The Old, The Blind, and The Hungry

Nearing the end of my shift. My day was going pretty well. It’s the last thirty-minutes you least expect the demanding customers to come and verbally assault you.

The Old.
An older woman comes up to me, with her tall, round husband behind her. “Do you have cut-offs?”
I don’t know about you, but the first thing that comes to my mind is denim cut with those strings hanging off the bottom–something I can’t imagine either of them wearing. So I reply, “We don’t have any denim shorts.”
“What do you have?”
“I have khaki, plain-cotton material shorts.”
She yells at me, with a bitter tone, “Yes! That’s what I’ve been asking for! Cut-offs!” She does a sigh, growl at me.
As I take her to the table, I make time to tell her, “They haven’t called it cut-offs for a long time, they call it shorts these days. It’ll help you find what you’re looking for.”
So we get to the table. “What’s your largest size,” she asks. Oh well, we don’t carry sizes-44 or 46 in the store. I tell her to try department stores, they generally have a larger selection and supply of sizes on hand.

Customer Types: FashioNOTstas, Guessing Game

The Blind.
It’s an Indian couple, from India, and from all I’ve heard about the culture, the wisdom, and wonder, I’ve rarely met respectable people from there who fill me with a sense of awe and enlightenment. This couple kept asking me for discounts, and how much cheaper they can get our new product. Over-and-over again, they ask. By the time the wife comes and pokes a shirt in my face, I’m already disappointed.
“There are no mediums, I want a medium.”
I look around, because I know there is a huge supply of them somewhere. I know I’ve seen them.
“They’re right here!” She’s standing next to our sale wall, and there the shirts are smashed all together in our ‘Small’ section. I blindly grab for a size, pull it out, and obviously, what size is it? Medium. I give it to her. I’m so happy she actually spent one-second trying to find the size, since even a blind man could find it. Of course, she decides she doesn’t want the one that she wanted, and asks someone else for a medium we don’t have–that must give her some form of satisfaction, right? Easier to save money if you keep asking for things we don’t have, and the things we do have, you don’t want.

Customer Types: The Blind, The Riddler

The Hungry.
A woman approaches me, holding a bag of chocolates, the expensive sort–but she’s dressed very slovenly, so it seems like a rare treat for her. Her manners are just as slovenly, so she isn’t some princess in disguise. She has the look of what some call, “White Trash,” but as I’ve only seen it in movies, I can’t tell if it’s entirely accurate.

As she shoves a chocolate into her mouth, she shouts at me, while chewing, “You work here?” I look at my headset and my name-tag, and I suddenly wonder why I even wear these things. When I don’t wear them, people actually don’t ask if I work here, they just ask me for help. She tells me, well more she commands me to follow her. “Come with me.”

So we go to a mannequin, and it’s wearing a sweater, a sale sweater–and again I swear under my breath wondering why they don’t update our mannequins. I tell her it’s on sale, so it’s probably in the sale section. She shoves another chocolate into her mouth, with her daughter and husband in tow. I feel like a duck with babies following me. So they all stand there and watch me looking through the sale section.
“Is it there? Can you find it?”
“Not yet.”
“Is that it?”
“No.” Together you have six-arms, minus two for the chocolate-eater, I’m only so fast by myself. I feel like I’m picking cherries, with three bosses watching me.
“Is it the last one?”
I continue to look, “It might be.”
“Can you get it off the mannequin?”
“Yes, I might have to.”
“Well, go get it!” She shoves a chocolate-covered strawberry in her mouth at the same time.
Seriously, am I here to be demanded of? All I can reply is, “Yes-sir!”
I go to the mannequin, with the ducks in tow, and I take the sweater off and hand it to the daughter.
“Thank you,” the woman’s tone is much kinder now, but a bit too late.

Customer Types: The Dumb, Lowered Expectations, Micromanagement, Modern Slave-Owner

Advertisement

Shoplifter: How to Spot Them

Recently, some have challenged me, questioning how I can point out shoplifters–especially professionals. There are certain things you need to be a good shoplifter, partly I get this from observation, understanding, and my background in Psychology.

