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.