Oh. Hey. Nice...pics.

Oh, hey there!  It's been awhile, but have I got a doosey for you!

Because it's been so long, I should tell you I've moved into a new role at my current company.  I basically teach all you dumbasses how to use your really expensive technology, and fix it when you break it.  :) I'm hoping this leads to much funnier blog content.  Which if this first month is any indication, it should.

Now, on to the aforementioned doosey.

I hate to sound judgmental (ha! This is funny if you know me. I fucking love to judge.) but you can usually tell how an interaction is going to go by looking at the customer.  Old people are dumb, teenage girls are even dumber, and trashy people are...trashy.

Half of my day is helping people learn how to use their newly purchased electronics.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoy it but every so often I just get people who make me audibly sigh and shake my head in disapproval.  This day was one of those days.

A woman, of the "trashy" variety hauls in her laptop and plops it on the table next to me.  She proceeds to explain how she is in the process of divorcing her husband and she has taken photos of damage he has done to her property and receipts that prove his infidelity and god knows what else.  At this point, I am in shock that within 30 seconds of meeting me she has divulged all kinds of personal information I did not need to know.

Ten minutes and one very awkward stare on my part later, we got to the part where I actually start to show her how to import her photos to her computer.  I don't know about you, but if I am going into a public place to work with a stranger on moving my personal data from one electronic to the next, I am going to remove all questionable material.  I mean, if we have to move this questionable material to save for a later date, at the very least, I will warn the person helping me or tell them to let ME do it to avoid all embarrassment.

This lady did not.  Clearly I forgot trashy folk do not have shame.

As I obliviously started the import, the very first photo that pops up is a naked dude, his boner in the forefront.  Lady, you are in a family store.  What the FUCK where you thinking?  To her, the appropriate response was not to dim the screen or close the laptop or give a mortified reaction.  No normal reaction for this lady.  Instead, she giggled and proceeded to tell me how she fucked this dude who was her husband's best man at their wedding.

This is not appropriate conversation for a stranger! The mere thought of her naked with this horribly hairy, fat, unattractive naked man was enough to make me vomit right there. Some how I held composure and suggested we dimmed the screen lest the gaggle of children behind her see her collection. I didn't mention the real reason which was that I did not feel like being visually raped twice in one day.

When things like this happen, I can't help but wonder, "Why me?!"

I Thought This Was America.

Okay, I'm not this crazy, but I couldn't title my blog what I did and fail to post a reference to this South Park gem.  Now on to the true rant.

Anyone who has met me knows I am not patriotic.  Usually I could give two fucks about anything relating to politics, laws, injustices, etc.  That being said, there is one thing that bugs me beyond words; people working, living, and shopping in America who are unable to speak English (haha, see what I did there?)!

No, this is not me being a grammar Nazi and pointing out the general populous' inability to differentiate between you're and your or there, their, and they're (although, this is another valid concern).  This is in reference to all of the people who move to America and refuse to learn the main language.  In case you haven't noticed, that main language is English.  For all of you that say, "Oh, but by 2023 half of the population will be speaking Spanish."  I don't give a fuck.  Was the US Constitution written in Spanish? Didn't think so.

Don't get me wrong, I am a big fan of immigration.  Or perhaps more accurately, I don't care enough that you chose to come live here.  I love listening to some of your accents.  They sometimes make not so hot guys so much hotter (wait, that could actually be another bad thing). Do what you want, just learn god damn English.  It sucks when all I'm trying to do is stuff my fat American face with fast food only to learn that the person on the other end speaks broken English.  I shouldn't have to explain what I mean when I say, "chicken nuggets." 

I suppose being in the line of work I am in (if you haven't read any other blog post, I work retail.  My primary job is training people on how to use their recently purchased electronics) I get a little more upset when the people that come in for assistance cannot understand me.  

An excellent example is of the woman I was forced to work with for over an hour last week helping her figure out her recently purchased tablet.  When she initially set it up, she put it in Hebrew.  The first problem is that she wanted me to train her on an application I had never personally used and had no prior training for.  The second problem was that she only speaks Hebrew.  She spoke very little English so she could not understand me nor could I her.  She was unable to even translate what the screen said back into English so I could even attempt to train her.  

