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Working in Retail… Week 2
Another week has drifted past, and again I have been blessed at my place of work with a number of enlightenments about the world of the retail industry…
Wasps enjoy shopping pissing me off…
In one of the finest “what the fuck” moments of my life, I inexplicably encountered a wasp when rushing down the escalator whilst late on Wednesday. I felt a tickle from my shirt collar, I reached across with my left arm to fix this issue, and felt, as I brushed it away, the feel of legs, and then a horrible shooting pain in my middle finger. A few expletives were uttered in a less-than-discreet way (customers looked, that’s all I’ll say). Looking down, I saw a huge wasp crawling, stunned, on the escalator. I introduced the bastard to my big size 11 and then muttered further swears. Clearly, the wasp has been looking for a home and got itself stuck in the roof windows above the escalators in the store… But that doesn’t excuse its behaviour and it was dealt with accordingly! I was incredulous with anger through my injury (mainly to my pride that it hurt so much; I’m not 6…), and the fact that my mother not recycling is directly (ish) responsible for a fucking wasp being ALIVE IN NOVEMBER!
Department Stores have their ways…
There was this silly little chav-thing in store recently, and he was traipsing around store in a pair of stupid trainers, as you’d expect… So how amazing is it to find that, unlike most other shoes, these trainers create an incessant squeaking sound as he navigates. The concept is brilliant. Not only do you know when one is approaching, but you know where he is at a specific time, and when he’s stopped to sly a pack of Calvin Klein undies (SEVENTEEN OF MY ENGLISH POUNDS PER PACK!) into his coat pocket.
Fitting Room lols
I wasn’t that alien to this concept to be honest, but it is highly amusing… When a gentleman is shopping with his wife, he will enter the fitting room, and then – much to my confusion as I’m expecting him to go – will exit the fitting room wearing the t-shirt/jumper/jeans he and his wife have carefully selected. So there a middle age man will stand, looking meekly at his wife, with a ton of tags and other shop paraphernalia hanging off him going “what do you think?”
“You look like a knob” is still my favourite response. I had to “busy myself” with sorting out the fitting room rail so I could secretly howl to myself.
A name badge is nine tenths of the law
There is absolutely no reason why that statement was included, but I like it, and its staying. Deal. So anyway, I received my name badge on Saturday. I’m now Mr D. Menswear, Sales Advisor. Or David.
It has coincided, predictably, with huge numbers of people now approaching me. One man today asked for a dark blue pair of 36 inch jeans with a short leg. But they can’t be stonewashed. Or even vaguely patterned.
… Predictably, they couldn’t be found. He then went on to bitch about how the store was smaller than most others he had been in… I feel customer service might be talked about at length in the not-too-distant future.
Sunday, November 8th, 2009 at 10:09 pm
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