My Job

Let's pretend that I work for a high end children's clothing store. I don't, but due to a confidentiality agreement I signed five years ago, when I began working there, I can't actually discuss the nature of my business. It is retail, and it is high end. We'll leave it at that.

It is now three days before Christmas and people are beginning to get crazy. These are the people that have waited until now to do their Christmas shopping. Over the course of my employment, I have ruined numerous Christmases, destroyed children's belief in Santa, and dealt with many angry customers.

This year, I came up with a new rule for myself. If people don't harass my sales people and are able to speak kindly to me and give me a rational reason for me to go above and beyond for them, I will. I do not tolerate shouting or threats of "never shopping here again" or "calling corporate." I don't care if people want to speak to my manager, or the store manager, or God, for that matter. I know what I can and cannot do, and I will from time to time make an exception.

Let's pretend that a little girl got our catalogue in August, and another in October. Inside, there are beautiful pictures of all of the beautiful things that we sell in our store and on the internet. The little girl circles the things she likes, hands the catalogue to her mom and dad, and writes a list to Santa.

Most rational parents purchase these items in a reasonable time frame. They get the things they want and hide them in the closet. On Christmas morning, the little girl opens the gifts she circled in the beautiful catalogue.

Other parents wait until the internet tells them that we've sold out of the "red sweater." Then they drive to the store, pay $30 for parking and are shocked when we don't have that red sweater. They should have called first.

Sometimes, they'll see an item on display, like a lovely pair of "brown shoes," with a display sign that says, "Temporarily out of Brown Shoes." They'll want to buy the display. Unfortunately, the item is shop-worn and already purchased... by our store.

There are certain deals the store gives, like if you buy an orange sweater, you get a pair of orange socks for $5 less than if you had bought them separately. However, this deal is ONLY on orange socks and orange sweaters, or green socks and green sweaters. If we're out of orange socks, we can't give you the deal on an orange sweater and a pair of green socks. It's just not how we work. Sorry. There's one specific thing we type into our cash registers to get that deal.

Today I dealt with the following issues: someone wanted green socks with the orange sweater. I said no. They shouted, and I apologized. She told me I wasn't sorry enough. I told her we run out of a lot of things this time of year. She asked me what the number was of "someone higher." I told her the 1-800 number at the top of the receipt would connect her with customer service. Don't shout at me. Raising your voice won't get you what you want. And I have enough experience dealing with crazies like you that it really doesn't phaze me anymore.

Another customer wanted the orange sweater/sock deal, but wanted the one from the display. I calmly explained that we couldn't sell the socks from the display, but we could call them when the socks came back in stock. They understood and accepted the fact that eventually, they would get taken care of.

Another customer was disappointed because we were out of a "white jacket" AND the "yellow dress," she was really striking out here. She wanted to buy the display and I explained that we couldn't sell it for the reasons stated above. However, I called the customer service manager, and she thought we probably had a yellow dress in her office in the "secret stash." Well, we didn't. But our on hand inventory was showing 6 white jackets. I searched high and low for those jackets. No luck. Eventually, it came out that the white jackets were going on backorder, and wouldn't be available for weeks to come. Bless the visual merchandisers (who make our displays). They saw the defeated look in my eyes and gave me a display to sell. No discount. Trust me when I tell you that the woman wasn't grateful enough for the hoops I had to jump through for her.

I'll tell you now that I'm in management, but I'm not a manager. I'm a pseudo-assistant manager. I'm not salaried, nor do I get the special perks that actual managers get. I have the same duties and responsibilities, but I'm not a "manager."

Today was the annual manager luncheon. Which meant that I was left alone on my level of the store for two hours to deal with all the crazies. There were calls to every department of my level constantly.

It wasn't a great day for me. I'm not going to lie. I pretty much hate every asshole parent who came in today and bitched at me. I don't give a shit that your child's Christmas will be ruined. It's your own damn fault. Get a fucking grip. It's a fucking oxford shirt... they'll live. And no. We don't give discounts. Asshole.