I was spending more time trying to communicate with her than any other of my colleagues would have, that much I guarantee.

After us going around and around trying to understand one another, she got pissed at me for not understanding Hebrew.  One phrase she did know, "Speak to manager now." Cool, lady.  So I am the asshole because you live in America and do not speak the language.  How exactly do you think you're going to convey your message of disappointment to my managers who also do not speak Hebrew?  Good luck with that.

Dammit.  I think the Texas is rubbing off on me.....

The Sweeper.

If you have never played competitive soccer, you may not be familiar with the term.  In soccer, your "sweeper" is your last line of defense before your goalkeeper.  The sweeper is a position you definitely appreciate having on your soccer team.  Not so much on your sales team.

Although my job is not commission based, I am hyper aware of my sales performance.  I am kind of an attention whore.  I like to be the one getting all the praise for my hard work; when I've earned it.  I cannot stand that proverbial creeper anyone in sales has encountered who lurks around listening in on everyone's sales just waiting for their moment to butt in and steal that sale.  Sweeper!

When I have spent a length time dumbing down all the technological jargon and endured the idiotic questions customers inevitably always ask, I should at the very least be rewarded by the increase on my sales performance grid.  Why should I do all the leg work just to have the sweeper show up right in the nick of time and tell that customer, "Oh hey, I see Stef's explained *insert product here* to you.  I bet she did an amazing job.  Well if you're ready, I can ring you up right here."

How do you come back from that.  I'm sure I cannot start an argument in front of the customer as if they were some knock off handbag at your local flea market.  That would not go over well.  What's a girl to do?  

Sweepers across the land, do your own work.  Find your own customers.  And most importantly, stay out of my sales, before I chuck all caution to the wind, refuse social norms and derby check your ass across the store.  Thank you and have a good day.

The Customer Is Usually Wrong.

I want to personally find and subsequently punch in the throat whoever coined the phrase, "The customer is always right." This phrase has turned consumers into whiney, ungrateful, scamming pieces of shit.  It has also made the retail employee's job that much harder.  It is bad enough we have to sift through the misinformation (see my previous post, The Internet Does Not Make You Smart), but add to that their very skewed perception of business ethics and we have a war just to avoid giving everything away for free every time someone launches a complaint.

A few weeks ago, an angry customer came in wanted a refund on a VERY old and abused product. Said customer argued with my co-worker for awhile about how we should refund this because it shouldn't have broken so quickly.  By him dropping it.  In water.  How dare an electronic device not work after treating it with such care and proper use?! After the "lowly sales associate" (his words, not mine) was unable to refund his money, he demanded to talk to a manager.  That's cool, dude.  They are going to tell you the same story....

After he whined about the product's "failure to perform," our manager decided not to refund the customer's money.  It was a ridiculous request so I'm not quite sure why he was surprised..  Well, this guy was PISSED.  We actually thought his spout of random profanities was the end of his tantrum.  We were incorrect.  Instead, this guy pulls out his phone and dials 911.  NINE ONE ONE.  What the fuck, dude?   What has to go wrong in your brain to make you think this is the best use of the number that exists for life or death emergencies?!  Furthermore, what the fuck do you think the police can do about it?  Save for egregious lack of ethics, law enforcement can't really do much.  Enforcing store policy that is available to every customer on their receipt (thus binding them contractually to these terms) is hardly grounds for their involvement.

When the 911 dispatcher picked up, he started screaming at the top of his lungs into the phone, "Yes. Hi.  I am at *insert store I work for here* and they are refusing to refund my money for their piece of shit, defective product.  I need an officer out here immediately.  This is fucking bullshit!  I want my fucking refund.  No.  You send someone out here right fucking now.  I am the customer!  I am always right!"  Clearly they were not on the same page.

Needless to say, 911 dispatch hung up on him.  Moron.

You Will Probably Be Offended.

So here's the thing; not everyone likes kids.  Sure, there is no disputing that some of them are adorable.  That can only be explained by some sort of biological adaptation we have so as to be more inclined to protect and not kill them.  Having an "awwww its so cute" moment in no way should take away from the fact that in general, I, again like many others, do not like kids.

