Friday, July 28, 2006
Today's JA
Despite the fact that the a/c in our Store was broken today, some customers couldn't take the hint and hung around for hours.
A little slightly off-topic advice: if you think that hiding in a corner will prevent us cs monkeys from noticing that you've been sitting in the store for five hours with your shoes off reading a stack of 10 crappy magazines or the latest Dean Koontz novel. We notice. We don't really care, mind you, but we notice. And for crying out loud, would you please for the love of all that is good and holy put your damned shoes back on your damned feet?
So today was hot. Super hot. Lack of air hot. Need a shower as soon as you step into the store hot. And as mentioned, there were those customers who seemed impervious to the heat that was melting the very skin off my body. Overall, however, those who hung around weren't too much of a bother.
Except for this one woman - cuz there's always gotta be one; our JA awardee, Ms. "My Conversation Is So Important I Have to Yell".
She spent oh probably a solid hour yelling into her cell/walkie-talkie, conducting business at the top of her lungs. Were I an employee of hers, I'd smite her down with a mighty blow. That bitch was one nasty...bitch. And so, the whole store got to hear her yell at what I could only imagine was her underpaid and underappreciated assistant. Somehow I managed to avoid the actual content of the "conversation" but I can't imagine having done so would have changed the direction of my life.
The kicker of this whole affair was that in the middle of shouting into her phone, she would then turn to her 2 children and give them the same treatment. In this day and age when parents are arrested for publicly chastising their children for running into the middle of traffic, I am amazed that someone would caterwaul at their offspring in a bookstore. But Ms. MCISIIHTY didn't stop there; while awaiting the next call from her yellee and after shrieking at her kids, she'd then start cooing at them, "My darlings, my babies".
Ew.
Listen lady, I can barely tolerate you when you're berating everyone, but when you start in with your wholly unbelievable sickly sweet bullshit, you've gone too far.
Maybe on a day when there was some a/c I could have dealt, but you picked today to come in and so you are our honored Jackass.
A little slightly off-topic advice: if you think that hiding in a corner will prevent us cs monkeys from noticing that you've been sitting in the store for five hours with your shoes off reading a stack of 10 crappy magazines or the latest Dean Koontz novel. We notice. We don't really care, mind you, but we notice. And for crying out loud, would you please for the love of all that is good and holy put your damned shoes back on your damned feet?
So today was hot. Super hot. Lack of air hot. Need a shower as soon as you step into the store hot. And as mentioned, there were those customers who seemed impervious to the heat that was melting the very skin off my body. Overall, however, those who hung around weren't too much of a bother.
Except for this one woman - cuz there's always gotta be one; our JA awardee, Ms. "My Conversation Is So Important I Have to Yell".
She spent oh probably a solid hour yelling into her cell/walkie-talkie, conducting business at the top of her lungs. Were I an employee of hers, I'd smite her down with a mighty blow. That bitch was one nasty...bitch. And so, the whole store got to hear her yell at what I could only imagine was her underpaid and underappreciated assistant. Somehow I managed to avoid the actual content of the "conversation" but I can't imagine having done so would have changed the direction of my life.
The kicker of this whole affair was that in the middle of shouting into her phone, she would then turn to her 2 children and give them the same treatment. In this day and age when parents are arrested for publicly chastising their children for running into the middle of traffic, I am amazed that someone would caterwaul at their offspring in a bookstore. But Ms. MCISIIHTY didn't stop there; while awaiting the next call from her yellee and after shrieking at her kids, she'd then start cooing at them, "My darlings, my babies".
Ew.
Listen lady, I can barely tolerate you when you're berating everyone, but when you start in with your wholly unbelievable sickly sweet bullshit, you've gone too far.
Maybe on a day when there was some a/c I could have dealt, but you picked today to come in and so you are our honored Jackass.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
No Kidding...
A friend just directed me here.
Man speaks the truth.
If only my Store (now to be referred to with a capital "S") believed in the serf-free employment plan discussed therein.
