Posts Tagged ‘self-respect’

Customer Type: Piggies

January 26, 2010

There are too many times customers come up to me and show me a shirt saying, “Do you have another one, this one has make-up on it. I can’t find another one.” And you won’t find another one, because that’s the last one, just because some dumb-ass with too much make-up on their face decided to rub it on the shirt they tried on or some woman with lipstick doesn’t even try to suck in her lips as she takes of a shirt. Even worse, some of these are wide scoop necks, so you know they really put effort struggling and rubbing their face into those shirts. Personally, I would just throw those shirts away when a customer hands it to me–like thanks, this is going to go into the price-kills one day.

You know, that would be a great strategy if you really like a shirt. Just go and try it on, decide you look beautiful in it, and then rub your face on it. Months later, you can return and rummage through the pile, and if you’re lucky, you won’t find a greedier person that realizes all you need to do is wash the damn shirt–instead of complaining to salespeople about the stain–and get a shirt for a fabulous, make-up free price.

That’s just one type of Piggie. The obvious one are people who have to rummage around nicely folded piles of clothes, like a pig in a trough, lifting, looking, throwing down, one-after-another. Some people think they’re giving us something to do, as if we’re bored standing around waiting for you to make a mess. I really wish we, as consumers and customers, could do that elsewhere…

*Imagines* Going into a bank, and walking behind the counter, grabbing their files and throwing it on the ground, rubbing my face all over the dollar bills, then leaving. Going to a businessman’s office, and opening all his fancy books in his bookshelf, leaving sticky notes all over his stuff, and then rubbing my face on his computer screen. I’d love to see a doctor’s face as you dirty his tools, or a construction worker’s face as you kick dirt into a hole he just dug, or a police man’s face as you graffiti on his squad car–oh wait, you can’t do that.

People who make messes don’t even think about the next person that comes along, the next ‘equal’, another customer, who needs to find a size, but because of you, Mr. Piggie, there is just a pile of cloth in shambles. Dropping clothes off hangars and walking away–when I’m not working, I yell at customers who do that at other stores, and I often follow them saying, “So you really aren’t going to pick that up? You’re just going to drop it on the ground and walk away?” You know, there are things called dust and lint on the ground that tend to gather on clothes left idly on the floor. Do other people really need to pay for your lack of respect, responsibility, and a furthering of the lack of evolutionary movement towards equality and understanding in society? One day, it will be a requirement to think about other people when they do things that affect the lives of others, it’s called morals. Oh never mind, we already have that.


Customer Type: Piggies

F-ing B

December 5, 2009

An angry faced father comes up to the counter with his daughter and throws down a pile of clothes at me. I ask if he found everything okay, and he doesn’t reply–his shades being worn indoors reveals nothing. My manager once said wearing shades inside makes you look suspicious and ridiculous. The man pulls out his wallet and quickly swipes his card, then puts it back into his wallet, and puts it away. The clothes is a mess of twisted and inside-out apparel. I try to re-fold it nicely, scanning the items one at a time. I press total, and now minutes later, the register is ready for his swipe.

*Please Swipe Your Card*
The man stares at the screen for several seconds, then grumbles, “It says to swipe my card!”
“It wasn’t ready before, but now you can swipe.”
“You fucking bitch,” he swears at me as he pulls out his wallet and violently swipes his card again. Really? The things I need to put up with.

Customer Type: Big Baby

Visit California.

December 5, 2009

A customer comes to the register, she’s already sassy, sarcastic and rude–which is a promising sign, right?
She throws a leather jacket on the counter, smirking. “How much does this cost?”
I grab the tag and show her.
“Oh, it’s right there? So expensive, is this even real leather? It doesn’t feel real.” She examines the jacket while making more comments. “I’m sure you don’t know, but is this available online? Can you find out for me?”
“What size?”
“A small.”
“Yes, it is available.”
“Oh, you can see that? Really now? Can you see other stores, too?”
“Yes.”
“Since you don’t have a size small in this store, I want my daughter to go to the store near her to try it on. But I don’t want her to waste her time going all the way to the store if it isn’t even there.”
“It says we might have small in our store, I can go and check in the back.”
“Oh? You can do that for me? Be a dear.”
So I leave, and let my co-worker deal with finding the other store.
I find the jacket and my co-worker rushes by me. I find out she wants to know about a store in Corte Madera, California–but our system is unable to search that far without direct information or a direct number to locate it. He’s a bit upset by how she was speaking to him–wondering why he can’t find the store–yet, no one has even heard of that part of California, or knew a store even existed there. While he searches, I go out to give her the jacket.
“This looks like the right size. Did you find out if Corte Madera has one, too?”
“I haven’t even heard of Corte Madera.”
“Honey, your store should let you leave the island, and visit California once in a while, then you’ll know a little more.”
My jaw drops. For her knowledge, I spent several years there, I just never visited the crack of land known of Corte Madera.

Customer Type: Capitalist, Micromanagement, Modern Slave-Owner

Fashion meets the Slob

December 5, 2009

I’m at the front of the store greeting customers, trying to keep the entrance organized and clean-looking. A couple walks in. The guy is short and fat, his head was shaved roughly two weeks ago. To say it’s stubbly is an understatement. He is wearing a plain, gray tank-top and black, long-long basketball shorts–they look like women’s cropped pants–and slippers (flip-flops. the rubber kind). He looks at me up and down, and says something to his girlfriend, whom turns to look at me and they both chuckle, turn and leave the store. They’ve only walked about two-feet into the store before they leave.

I say flatly, “Good-bye.” I make sure to visually acknowledge the fact his girlfriend is wearing a black hoodie, which is tight enough to show she has at least two rolls of fat, cut-off denim shorts revealing her voluminous thighs and similar slippers (flip-flops, the rubber kind).

Gosh, I must have looked like a slob to them since I was dressed in a dress shirt, slacks and clean boots.

Customer Type: Lowered Expectations

Introductions are Inevitable

September 5, 2009

This is the beginning of my blog dedicated to my time in retail. I’ve witnessed many things that irritate and bother, disturb and discomfort, as my coworkers always wonder, “Do these customers really have to act like this?” ‘This’ being a reflection of the current state of our world and society, of capitalism, of modern slavery, and our actions towards each other as living, human beings incapable of even minor respect and dignity towards each other.
Most of these stories will be heard 1000 times around the world, every single day; perhaps these stories happen 10s of 1000s of times or more. The fact they exist, and the fact that consumers feel the need to have this false sense of security and power through their money, large or small, is a serious blow to any society that wants to see itself as evolved, intelligent, or even to be taken seriously.