Tuesday, September 04, 2007
OK, first, on the business front: I got an offer from the landlords, but I have to negotiate a counteroffer. I expect a game of phone tag to commence tomorrow.
I logged on today to bitch about work. It's driving me BANANAS. It's just reaching a fever pitch at this point, so I'm praying with all my might that I can get my business money ASAP so I can quit that Mo Fo. As I predicted, the change in fitting room policy has resulted in me being nothing but a janitor in uncomfortable shoes. People are so effing disrespectful, it's all I can do not to follow them to their cars and cuss them out. This was Labor Day weekend, and it was CaRAZY-Ass busy. 300+ people in the door per hour for a couple hours straight. And when it gets that busy, it stresses people out, and they get more and more rude. It's horrible. First of all, Sunday was Screaming Babies with Unchanged Diapers Day. Every zone was a different smell. I went to the back room and asked, "JESUS CHRIST WHAT ARE THESE PEOPLE FEEDING THEIR CHILDREN???" Saturday, a woman came into the store asking us to help her locate a man who was supposed to be in our store shopping. We paged him by name in the fitting room, and several employees went throughout the store asking loudly for him. When we couldn't find him, we had to call security to help: it seems she was trying to locate this man because he had locked his elderly grandmother in the car while he shopped, and she was getting overheated and couldn't get out. About twenty minutes later, he wheeled her in, parked her in the corner and continued his shopping. Nobody believes me when I tell that story, but it's absolutely true.
Another fellow asked one of our newer employees if he could use our bathroom. She told him no, and directed him to the public restroom. He insisted that he's used our bathroom before, and since he was purchasing items, he had the RIGHT to use it. Nevermind that the store was PACKED and every employee on the clock was too busy to take time to escort him back and wait for him. Hey ASSHOLE, you're a GROWNUP, PLAN AHEAD. Walk to the bathroom and take a freaking leak, or wear Depends. It's not our job to accommodate your weak bladder. The poor girl had to relay his demand to a manager, who then had to come to the fitting room and explain to him that we were far too busy to help him. Give me a fucking break.
And then the cherry: Captain Birthday Shirt comes into the fitting room and tries on a dress shirt that's all folded and pinned around a cardboard frame. He brings it back along with all the plastic inserts and pins and such hands it to me. I say offhandedly, "I can take that for you." He says, "Can you put that back on the board for me?" Silly me, I think he's saying, "I'm done with this, and I can't figure out how to put it back how it belongs." I say, "Sure." and continue folding the shirt I was already working on. He is still standing there. I look up. "Because it's a gift and I want it to look nice." It slowly dawns on me what he wants. He took the shirt apart, tried it on, and now expects me to put it back together for him so he can buy it and give it to someone as a gift. And he proceeds to stand there and watch me do it. After he left, I whispered to the girl I was training, "I'm going to follow him to his car, rip his feet off and shove them up his ass."
One of our assistant managers announced the new Employee of the Month. I was not in the least surprised that it wasn't me. But he mentioned to me later that my name had come up, but that since they knew I'm planning on leaving, they went with someone else. What? Whatever, fuckers. And they have the nerve to wonder why I have a bad attitude? I mean really, why TRY to work any harder than you have to? There's no reward whatsoever. Rude customers, overworked managers. I don't get a penny more for a good job than I do for a bad one. Oh, they have a rewards program (which the Monthly award has a nice bonus for ). But they save the majority of those rewards for the employee who gets the most customers to sign up for a credit card. And since I work in the fitting room most of the time, and not at the cash register where people SIGN UP, I never win that. So what the fuck. Fuck them. It's demoralizing.
A side note: one of my co-workers quit--he joined the National Guard and is in basic training now. I miss him--he would have been the first one to start the "Lock Grandma In The Car" jokes. He was like a little brother to me (in fact, he reminded me of my oldest brother a lot). I wouldn't worry so much about him if I weren't sure he'll end up in Iraq before the year's over. He's a good kid, and I hope he stays safe.
In the meantime, Rusty is just getting more and more stressed out and depressed. I really worry about him... erratic sleep, drinking to get to sleep faster, foul moods most of the time, self-esteem in the crapper, gaining weight (see "self-esteem"). And with the new school quarter starting next week, I can only hope he can hold on long enough for my shop to open so he can quit that crappy job and start keeping Human Hours.