One of the most important things you need is a bag. You cannot steal unless you have a bag. I often give these people the opportunity to take off the clothes, mentioning it isn’t in the fitting room anymore, so I’ll save the room for them to finish changing. (Although there are some who will put on clothes and then walk out, but if you are aware in a fitting room, even on the sales floor, it isn’t hard to notice something isn’t right. I have also seen shoplifters walk out with entire piles of clothing. Once, a District Manager found her staff being lazy, so she actually moved an entire table out of the store, hiding it, then asked them, “What’s going on here? Why is there a table missing?”) I do not say people steal only with bags, but regardless, it is far easier to walk out of a store with stolen merchandise in a bag–unless it is a holiday or the salespeople are lazy, ignorant, or partially blind. I actually would think it’s disgraceful to steal from a blind person, but that’s my personal feelings.

As for bag-people, if they ask for a bag, you have zero-obligation to give them a bag unless they’ve made a purchase. Yes, I’ve made a shoplifter buy a pair of socks for a bag, just ensuring that he use his bag to steal from other stores than my own. A majority are left with the bags they have, which are generally easy to access with wide openings. Backpacks, yes, are left unzipped. Yet, others use shopping bags which are used and recycled far more than they should be. Others purchase special purses and bags for this purpose. Regardless, they should have a wide opening for easy access.

Secondly, a shoplifter has to know where you are. This is more crucial. If a salesperson is standing right next to a shoplifter, they can’t steal–and they can’t steal if they don’t know where all the salespeople are. (Once more we do have the blindness aspect, but that’s just crude.) This is one reason I move so quickly and randomly on the sales floor–you never know where I am or where I’ll appear. As some have told me, “You think there are people who generally don’t steal, but when they see no one is around, they are tempted to steal?” If no one is around, it’s our fault–or the fault of the staff on hand.

Shoplifters must pay as much attention to the salespeople as they do to the clothes, most often, they’ll spend more time finding out who works here and where they are located, before they can start stealing. Most customers don’t even see me coming, since I approach them from behind, surprising them with a greeting. Even shoplifters who are professionals, and know only to look for salespeople right before they steal something already catch the attention of a good salesperson–because that look almost always means, “I need help, where is a salesperson?” Giving the ‘look’, and then saying, “Oh, I’m just looking,” is already a warning-sign. If they are just looking, but not just looking at clothes, they have issues.

There are others who distract you by making you look away or get something for them. In this situation, it isn’t hard to ask someone else to get the item, while you wait with the shoplifter. I don’t know about everyone else, but I use my peripheral vision more than my center of gaze when looking at anything. One time shoplifters have distracted a coworker in order to walk out with a pile of clothing–literally, an entire pile walked right out of the store.

Shoplifters cannot help but act in a very particular fashion, even if they try to hide it. There are essential, basic needs they have in order to function, once you understand this, you understand the shoplifter. In the end, I still believe in the main idea–Treat Everyone Like Shoplifter. Give them good service, pay attention to them, watch them shop and help them by seeing what they look at, what interests them. Shoplifters can’t steal easily if you’re helping them the entire time.

Shoplifter: Welcome to the Jungle

We have a group of shoplifters, they are basically drag-queens–at least one of them is, and we think they others are. They could be ugly, fat women or ugly, fat guys with boobs and bad make-up. I’ve seen the drag-queen as a man, and he’s better off as a woman, believe me it’s scary. The man, though, is over six-feet two-inches tall and weighs well over two-hundred thirty pounds. He also wears high-heels.

The one thing I am blown away with is that, as huge as this man-woman is, whenever they walk through the store, no one, at all, ever sees them. It can be ten seconds later, and I ask, “Did you see a giant, giant fat drag-queen just walk by with two other giant fat women?” “No.” It is utter insanity that these shoplifters are such masters of illusion that they are totally invisible to the naked eye, because to me, they stand out like a beached whale at a sushi-bar. Or, perhaps my coworkers are chosen for the fact they see about as well in bright-daylight as bats, whom only use sonar and would consider these shoplifters just gigantic stalagmites in their way, similar to pillars. Since they are such skillful ninjas, they often just steal entire tables worth of clothing, and then disappear, without a single person seeing them–other than I. Seriously?