With that in mind, I cannot help but be amazed at the utter stupidity of parents these days.  Because I work with the general public, I have to deal with these people daily.  I am saddened for the future of the human race if this is the level of reverse evolution we have achieved when one childless person such as myself knows more about child rearing than the average parent.

Here's a tip: If your child is in its "terrible twos," leave the fucker at home.  I should not be subjected to their endless need to be making noise.  I am not referring to talking.  Kids at that age should be trying to communicate as much as possible (and parents should be engaging rather than ignoring, but I digress...).  I am referring to the high pitched screams that seem to go on for hours.  What is even more mind boggling is that you think it is completely acceptable to force them to hang out in the mall when they clearly cannot handle it while you search for something you do not need.

Here's another tip: No one but you should have to keep tabs on your child.  I know picking up the latest video game is SUPER important and all, but maybe insuring your kid isn't getting abducted by the neighborhood perv should be a priority.  The last thing you should do is yell at us retail employees because we don't have the answer to the "Where did my kid go?" question.  I am not your personal babysitter.  Remember when I said I don't like children?  I ignore them.  It is YOUR job as their parent to pay attention to their whereabouts.

Oh, another tip, you say?  When your kid decides to destroy the accessory wall at my store, it is not cute.  People have to clean that up and while it may be keeping your kid occupied while you spend the months grocery money on shit you don't need, it is not fair to the minimum wage slave you just made stay an extra hour past their shift.  What would you do if your kid started throwing shit around at your house?

Allow me to leave you with this final thought: When innocent bystanders can smell your child's shitty diaper, it is time to go home.  That is gross.

Why So Serious?

You know the Twitter hash tag "first world problems?"  Kids whining that their high speed internet just isn't fast enough.  Or a recent fav, people bitching that they only got a car and not that iPhone they were hoping for on Christmas day (side note, check out this video).  Never, though, have I witnessed a more perfect display of someone legitimately distraught over one such problem as I did the other day.

My job consist of helping people with their technological illiteracy.  I'm generally a patient person because I understand that a lot of people did not grow up with computers and their ability to understand the way they work is beneath that of my own and my peers.  I don't consider myself condescending or judgmental (at least not to their faces).

A few days ago I was approached by a woman, I would put her at roughly 47, with some questions about adding email to her new smartphone.  She also wanted some assistance setting up an id to buy things from the phone's app store.  It was all set to be one of the easiest things I was going to do all day. In hindsight, I probably should not have even thought that thought.

We decided to start with the creation of a store id.  Since she would have to later verify that by email anyway, it was the most logical order.  During the creation process, the system alerted us that her ID had already been created.  Awesome!  That means this is going to be SUPER easy for me.  Why do I even get my hopes up?  She informs me that she has absolutely no guesses as to what that password could be.  Still not the end of the world.  We finish the password process and head over to set up the email as the new password has been sent to her inbox.

After entering her email address into the phone's mail client, she begins to just stare at the phone as if willing it to make the next move for her.  I desperately wanted to tell her that although the phone is "smart," is it not autonomous.  I resisted and asked her to please enter her email password.  She looked at me as though I had just murdered her kitten and said, "I thought we just went over that I didn't have that password."

Sigh.  "Ma'am, that is a different password all together that we reset.  We are now trying to enter whatever password you would use when you go to check your email on your home computer."

"I don't have a password for my email.  It just works."

Great.  She probably doesn't know THAT password either.  "Okay.  So that password is stored in your computer for your convenience.  However, there is still a password associated with that account.  Would you happen to have a guess as to what it is?  Or perhaps you wrote it down somewhere?"

Now, a rational human being would react by thinking to themselves, "Well, damn.  I should probably reset this password too and maybe keep them written down for safe keeping so this doesn't happen to me again."  This woman defied normality.

Her reaction was instead to drop to her knees, in the middle of a busy retail store mind you, and start openly sobbing.  If you know me even a little, you know that I am socially retarded.  My emotional defense mechanism is to run away when someone else is in pain because I literally do not know how to soothe them.

The end of this story is kind of anti-climactic.  I walked away and let her cry in peace.

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.