I Want Darker!

I realize I let most of the minor irritations slip through, because there are so many every day things which people do that fall into the category of rude, absent-minded, and ridiculous. I’ve been thinking about them, when one of ‘those’ customers whom always find me came yelling.

“I want a darker color!”
I look at a pair of tights he’s holding, and they’re dark gray. So obviously, I ask, “You want a darker gray?” This would basically be black.
“No! I want darker!”
I stand and stare at him. “So you want black?”
“No! Darker! I want darker!”
First, I don’t know why he’s yelling at me, but I did find out later he was a tourist from China. If you’ve been to the restaurants, you learn when they yell, they’re actually just talking.
“Darker! I want darker!”
“If you don’t want black what do you want? A color, name a color.”
“Darker!”
“Brown, navy blue, black…”
“Darker! Black! I want black!”
My eyes roll into my head, as I take the tights he handed to me and toss them aside as a sign I’m not taking his crap when I return. So I go into the back, to look for the tights, and someone tells me we have none. So after letting out a long shriek on the walkie-talkies, I come back out to find if there are any lost on the sales floor. Of course, I find one. Of course, I give it to him in the side he wants. And of course, what does he do?
“I want softer! Do you have softer! Softer!”
I’m no longer in the mood to be yelled at with no reason, or being yelled at with a good reason. “No, no softer. None. Only one.” And I walk away.

Customer Types: Capitalist, Learn the Language

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NOT M-SIZE!

I’m trapped at the cash registers again, and there is a couple visiting from another country, as I find out, Korea.

There was a long line, and I call the next customers over, but the man is standing there staring at me. Other people behind him are staring at the back of his head. Then he starts yelling in Korean with an angry face. He’s looking at me, but I realize he’s yelling at the woman nearby, who is rummaging through a pile of shirts. He yells again, this time at her, tugging on her arm. I just stand there. Finally, she puts the shirts she was looking at, down, and they approach the register.

The woman comes, shaking a shirt, “I like this color!” But, her face is angry, mad. “I like this color!”
“Okay, that’s nice.”
“No, I like this color, but the size is wrong!”
“What size do you..”
“I like the color, but the size is wrong!”
“What size do you need?”
“It is the wrong size! I like the color!”
“Okay, what size do you…”
“I like the color, but the size is wrong! I don’t want M-size!”
“What size do you need?”
“I don’t want M-size!” She shakes the shirt at me, pointing at the Medium sticker printed on the shirt. “I like the color, but the size is wrong!”
I look at the husband, who is also yelling, but at her. I don’t understand what they’re saying, but I’m sure it makes as much sense as I’m hearing.
“This is the wrong size,” she continues, “I don’t want M-size!”
I just stand there, with my hands on my hips. “I know.”
“I don’t want M-size.”
“Yes.”
Then the husband finally cuts in, “No M-size, she needs S-size.”
“Small?”
“S-size!”
“M is medium, and S is small. She needs a smaller size?”
“Yes, she doesn’t want M-size, she wants S-size.”
So I go rummage through the pile, while asking for a stock check. I find an S-size in the same color, but it’s a crew neck, not a v-neck. I leave them behind me, so they can stop staring at me, and instead stare at the counter, or each other, or a nice wall, or whatever. I go into the stock room, restating our ‘conversation’, while a manager on break says, “Breathe!”
I just reply, “They can wait for me to come back, they want the S-size so bad.”

Customer Type: Guessing Game, Learn the Language

Wrong Color… Nevermind.

I do so love customers who will shout and yell at you like you’re dumb, but when they realize they’re totally wrong, they don’t even apologize, but continue to somehow act like it’s still your fault.

I’m helping customers with denim, and a girl says she wants this certain pair, but she can’t find it on the floor. I walk up to look at it, and it’s a gray denim–right next to it, folded are a pile of the same pants. This is an example of the miracle of merchandising, because wouldn’t you expect to find clothes from an outfit within viewing or grabbing distance of a mannequin or display? Of course, if you come from a world where everything seems to go wrong, and nothing works your way, then sure, you’d think the denim is somewhere else, taunting you, hiding from your grubby fingers, laughing mightily at your dismay; but this ain’t crazy-land.

I point at the stack, and say, “This is the denim you’re looking for.”
“No, it’s not.” She pauses, and I don’t say anything to refute her–I just have a face that says, ‘Oh really? Sure, whatever you say, I totally believe you.’ She makes a perturbed face, “It’s not! It’s a different color. It’s not the same color. Look!” She lifts it, shoving it next to the mannequin, with all the fury of a child. There are several moments of silence, as if we were remembering the departing of a loved one, or watching her pride shrivel up and dry like a tomato trapped in equatorial, noonday sunshine–but in that case, sun-dried tomato might actually taste much better.

“Nevermind,” is all that escapes her bitter lips, as she holds onto the denim and walks away, as if she were triumphant in some sort of one-sided gladiatorial match between herself and her shadow.

Anyway, I move on to something else, like instantly reciting the story to the closest co-worker for them to laugh and roll their eyes, to say, “Wow, the nerve of some people!”

Customer Type: The Blind, Unapologetic

The Douche

Sometimes you gotta work with douche-bags, as they are called. In general, I cater respect to the hard-working, productive members of my peers at work. Even the coolest, nicest, happiest people are treated with disdain if all they do is cause more work for other people, don’t do work themselves, and otherwise do nothing to benefit the workplace in financial ways. (Hard-working happy people will make everyone happy; happy people who do nothing generally just talk and stand.)

Douche is one of those people who tell head-cashiers how to do their job–even though he doesn’t know proper procedures. He leaves large, unsightly piles in front of the store for people who are busy actually helping customers,  telling them to put it away for him, so the clothes becomes an eyesore for anyone else who comes in. Consistently, he also asks for needless stock-checks for items we don’t even have, and shows his inability to even describe clothing accurately.

So today, the manager is trying to fill the floor with merchandise, and asks on the walkie-talkie, “Hey, can anyone tell me if the lace camisoles in tan and grey are marked on sale?”
Someone replies, “I’ll go look.”
“He’s standing right there,” I reply about the Douche, who is folding the lace camisoles.
There is silence.
The manager breaks the silence, “I’ll just look myself.”
Again the same person says, “I’ll go look.” So I go with him to the table the Douche is still standing, folding the lace camisoles. When we get there, I look at one of the tags to see if it’s on sale…
Douche instantly tells us, “The grey and tan are on sale, they’re all on sale.” He states this in his usual, sassy mightier-than-thou way. So obviously, he was listening to our entire conversation, uninterested in letting us distract his folding by even slightly helping us out, pressing a simple button to answer the manager’s question.
So I am left to say on the walkie-talkie, “Yes, they are all on sale.” I roll my eyes as I walk away. He truly is a piece of work.

Rainy Days

So a woman is standing there looking at an item which comes in a variety of colors. I greet her, and show her some benefits of the product. Then she asks me of I have more of a certain color. So I go and bring back a gray shade. She’s holding a pink and a blue. She asks me what color I’d buy. And I tell her the gray will have the most versatility of the three colors. And she keeps asking me, if I’m sure. And I tell her, basically, it’s whatever she wants. Then she looks at me and she says, “I need a woman to help me. Isn’t there a woman who can help me? Get me a woman.” Incredulous, I ask the only female coworker nearby to assist this woman.

Later, I asked her how it went. My coworker said she liked the blue color, but the customer kept asking if she was sure. That customer ended up purchasing the pink color.

What was this item? An umbrella.

Customer Types: Sexual Discriminator, The Riddler