I solve problems

Shopping can be a great form of therapy for some people.

I know, at times, I can sound a little gruff about what I do for a living.  But, the truth of the matter is that I really enjoy what I do.  It can be very rewarding knowing that I have helped someone find that last minute item they need as a gift for their significant other.  Or, when Great Aunt Petunia comes in to get a wedding gift for her sweet nephew, Martin Q. Twinkledink, and is thrilled and delighted to know that she will be giving him exactly what makes him happy.  Yes, when I can help people like this, it truly is a rewarding experience.  People are happy and they feel as though a great weight has been lifted from them.  The therapy I provide by taking their money in exchange for goods and services is better than any Prozac that can prescribed by a doctor.  Truly, Shopping can be a great form a therapy.

But some people take that therapy too far.

Oh, come on, you didn't think I was going to spin a yarn that was all sunshine and lollipops coming out of my asshole did you?  No, there are plenty of people that feel like they're spending an hour on the couch telling me about al their life's problems that have led up to the moment when they walked into the store.  And, please God, I'd better have the item they need or they will turn on a dime and spit venom at me like I was the worst person since Hitler.  You know, if  Hitler sold wares and do-dads.

It's not their fault, however, sometimes it's just a case of something else going on in their lives.  I know that these people aren't mad at me, I just happen to be in front of them when the have decided to let go of everything. Often, people are having a problem with a situation and they haven't found a way to let go of it.  Then they come into my store and they find me.  I am the vessel that they can expel all of their frustration into and walk away feeling calmer because their trouble has been told to someone, anyone, besides the person with whom they are actually having the problem.  The following is one of those situations:


Him:  "Hey, I'm looking for that thing you had in your ad a couple of weeks ago."

Me: "Okay, which item was it?"

Him: "You know, it was on the second or third page."  Oh, that item, why didn't you say so.

Me: "Gonna have to narrow it down for me, sir."

Him: "I don't know, my wife wants it."  Of course, and since I read minds I know what it is.

Me: "Let's get a copy of the ad and we can look."

Him: (Looking at the ad): "That's it right there." Great, time for the bad news.

Me: "I'm sorry, sir, we've been sold out of that for about a week, but we'll be getting more next week."

Him: "Oh, come on! (he takes a huge breath and his catharsis begins)  My wife sent me here to get this thing for her and  couldn't get here last week because I had other things to do but I told her I would get it as soon as I could get there and I told her she should just go because I wasn't sure when that would be but she insisted I should go because I work closer to here than she does and she's always doing this to me and I hate going to these places because I never know where anything is and I never get the right thing and then she makes me bring it back and this just sucks it all goes back to this one time when I was supposed to get something and I got the wrong thing and she never lets me forget it so now she makes me get things for her all the time her makeup her tampons her everything I swear she just has it out for me ever since that one time and now I'm here and you don't have what I want and this just sucks!" (exhales)

Me:  ".....I'm sorry?" (for ever even having made eye contact with you)

Him: "Oh, it doesn't matter."  (really? because it sounded like it mattered a lot!) 

Me: "Are you sure?  I can check another store for you."

Him: "It's no problem I'll come back next week."

That was just an instance when someone needed to let someone anyone, know how frustrated he was at that moment.  Sad to say it was me, but, hey, I'm glad to help.  Because that's what  do; I solve problems.  I don't want to. t's not in the job description.  I don't get paid extra for it.  But, it'd what I do.

There are some occasions when people are feeling downright mean-spirited.  Those are people I don't want to help.  For whatever reason, they feel it is their duty to make someone feel bad or insecure so that they can feel better about themselves.  I don't ever want to help these people, but I do enjoy putting them in their place when I can.  The therapy these people get is a good dose of reality.

One such person tumbled into my store one night.  I as wearing a bright, pink shirt, and this character decided it would be enjoyable to poke fun at that.  As he asked me questions about new bedding, he threw in names like "cupcake" and "sweetie" all the time chuckling to the girl that was with him.  This went on for a little while until I decided to solve the problem in my own way:

Him:  "You know, cupcake, that's a nice pink shirt you're wearing."

Me:  "Yup."

Him:  "I was wondering, what kind of guy wears a pink shirt?  I mean what "guy" wears a pink shirt?"  (ok, time to solve the problem)

Me: "I don't know.  Maybe the kind of guy who helplessly watched his 26-year old wife die of breast cancer.  Yeah, that's the guy."

