Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Have I mentioned lately how much I hate my stupid job?
When I went in yesterday, I discovered that despite the fact that my schedule read "Recovery" (which means straightening the store and putting stuff away), I was actually in the Fitting Room. My hatred for the fitting room knows no bounds. The customers are rude, you're trapped in a tiny enclosed space, and the work is either very demanding or extremely boring, very rarely anything in between. I think the thing I hate the most is the fact that 90% of the customers never even look me in the eye, completely ignore everything I say (i.e.: "Please drape the items you don't want over the door." or "Let me know if I can get another size for you."). And there's something very humiliating about having people ignore your efforts to engage them and then turn around and toss their refuse in your direction or leave it crumpled on the floor. I feel like a toilet scrubber or a criminal.
The week after Christmas, I was scheduled in the fitting room again (98% of my shifts are always there), by myself--as if they seriously expected it to be slow. It was easily the busiest day since Black Friday. By 11am, the pile of clothes waiting to be put back from the fitting room had filled every rack I could get to, and begun piling up on the station counters so high you could no longer see over the top. The line was at least 12 people deep, and all 11 fitting rooms were constantly full. My A-Hole manager (the one who happens to do the scheduling) was "busy" putting some hardware together on the floor--as if rearranging the layout was the most important task of the day--and never bothered to attempt to assist me in any way. I was LIVID. I have never been so close to just walking out in the middle of a shift. The next day, I told A-Hole to stop putting me in there, or I was likely to hurt someone. For the rest of the month, I had nothing but shipment and promo shifts, which suits me fine, because they're early morning shifts and I can get home around the same time (or before) my kids. It sucks because it leaves me with only about 12-16 hrs a week. But then, payroll has been trimmed so thin, only the full time staff is working more than that anyway, so I'm not really missing out on hours.
So I was less than thrilled by the bait-and-switch nature of my schedule. I discover that the other hourly person scheduled was Leah, at the cash register. Leah's title is "Fitting Room Specialist". She is scheduled for the exact same hours as I am. My head wants to just IMfuckingPLODE. My manager asks me how I'm doing. I told her I was irritated. "Why?" So I told her. She advised me to speak to the store manager about the situation. I told her I would. I spent the next hour busying myself with utter bullshit because there wasn't a single customer in the store. This gives me lots of time to fuel my anger and stew in it. Then my manager comes in and says that she asked about why Leah was at the cash register, and was told that she had an agreement that she'd only take that title if she would only be scheduled there during the weekends (when we're busy and there's something to do). This does not help my temperment, but I really did HONESTLY try to reign it in. I've been through some bad bouts of depression and anxiety lately, and I'm just exhausted from it all, and I want to do anything I can to avoid returning to it. Before I have a chance to get centered, A-Hole comes in and asks if I would come to the office for a talk with him and the Store Manager. He had overheard my complaint to my manager and they needed to talk about it.
Ugh. The whole talk was pointless. First they tried to insist that they don't do let people dictate where they're assigned (not knowing that my manager had just told me about Leah's agreement). Then they lecture me about how they don't understand why I think it's so bad to be back there. Then they try to tell me they only put people at the cash register who get credit cards. "When was the last time you got a credit card?" "The last time I had a shift at the cash register." This seemed to surprise them, and confirmed my suspicion that the fact that my name keeps getting left off the tally that they aren't crediting me for the cards that I do get. Then they try to tell me that they only schedule people at the register who are good at keeping busy when there are no customers. [What? I'm the one shooing other employees away from the cash wrap and standing at the nearby tables refolding items most of the time. I may zone out after a rush for a couple of minutes, but this doesn't happen enough to warrant such a stupid conclusion.] At this point I'm trying to interrupt them and just explain that I did not seek out someone to complain about my assignment, I was asked a question and I answered it. I reiterate that I understand that scheduling is a problem for them because of the budget and variety of employees' needs to fill, and it's not my intention to be a pain in the ass, but I am allowed to have an opinion. My main problem for the moment, I tell them, is that it has become physically difficult for me to keep up with the work in the fitting room. The floor is cheap veneer panelling over concrete, you stand in a 6-sq foot station and escort customers back and forth down the hallway to fitting rooms. On a busy day, I easily walk more than 15 miles in a 4 hour shift. I have a very limited number of shoes I can wear because their dress code prohibits sneakers AND "Fashion Sneakers", and the insoles that help are so bulky that they don't fit in a shoe that can't adjust across the top of my foot. Even with decent shoes and insoles, I'm a wreck after even a short shift. All the walking is wearing out the only decent pair of shoes I have left, and I'm trying to save them for the shifts I know I will do the most walking, so when I get a shift that says "Recovery", I mistakenly think I'm going to be standing around refolding things and wear shoes suited to that purpose. Because of that, and the lack of cushioned mats at the fitting room station (like the ones at the cash register and in the stockroom), a shift in the fitting room usually leaves me nearly unable to walk the next day. Naturally, trying to explain this is so fucking humiliating that I end up crying like a fucking idiot.
And of course today I still can't walk normally, the ball of my left foot in particular is so sore it feels like it ought to be swollen and purple.
And tomorrow I have to go back for another "recovery" shift. And I know exactly what that means. Fuckers.