One day, we had a major project, and nearly the entire staff was working. I’m talking about one person every ten-feet. The shoplifters chose a really bad day to come in. I greet them as usual, and they, as usual, decide to split up and walk away from me–I can’t follow them all, right? I laugh, pulling out my walkie-talkie. Each and every one of my blind-as-moles coworkers received a very loud, “Hey, turn to the left!” I call out their name. They look up and find a giant drag-queen or a fat woman, whom jumps in surprise, and starts to bounce away like a pinball. I continue doing this for a little while more, then call out to them, “Bad day to come in, the entire staff is here and they all know what you look like now. Congratulations!” I went on to announce the presence of our most infamous shoplifters, whom have stolen hundreds of work-hours worth of clothing from my coworkers bank-accounts to pay for rent, food, and survive. They all turn to look at the drag-queen and his cohorts as they quickly leave, scowling at me.

“Thanks for coming, please come again!” I tell them as they leave. “At least they know what you look like now.”

Not a Box of Crayons, but…

A customer shows me a mannequin asking me where a T-shirt is. Easy enough, I take him nearby to a table filled with that T-shirt style, surrounded by a huge variety of different colors to pick from. There are at least twelve different colors available. I point at the color he asked for, in the very middle of the table; awash in a sea of colors.

He looks at me and asks, “There’s only one color?”

Customer Types: The Blind, The Dumb

Hellooooooo?

I’m standing there, amused, watching a coworker slaving over this one older, white woman. She’s making him get dozens of sizes, different colors, and different styles. All this is done while she’s standing there, not moving one step–it’s like she’s taken root to the floor. He’s standing barely a foot away from her, talking to her, helping her, and she’s just grabbing and pushing back different pieces of clothing. After about fifteen minutes of this, she goes to the register to pay.

I am folding a table, when I hear, “HELLOOOOO? HELLOOOOOOO? YOU THERE! HELLOOOOO?” And I turn, and see the same old woman waving at me, speaking in a rude tone. “Aren’t youuuu the one that was helping me?”
Oh. My… This coworker weighs about fifty pounds less than I do, is a totally different nationality and skin-color from me. We have different body-shapes. We have different hair-styles. We have different clothes on. We are wearing different colors. We don’t even look the same. And he helped her for fifteen minutes straight. No, woman we aren’t the same person!

The old woman shakes her head at me as if I did something wrong. “Helloooo?” She’s holding a pair of pants shaking it as well, obviously she doesn’t like something and thinks it’s my fault. The cashier is looking at me with a frown.
I yell out the other coworker’s name, saying, “Your customer is looking for you!” I don’t even bother to use the walkie-talkie, I just yell.

Wow, someone slaves helping you for long time, and you don’t even know what they look like? Good job! No wonder society can’t evolve properly.

Customer Type: The Blind, Modern Slave-Owner, The Racist

I say Cardigan, you say…

So a snotty looking woman comes in asking for a button-down sweater with long sleeves. “A cardigan”, I ask. She doesn’t know what they’re called, she just wants a button-down sweater with long sleeves, preferably black. So I take her to the very first item, right behind her, and I show her a black cardigan. A cardigan, by definition is a button-down sweater.

“No, this isn’t want I want! You don’t understand. What else do you have.”
So we move on, and I show her other options. Button-down hoodie…
“No, this isn’t right!” She shakes her head at me.

Basic pull-over sweater…
“Something like this, but with buttons going down.” She shakes her head again.

Henley…
“No, you aren’t even helping me find anything! Do you even know what I’m asking for? I’ll look around myself!” She yells at me, and stomps away. I greatly detest idiots.

Rushing, very angrily, to the front of the store, I grab the first item–the cardigan–and stop her, standing in her way. I’m shaking it in her face, “Black, sweater, button-down cardigan.”

She looks at the cardigan, and takes it out of my hand. She does not thank me as she walks away. Instead, she goes to try it on, and ends up buying it. Now this is a classic idiot, who most likely walked in, looked at me, and decided I didn’t know anything.

Customer types: Blind, Thankless, Agreeing to Disagree

P.S.
These are the kinds of customers that show how dumb people can be. I’ve had people ask me for a t-shirt with a collar–“A polo?” “I don’t know, show me what that is.” But more irritating, is being yelled at when I did nothing wrong just because they don’t even know the names of basic clothing; it is entirely the customer’s fault for being ignorant, but they feel the right to blame me for this ignorance. I didn’t even get a thank you for being put through this, being yelled at and treated like an idiot because of her stupidity, especially considering it was her fault she didn’t look at the item when I first showed it to her.