Him:  (recoiling in horror at what he had just heard) "Oh, man, I...I didn't know..."

Me:  "And that makes it ok.  So, let's find that bed you need."

Now, my wife is alive and well.  And, I don't wish to make light of the nightmare that is cancer.  However, where therapy is concerned, there are some unorthodox methods which must be employed.  Hey, I solve problems, but that still wasn't as bad as the woman who had a 3-year-old in her cart when I was putting some items on a shelf further down the aisle.

Kid: "What's he doing, mommy?"

Mother:  "He's stocking shelves."

Kid: "Why's he doing that?"

Mother:  "Because he didn't go to college."

I needed therapy after hearing that.



Sometimes, however, it's my employees who need therapy.  Truth be told, our job (like many others)  has it's own unique set of challenges and stress.  So when an employee comes to me and feels stressed, it is my job to help them through a rough situation.  I become a counselor, teacher, friend, comrade and protector all at once.  It's a role I'm very comfortable with, especially when it means my staff is happy.  When I can't help them is when they do something really, really, really dumb.

A new cashier was on her first shift on register.  After her shift, it was found hat she was $16 short.  A little research was done and it seemed that all of her cash transactions were for exact amounts.  What this means is the if the bill came to $45.67, she entered that the customer gave her $45.67 exactly.  This happened in several transactions.  Very odd.  First we went back over her training.  Check.  Training was completed and she passed.  Next comes the questioning.

Me:  "So, you had all the training and you did good at it, right?"

Her: "Yes."

Me:  "So, here's my question:  when you tendered for cash did you give back any change?"  (normally, you enter the amount the customer hands you and through the wonders of science, the register will tell you how much change they receive.  It's like magic.)

Her:  "Yeah, I gave back lots of change."

Me:  "Ok, but looking at your journal, every cash transaction was for an exact amount.  So, how did you give back change?"

Her:  (looking rather sheepish)  "Well, I'm not really that good at math, and I couldn't finds a calculator, soooo...."

Me: "Soooo...."

Her:  "So I asked the customer how much change they should get back."



I solve problems...I can't solve stupid.



Oh, You're 'That Customer'

I have met my fair share of people.

Those of you who follow me know my background.  I've been in the retail industry for a long time.  I've sold such an array of wares and do-dads that it hardly bears repeating.  I've dealt with all kinds of upset people.  I've dealt with a bevy stupid people.  I've had stellar employees.  I've had employees that I'd like to hold underwater until the bubbles stop.  I've seen a vast array of people come through my multitude of doors.  Yes, I have met my fair share of people.

There is, however, one group of people that never cease to amaze me.  Now, you might be trying to jump the gun and figure out the select group that I'm going to discuss. You've read my rants and followed my threads.  You think you know me pretty good.  So who is it?  Is it the huge group of old people that come into my stores?  No.  Is it people who demand discounts because they feel a sense of entitlement?  No.  Is it people who just want to be upset because life has been unfair to them and they want to take it out on me?  No.  No, this group of people is different.  This is a group of people who should know better.  This group of people are those who have already worked in the retail industry.

What's that?  You say, How could you be mad at people who have shared your pain?  I'll tell you how, because these are people that have been in my situation, complained about the same stupid customers I have, ranted to their friends about all the same struggles I have, but continue to be that customer that reaches deep into me and crushes my very hope for humanity.  Yes, even though they purport to be just like me and have suffered through my journey, they have become the very thing they have told everyone they don't like.

Twenty minutes past closing:

Her:  "Am I the last customer?  I'm sorry, I lost track of time."  Of course you did, we only made 2 closing announcements so far.

Me:  "No problem.  Are you ready to check out?"  This should actually be:  You ARE ready to check out.

Her:  "Yes, I'm sorry.  I hate to be 'that shopper' that keeps you here late.  I've worked in retail, too, I know what it's like."  And that makes it OK, right?

Me:  "That's ok miss, let's get you rung up."  Trying to maintain my fake smile is getting tough.

Her:  "You know, I just wanna pop over real quick to get one more thing.  I won't be long, like I said, I've worked in retail and I don't want to be 'that customer.' we always talk about"  Then why are you?


It's true, no one wants be 'that customer', but the reality of it is that you are being 'that customer' by doing the things you do.  If you truly were sympathetic for my plight, you would keep me way past my closing time.  So that you know, saying something like 'I've worked in retail too' is not a password gets you special privileges.  If anything, it gets you an even bigger dose of my anger because you should know better.  But, that is just a small example.  There is subset of those who have 'worked in retail'.  These are people who feel that they know all the ins ad outs of my business like they've worked here for fifty-odd years and can coerce me into making them a deal or doing something special because they've 'worked in retail.'