When I went in yesterday, I discovered that despite the fact that my schedule read "Recovery" (which means straightening the store and putting stuff away), I was actually in the Fitting Room. My hatred for the fitting room knows no bounds. The customers are rude, you're trapped in a tiny enclosed space, and the work is either very demanding or extremely boring, very rarely anything in between. I think the thing I hate the most is the fact that 90% of the customers never even look me in the eye, completely ignore everything I say (i.e.: "Please drape the items you don't want over the door." or "Let me know if I can get another size for you."). And there's something very humiliating about having people ignore your efforts to engage them and then turn around and toss their refuse in your direction or leave it crumpled on the floor. I feel like a toilet scrubber or a criminal.
The week after Christmas, I was scheduled in the fitting room again (98% of my shifts are always there), by myself--as if they seriously expected it to be slow. It was easily the busiest day since Black Friday. By 11am, the pile of clothes waiting to be put back from the fitting room had filled every rack I could get to, and begun piling up on the station counters so high you could no longer see over the top. The line was at least 12 people deep, and all 11 fitting rooms were constantly full. My A-Hole manager (the one who happens to do the scheduling) was "busy" putting some hardware together on the floor--as if rearranging the layout was the most important task of the day--and never bothered to attempt to assist me in any way. I was LIVID. I have never been so close to just walking out in the middle of a shift. The next day, I told A-Hole to stop putting me in there, or I was likely to hurt someone. For the rest of the month, I had nothing but shipment and promo shifts, which suits me fine, because they're early morning shifts and I can get home around the same time (or before) my kids. It sucks because it leaves me with only about 12-16 hrs a week. But then, payroll has been trimmed so thin, only the full time staff is working more than that anyway, so I'm not really missing out on hours.
So I was less than thrilled by the bait-and-switch nature of my schedule. I discover that the other hourly person scheduled was Leah, at the cash register. Leah's title is "Fitting Room Specialist". She is scheduled for the exact same hours as I am. My head wants to just IMfuckingPLODE. My manager asks me how I'm doing. I told her I was irritated. "Why?" So I told her. She advised me to speak to the store manager about the situation. I told her I would. I spent the next hour busying myself with utter bullshit because there wasn't a single customer in the store. This gives me lots of time to fuel my anger and stew in it. Then my manager comes in and says that she asked about why Leah was at the cash register, and was told that she had an agreement that she'd only take that title if she would only be scheduled there during the weekends (when we're busy and there's something to do). This does not help my temperment, but I really did HONESTLY try to reign it in. I've been through some bad bouts of depression and anxiety lately, and I'm just exhausted from it all, and I want to do anything I can to avoid returning to it. Before I have a chance to get centered, A-Hole comes in and asks if I would come to the office for a talk with him and the Store Manager. He had overheard my complaint to my manager and they needed to talk about it.
Ugh. The whole talk was pointless. First they tried to insist that they don't do let people dictate where they're assigned (not knowing that my manager had just told me about Leah's agreement). Then they lecture me about how they don't understand why I think it's so bad to be back there. Then they try to tell me they only put people at the cash register who get credit cards. "When was the last time you got a credit card?" "The last time I had a shift at the cash register." This seemed to surprise them, and confirmed my suspicion that the fact that my name keeps getting left off the tally that they aren't crediting me for the cards that I do get. Then they try to tell me that they only schedule people at the register who are good at keeping busy when there are no customers. [What? I'm the one shooing other employees away from the cash wrap and standing at the nearby tables refolding items most of the time. I may zone out after a rush for a couple of minutes, but this doesn't happen enough to warrant such a stupid conclusion.] At this point I'm trying to interrupt them and just explain that I did not seek out someone to complain about my assignment, I was asked a question and I answered it. I reiterate that I understand that scheduling is a problem for them because of the budget and variety of employees' needs to fill, and it's not my intention to be a pain in the ass, but I am allowed to have an opinion. My main problem for the moment, I tell them, is that it has become physically difficult for me to keep up with the work in the fitting room. The floor is cheap veneer panelling over concrete, you stand in a 6-sq foot station and escort customers back and forth down the hallway to fitting rooms. On a busy day, I easily walk more than 15 miles in a 4 hour shift. I have a very limited number of shoes I can wear because their dress code prohibits sneakers AND "Fashion Sneakers", and the insoles that help are so bulky that they don't fit in a shoe that can't adjust across the top of my foot. Even with decent shoes and insoles, I'm a wreck after even a short shift. All the walking is wearing out the only decent pair of shoes I have left, and I'm trying to save them for the shifts I know I will do the most walking, so when I get a shift that says "Recovery", I mistakenly think I'm going to be standing around refolding things and wear shoes suited to that purpose. Because of that, and the lack of cushioned mats at the fitting room station (like the ones at the cash register and in the stockroom), a shift in the fitting room usually leaves me nearly unable to walk the next day. Naturally, trying to explain this is so fucking humiliating that I end up crying like a fucking idiot.
And of course today I still can't walk normally, the ball of my left foot in particular is so sore it feels like it ought to be swollen and purple.
And tomorrow I have to go back for another "recovery" shift. And I know exactly what that means. Fuckers.
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