Man speaks the truth.
If only my Store (now to be referred to with a capital "S") believed in the serf-free employment plan discussed therein.
Today's Jackass Award
In an effort to create something on-going, I plan on nominating someone on a daily basis to receive the Jackass Award. This might be a customer, random person related to the job, manager, or the corporation as a whole. The JA is an award of distinction and honor and though the recipients will never know, there just might a little extra trip in their step.
Today's JA goes to Mr. "I Want a Non-existent Discount".
Mr. IWANED shows up at the store today, and doesn't understand why the book he wants is no longer discounted. It was discounted last week because it was a bestseller last week; this week is has gone the way of so many bright shining literary works - publisher listed price. But today's honoree refuses to allow this.
Apparently, he told someone last week that he would be in to purchase said book in a week or so and how dare that bookseller not tell him that the book might not be discounted at this later undetermined date. Full of piss, vinegar, and more piss, he threw such a stink, I called over a manager.
When the manager confirmed everything I had already said, Mr. IWANED took out his membership card, waved it wildly in the air and announced that if "that is the way you do business, I want this card cancelled immediately!" The manager exhibiting more restraint than I would have in the situation, insisted that it was just luck of the draw that the book in question was no longer a bestseller and not some grand scheme to deprive our customers of the vital $3 savings. But our favorite person would still not be swayed and waved his card around some more, this time way above his head.
Giving in (probably to end the transaction and get the jackass out of the store), the manager sold him the book with the discount that no longer existed. The tone in Mr. IWANED's voice changed at once and he declared how delighted he'd be to continue being a member of our fine institution.
Congratulations, sir, on a job well done. You are a jackass of the highest caliber.
Today's JA goes to Mr. "I Want a Non-existent Discount".
Mr. IWANED shows up at the store today, and doesn't understand why the book he wants is no longer discounted. It was discounted last week because it was a bestseller last week; this week is has gone the way of so many bright shining literary works - publisher listed price. But today's honoree refuses to allow this.
Apparently, he told someone last week that he would be in to purchase said book in a week or so and how dare that bookseller not tell him that the book might not be discounted at this later undetermined date. Full of piss, vinegar, and more piss, he threw such a stink, I called over a manager.
When the manager confirmed everything I had already said, Mr. IWANED took out his membership card, waved it wildly in the air and announced that if "that is the way you do business, I want this card cancelled immediately!" The manager exhibiting more restraint than I would have in the situation, insisted that it was just luck of the draw that the book in question was no longer a bestseller and not some grand scheme to deprive our customers of the vital $3 savings. But our favorite person would still not be swayed and waved his card around some more, this time way above his head.
Giving in (probably to end the transaction and get the jackass out of the store), the manager sold him the book with the discount that no longer existed. The tone in Mr. IWANED's voice changed at once and he declared how delighted he'd be to continue being a member of our fine institution.
Congratulations, sir, on a job well done. You are a jackass of the highest caliber.
Customers Suck
After several years of handling corporate accounts (basically customer service over the phone) I have traded in my desk for a name tag and have joined the thousands toiling away in retail stores across the country. It's amazing how much of a buffer is provided by a phone.
Now I'm lucky; I'm not working a fry-o-later or helping 40-year-old men pick out the one shirt that just might hide their 20-year-old beer gut enough so that their 22-year-old secretary might finally agree to sleep with them on the conference room table. No, nothing like that. I merely sell books to idiots.
And though my friends believe that my job allows me nothing but time and space to read to my heart's content with an occasional moment of serving the customers who patronize the store, they are sorely sorely mistaken.
Most of my day is spent helping the helpless.