I logged on today to bitch about work. It's driving me BANANAS. It's just reaching a fever pitch at this point, so I'm praying with all my might that I can get my business money ASAP so I can quit that Mo Fo. As I predicted, the change in fitting room policy has resulted in me being nothing but a janitor in uncomfortable shoes. People are so effing disrespectful, it's all I can do not to follow them to their cars and cuss them out. This was Labor Day weekend, and it was CaRAZY-Ass busy. 300+ people in the door per hour for a couple hours straight. And when it gets that busy, it stresses people out, and they get more and more rude. It's horrible. First of all, Sunday was Screaming Babies with Unchanged Diapers Day. Every zone was a different smell. I went to the back room and asked, "JESUS CHRIST WHAT ARE THESE PEOPLE FEEDING THEIR CHILDREN???" Saturday, a woman came into the store asking us to help her locate a man who was supposed to be in our store shopping. We paged him by name in the fitting room, and several employees went throughout the store asking loudly for him. When we couldn't find him, we had to call security to help: it seems she was trying to locate this man because he had locked his elderly grandmother in the car while he shopped, and she was getting overheated and couldn't get out. About twenty minutes later, he wheeled her in, parked her in the corner and continued his shopping. Nobody believes me when I tell that story, but it's absolutely true.
Another fellow asked one of our newer employees if he could use our bathroom. She told him no, and directed him to the public restroom. He insisted that he's used our bathroom before, and since he was purchasing items, he had the RIGHT to use it. Nevermind that the store was PACKED and every employee on the clock was too busy to take time to escort him back and wait for him. Hey ASSHOLE, you're a GROWNUP, PLAN AHEAD. Walk to the bathroom and take a freaking leak, or wear Depends. It's not our job to accommodate your weak bladder. The poor girl had to relay his demand to a manager, who then had to come to the fitting room and explain to him that we were far too busy to help him. Give me a fucking break.
And then the cherry: Captain Birthday Shirt comes into the fitting room and tries on a dress shirt that's all folded and pinned around a cardboard frame. He brings it back along with all the plastic inserts and pins and such hands it to me. I say offhandedly, "I can take that for you." He says, "Can you put that back on the board for me?" Silly me, I think he's saying, "I'm done with this, and I can't figure out how to put it back how it belongs." I say, "Sure." and continue folding the shirt I was already working on. He is still standing there. I look up. "Because it's a gift and I want it to look nice." It slowly dawns on me what he wants. He took the shirt apart, tried it on, and now expects me to put it back together for him so he can buy it and give it to someone as a gift. And he proceeds to stand there and watch me do it. After he left, I whispered to the girl I was training, "I'm going to follow him to his car, rip his feet off and shove them up his ass."
One of our assistant managers announced the new Employee of the Month. I was not in the least surprised that it wasn't me. But he mentioned to me later that my name had come up, but that since they knew I'm planning on leaving, they went with someone else. What? Whatever, fuckers. And they have the nerve to wonder why I have a bad attitude? I mean really, why TRY to work any harder than you have to? There's no reward whatsoever. Rude customers, overworked managers. I don't get a penny more for a good job than I do for a bad one. Oh, they have a rewards program (which the Monthly award has a nice bonus for ). But they save the majority of those rewards for the employee who gets the most customers to sign up for a credit card. And since I work in the fitting room most of the time, and not at the cash register where people SIGN UP, I never win that. So what the fuck. Fuck them. It's demoralizing.
A side note: one of my co-workers quit--he joined the National Guard and is in basic training now. I miss him--he would have been the first one to start the "Lock Grandma In The Car" jokes. He was like a little brother to me (in fact, he reminded me of my oldest brother a lot). I wouldn't worry so much about him if I weren't sure he'll end up in Iraq before the year's over. He's a good kid, and I hope he stays safe.
In the meantime, Rusty is just getting more and more stressed out and depressed. I really worry about him... erratic sleep, drinking to get to sleep faster, foul moods most of the time, self-esteem in the crapper, gaining weight (see "self-esteem"). And with the new school quarter starting next week, I can only hope he can hold on long enough for my shop to open so he can quit that crappy job and start keeping Human Hours.
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