12 July 2006

Not Just Beat; Beaten

What a day. I feel like poo. Grade D poo, not safe even for fertilizer use. I got into work just a little late, and my boss gives me crap about clocking in before putting my stuff away. As I am putting my stuff away, I mention that I didn’t hear her bemoan me making a $400 sale after I had punched out on Monday. Forty-two seconds after I punched in, I was ready for work. Good thing she wasted air on a snide comment, otherwise I couldn’t be so smugly superior when I made it to the little Useless Meeting we have just before we go to the killing floor four minutes before her.
So I find out during the UM that I must attend a “Credit Workshop” where I will learn to open more credit card accounts. Because the reason I have so few credit cards has nothing to do with the fact that people just don’t want more credit debt, or that the APR starts at 25%, or that most of the folks I help get only what they need and get it from the sale rack, or that (for some reason unbeknownst to me) I attract the foreign customers without US addresses. No, it is because I suck at the credit game, and a half hour on Saturday morning role-playing credit card pimping is going to improve that. From 9-9:30 I will be at work, being punished because I don’t try and force credit down a guy’s throat when he’s buying socks. Because I don’t offer a credit card to a customer I didn’t help. Because I want my customers to have a good experience with shopping, one that doesn’t feel like I am trying to get them something they don’t want or using them to further my own bullshit agenda at this store.
All day I was thinking about my punishment, mostly because it affects more than me. I have the Princess this month. And for me to be at work, I must leave her at eight. I get out of work at eight. She will be home, if the universe and the CTA are lined up with me sympathetically, for thirteen hours alone. I get to come home to a puddle of piss and a pile of shit and a puppy that can’t decide whether to be happy or ashamed. If that doesn’t inspire pity, let me add that I will have achy toes.

In the words of Aristotle: “Fuck retail.”

3 comments:

ginger said...

I feel your pain on Saturday, it's not retail, but I'll be on my feet from 9 am to 1 am with the last 7 hours or so in the cutest pair of black high heels. Working for a non for profit can be as much of a bitch.

And nowadays, I'm such a pretentious customer whenever I shop, especially at stores I used to work at. I know the service they demanded out me, so I expect the same. I know, I know, bitchy.

Zeepdoggie & GringO said...

You have it a little rougher; at least I can wear somewhat comfy shoes.

ginger said...

It may be a draw, even though I have a longer day and a very demanding boss who speaks in broken English when she gets frustrated, you my dear have to deal with, eck customers.