Your Retail Therapy Is Not My Therapy

Christmas is here and the joyous and merry people are nowhere to be found. Where they at though? And can they come to my store because everyone else seems to suck all the light from my life. On the daily.

I’ve had people tell me horror stories from working retail which is why I always made sure to be EXTREMELY nice to the people who serve me, ring me up, or whatever. I enjoy my food without a stranger’s spit in it, and I’d like it if nobody dropped my merchandise on the floor first before giving it to me. You know. Treat others the way you’d like, or your stuff, would like to be treated. Simple as that, no?

I put a brave face on before I walk into that building because I know I’m being watched, but the way I see my coworkers texting down the aisle, ignoring trash on the ground, I start doubting that anyone cares. That lack of detail combined with the asshattery of the majority of customers is what makes retail not fun. You’re always alone. Asking a coworker for help seems like a forbidden thing and they will not hesitate to say no. Because they’re busy. Doing. Nothing. Like how did my store manage to hire the most selfish people for the season? People who are dropping f-bombs in front of customers and listening to their headphones while roaming the floor. Like are you serious? What kind of zoo are we working in? No, excuse me, I take that back, zoos at least have order. Yeah, it requires cages and timed feedings, but maybe that’s what these animals I work with need.

And the coupons. MY GOODNESS, people love their coupons! They’ll wheel and deal just to get special promos, and then when those don’t work, naturally they’ll blame me. If you could see the transformation from apathy to downright righteous anger, your head would spin. Because the golden ticket came from their holy hands, it must work and I must be wrong. Duh. Don’t get mad at me if your coupons don’t work because you were unable to read the list of exclusions on the back of it. If you can’t muster the funds to buy your kid all that North Face and Nike stuff without a discount, maybe you shouldn’t be buying it.

When I greet you, please only refer to me by my name, which is Diane, not “Can I get any discounts?” That would have been an obnoxious birth certificate to fill out and thankfully my mother loves me more than that.

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Trying to kill you with my mind

If you want to know what a boxed item looks like, look at the handy photo provided on the actual box. Don’t open the box. Don’t remove any of the Styrofoam holders from the box. Don’t–

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Seriously? Where the hell is Loss Prevention? Do better.

When I tell someone their total even after coupons and they still freak out at the price

This my sympathy face.

This my sympathy face they taught me in training.

But I’m thankful for those occasional customers who ask me how my day is going. Who ask me how I’m doing and hope nobody has been too mean to me. When they ask, I can actually respond that my day is going alright and that I’m well. For the sake of me and humanity, be like that and respect your retail workers this holiday season (and always). Or I’ll hate you forever.

(Merry Christmas. If you see a retail worker with a frown on their face, tell them they’re doing a good job. Even if they’re just standing around like a boob.)

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