Trying to close a sale on a set of golf clubs:

Him:  "So listen,  I'd like to buy two sets of these clubs for each of my kids."

Me:  "Great, let me bring them up front for you."

Him:  "Wait a minute.  How much of a discount are you going to give me?"  Discount?  For what?  Are you a tourist?

Me:  "What discount are you asking about, sir?"

Him:  "Uh, I'm buying two sets, so I should get a discount for a bulk sale." 

Sidebar:  For those of you that don't know, once in a while a bulk discount is given when someone makes a special order for a large amount of a particular item.  However, this guy thought the word 'bulk' was very subjective and applied to two items.  My idea of 'bulk' would be no less that 50 items of this caliber.  Let's continue.

Me:  "I'm sorry, sir, a bulk discount would apply to a much larger quantity of the same item, not just two pieces."

Him:  "Don't give me that.  I've worked in retail, I know you can make a better deal than this."  Oh, you've worked in retail?  What'd you do bag groceries when you were fourteen?  It surely wasn't sales or you'd know what 'bulk' meant.

Me:  "Again, sir, there is no discount for buying two of the same item."

Him:  "I can't believe that!  When I worked retail we gave discounts all time to hard working people like me. It was called 'closing the sale.'  Now what are you going to do?"  What am I gonna do?  Probably laugh to myself that the retailer you worked for is probably out of business because they gave out discounts.

Me:  "Tell you what, I'll give you a free plastic bag to carry your other items home."  What am I gonna do?  Give you the sharp side of my tongue, that's what.


That brings us to the final subset of people who feel entitled because they have worked in retail.  These are people who haven't actually worked in the business, but know someone who has.  These are my favorites.  They have the entire industry summed up because they are married to, or related to or have met someone who has worked in retail.  Not that those people they know have done anything special.  They haven't created a career of more than twenty years in the industry.  They haven't worked ten hours days trying to satisfy people who can't be satisfied.  No, they could have been a cashier, or a grocery bagger, or a janitor, but they've 'worked in retail' so, therefore, what they have told their friend is the way things go.  I can't blame people for thinking they have an in simply because they know someone who has worked in my field.  Their friends have led them to believe that this is true.  And, those same friends have told them that if they raise a fuss they can get exactly what they want.  Those conversations usually go like this:

3 days before Christmas.  I get called to the front for a customer who wants to see a manager.

Her:  "I've been waiting for ten minutes to get some help."

Me:  "I'm sorry for the wait miss, what can I do for you?"

Her:  "My time is very valuable, and I've been waiting quite a while."  Waiting.  Got it.

Me:  "I'm sorry for the wait miss, what can I do for you?"

Her:  "I don't think you understand.  I've been waiting for some help!"  No, I understand, I just don't care.

Me:  "Again, I'm sorry miss.  It's very busy today, what can I do for you?"

Her:  "I can appreciate that you're busy because my husband..." fuck me, here it comes "...works in retail and his store would not make customers wait this long for help."  I'm sure your husband's store is much nicer than mine.  Why don't you go shop there?

Me:  "I apologize, miss.  It's very busy and I am here to help you now, so what can I do for you?"

Her:  "Do you have any extra flyers with the coupons in them?  I left mine at home."  On second thought, forget it.  Your husband doesn't want you at his store, either.




The one thing all of these people have is common is the fact that if they have worked in retail they should know better.  I would love to be presumptuous like most of these people and go to different businesses thinking I can something for nothing because I, too, have had some experience doing what they do.  Can you imagine that?   At a restaurant:  "I've cooked food before so make me something not on the menu and give me a discount on it."  At a movie theatre:  "I have a friend who lives in Hollywood so  should be able to get into the movie for free."  The fact of the matter is that people should know better.  If you've done what I've done, don't give me reason to hate you for doing all those things that make me insane.  Just be a regular, nice customer who has had some insight into my world and have a little empathy for what I do.  Don't be 'that customer'.  And, if you are going to be 'that customer'  don't tell me that you've 'worked in retail,' because if you really have, you really wouldn't.

You would know better.

...and the panic begns

Thanksgiving is a great time of year.