Not "helpless" as in those who ride the short bus or have prosthetic testicles, you know people who are actually helpless. I use the term helpless to refer to those who have full usage of their limbs and faculties and yet are ostensibly incapable of doing anything for themselves. Not only can they never figure out the layout of a store that is almost the same no matter which branch you visit anywhere in the country, they cannot manage to remember the name of the author or of the book that they are looking for. I mean, Jesus Tapdancing Christ, they cannot even figure out where the bathroom is. People - the store is 2 goddamn stories, common sense dictates that it's gotta be against one of them, right? So venture a guess and assume it'll be against one of the walls and take a stroll. It'll be an adventure...like the Goonies looking for One Eyed Willie's pirate treasure...except you'll be looking for a magical stall not a pirate ship and instead of chests of doubloons, a urinal cake.
Ahem.
Back to the point at hand.
I help the helpless locate books, magazines, and assorted other items. This is not rocket science, brain surgery, or creating peace in the Middle East. There is no reason for frustration or angst to enter into it on a daily basis. And yet. Every single goddamned day I encounter some jackass who manages to destroy my sangfroid and enrage me above and beyond. The most typical request that angers the blood is "I am looking for a book. I don't know the name of the book or the author, but I think the book is blue. Oh and I'm not sure if it's a novel or a biography. Or maybe it's a history book? You know what I'm talking about right? It was reviewed in the New York Times maybe six months ago."
When I can't find the book after 20 minutes of searching the computer and the shelves for something as locatable as the Holy Grail, it is some sort of moral failure on my part. If the customer had anything to do about it, I'd feel so ashamed, I'd commit seppuku just to right the universe. My inability to locate their title-less, author-less, section-less book is a slight against me personally, the store and all who work there, my relatives (both living and deceased), and an act of treason against these glorious United States.
Guess I'm lucky the customer has nothing to do with.
Lord, I hate them.
Now I'm lucky; I'm not working a fry-o-later or helping 40-year-old men pick out the one shirt that just might hide their 20-year-old beer gut enough so that their 22-year-old secretary might finally agree to sleep with them on the conference room table. No, nothing like that. I merely sell books to idiots.
And though my friends believe that my job allows me nothing but time and space to read to my heart's content with an occasional moment of serving the customers who patronize the store, they are sorely sorely mistaken.
Most of my day is spent helping the helpless.
Not "helpless" as in those who ride the short bus or have prosthetic testicles, you know people who are actually helpless. I use the term helpless to refer to those who have full usage of their limbs and faculties and yet are ostensibly incapable of doing anything for themselves. Not only can they never figure out the layout of a store that is almost the same no matter which branch you visit anywhere in the country, they cannot manage to remember the name of the author or of the book that they are looking for. I mean, Jesus Tapdancing Christ, they cannot even figure out where the bathroom is. People - the store is 2 goddamn stories, common sense dictates that it's gotta be against one of them, right? So venture a guess and assume it'll be against one of the walls and take a stroll. It'll be an adventure...like the Goonies looking for One Eyed Willie's pirate treasure...except you'll be looking for a magical stall not a pirate ship and instead of chests of doubloons, a urinal cake.
Ahem.
Back to the point at hand.
I help the helpless locate books, magazines, and assorted other items. This is not rocket science, brain surgery, or creating peace in the Middle East. There is no reason for frustration or angst to enter into it on a daily basis. And yet. Every single goddamned day I encounter some jackass who manages to destroy my sangfroid and enrage me above and beyond. The most typical request that angers the blood is "I am looking for a book. I don't know the name of the book or the author, but I think the book is blue. Oh and I'm not sure if it's a novel or a biography. Or maybe it's a history book? You know what I'm talking about right? It was reviewed in the New York Times maybe six months ago."
When I can't find the book after 20 minutes of searching the computer and the shelves for something as locatable as the Holy Grail, it is some sort of moral failure on my part. If the customer had anything to do about it, I'd feel so ashamed, I'd commit seppuku just to right the universe. My inability to locate their title-less, author-less, section-less book is a slight against me personally, the store and all who work there, my relatives (both living and deceased), and an act of treason against these glorious United States.
Guess I'm lucky the customer has nothing to do with.
Lord, I hate them.
