different state received an email from a district manager promising terminations for those employees who do not sign up at least one person a day for a new credit card. Hm.  How is one to FORCE a credit card upon a reasonable minded American who understands the way to crawl out of this recession is NOT to dig yourself deeper into debt?  It's pretty difficult to argue with logic.  Oh.....wait......

His rationale? Well you can't work at McDonald's if you can't attach french fries to every order!  I don't know about you, but when I head to the local McDee's for a shake, I don't care how nice the dude at the window is; I don't want fries.  Telling me how adding fries to my order will improve my quality of life is not going to make me anymore inclined to purchase them. If I wanted fries, I would have fucking ordered fries.  Thank you, drive around.

I am, however, extremely interested to see how this plays out.  I know my company employs a significant amount of morons, but I have to believe that there are at least a few educated people scattered throughout this company who will grasp the illegality of this move.  Wouldn't it be hilarious to see a company go under as a result of owing too many unemployment benefits for unrightfully terminating employees?  So your credit card scheme actually HURT your business? Huh. Who would have thunk?