Posts Tagged ‘owner’

The Old, The Blind, and The Hungry

February 14, 2011

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

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Friends, Family, Countrymen…

February 19, 2010

I can’t handle people who are rude, dumb, or senseless, coming into the workplace of one of their friends (or family members), acting like they own the place, saying, “Is my friend working today? I want to complain!” Now, if a friend comes into the store and is courteous, sensible, and acts totally respectable, then some coworker is rude to them, I totally understand–complain away and get them fired. But when a friend walks in acting like a jackass and then complains because people aren’t bowing down to them just because they ‘know a manager’, then they have issues. I’m speaking of ‘Big Baby’, ‘Capitalism’, and ‘Modern-Day Slavery’ issues.

I tell people, if my own mother came in and acted rude to my co-workers, I would yell at her in front of everyone.  If I have a friend that’s a jackass, my friend is never allowed to come in. I even warn my friends, “If you are coming in today, behave yourself, or I will kick you out.” We have enough rude, obnoxious customers, we don’t need more–especially if they’re going to make a bad impression on someone who works there. You degrade the status of your friendship, and your worth as a human being. I expect more from people who are my friends, they aren’t my friends because of pity or circumstance–at least you can choose friends, you no power to choose family members who ‘aren’t embarrassing’, like the aunt who tried to use her nephew’s employee discount, “I am a customer! I can do what I want!” Not really.

In all of this, I’m often told how nice and courteous I am when I’m shopping at other stores. Because I really believe there are certain social graces you should have when you walk into a place of business. There is a certain level of respect and dignity you should give and take.  My friends are surprised I’m not rude or sarcastic when I’m shopping. Yet, the moment I run into a rude customer anywhere, I pounce. Rude customers think they’re better than salespeople. What does a rude customer do when they meet their ‘equal’? From my experience, they gasp in surprise, and then walk away with their tail between their legs–just like bullies in high school who have self-esteem issues. Think about that for a moment. Go on, think.

The bottom line is this, all of my friends and family know, you do not walk into the place I work and act like you’re god’s gift to mankind. I don’t except other people’s friends or family to walk in acting like they’re special. If you want to feel like you’re better than someone else or own them, I recommend a spa-package somewhere where they must treat you like a princess, or perhaps a time-machine to older days that no longer exist which involved whips and plantations.

Made in Bangkok.

September 12, 2009

I’m approaching an older white couple, and the wife is looking at the shirt tags, her voice in disbelief. “This is made in Thailand. This is made in Hong Kong. This is made in Bangkok!”

I was already expecting them to be rude to me or treat me as a third-world slave, because I am not white, and many people of certain generations and backgrounds will treat others in that subservient, second-class fashion, so I greet them with a warm hello. She looks at me, and they both walk away.

I walk up to the shirt she was looking at: Made in Bangladesh.

Isn’t is sad when a white racist with discrimination-issues can’t even read in English? Kind of ironic really. Sadly, she’s lived her entire life like that, and will die like that, sounds like a waste of 80-years.

Customer Type: Racist, Modern Slave-Owner