It s a great time to be together with family.  It is the perfect time to be grateful for all that we have.  It lets us reflect on everything around us.  We gather together.  We enjoy a wonderful meal.  We share laughs and stories.  We remember all those who have gone before us.  We look forward to the Christmas season and we prepare for holiday shopping in hopes of bringing joy to each other.  In short, it brings out the best in all of us. Yes, Thanksgiving is a great time of year.

But the couple days before it...oy!

You see, those couple days before the great holiday bring out all the panic stricken people who are preparing a great Thanksgiving feast but have left all the details until the last possible minute.  These people come stumbling into my store hoping, praying, that I will be able to solve all of their problems with a simple wave of my hand.  And the questions they have are fantastic.  Now, admittedly,  it is often men who come in at the last moment for purchases, but, to be fair, they are often sent in by their wives.  Some of the best questions come from husbands who don't know a roasting rack from a hat rack, and quite frankly, wouldn't know what to do with either.

Him:  "Can you help me, I need a tablecloth."

Me:  "Okay, what size?"

Him: (Blankly) "Ummmm...size..ummm..." I can almost read his mind: Size? Tables have sizes?

Me:  "It's ok, how many people sit at your table?"

Him: "What do you mean?" I thought that was easy, but guess not.

Me:  "I mean, when you sit at the table, how many people are there with you?"

Him:  "Oh, I get it.  Let's see one at each end and two on each side, so about 6 or 7."  Actually it's exactly 6 but I know that new math is tough.

Me:  "Ok, six.  You need a 60"x84" to cover your table.  Does your table have a leaf?"

Him:  Leaf?  Tables have leaves? "Ummm....leaf...ummm..."

Me:  "No problem, if you don't know you probably aren't going to use it."

Him:  "Are you sure?"

Me:  "I'm not sure since you haven't invited me to dinner."

Him:  "No, I mean about the size?  What if you're wrong?"

Me:  "Do you think I'm wrong?"

Him:  "Ummm..."

Me:  "Did your wife send you here for a tablecloth?"

Him:  "...yes... "

Me:  "Then get that one; go home and be happy.  Trust me."

Him:  "...okay..."


Sometimes, the stress of last minute buying can be too much for some people.  Often it is like a therapy session that they need to get out all of their frustration they've had up to the moment when they walked into the store.  And, please God, I have better have the item they need or they will turn on a dime and spit venom at me like I was the worst person since Hitler.  You know, if Hitler sold wares and do-dads.

It's not their fault, however, sometimes it's just a case of something else going on in their lives.  I know that these people aren't mad at me, I just happen to be in front of them when the have decided to let go of everything. Often, people are having a problem with a situation and they haven't found a way to let go of it.  Then they come into my store and they find me.  I am the vessel that they can expel all of their frustration into and walk away feeling calmer because their trouble has been told to someone, anyone, besides the person with whom they are actually having the problem.  The following is one of those situations:


Him:  "Hey, I'm looking for that thing you had in your ad a couple of weeks ago."

Me: "Okay, which item was it?"

Him: "You know, it was on the second or third page."  Oh, that item, why didn't you say so.

Me: "Gonna have to narrow it down for me, sir."

Him: "I don't know, my wife wants it."  Of course, and since I read minds I know what it is.

Me: "Let's get a copy of the ad and we can look."

Him: (Looking at the ad): "That's it right there." Great, time for the bad news.

Me: "I'm sorry, sir, we've been sold out of that for about a week, but we'll be getting more next week.  I guessing you probably needed it today."

Him: "Oh, come on! (he takes a huge breath and his catharsis begins)  My wife sent me here to get this thing for her and  couldn't get here last week because I had other things to do but I told her I would get it as soon as I could get there and I told her she should just go because I wasn't sure when that would be but she insisted I should go because I work closer to here than she does and she's always doing this to me and I hate going to these places because I never know where anything is and I never get the right thing and then she makes me bring it back and this just sucks it all goes back to this one time when I was supposed to get something and I got the wrong thing and she never lets me forget it so now she makes me get things for her all the time her makeup her tampons her everything I swear she just has it out for me ever since that one time and now I'm here and you don't have what I want and this just sucks!" (exhales)

Me:  ".....I'm sorry?" for ever even having made eye contact with you

Him: "Oh, it doesn't matter."  really? because it sounded like it mattered a lot! 

Him:  "No, I'll go somewhere else.  Thanks anyway."

Me:  "...you're welcome?"


But the best are just the random, bizarre questions that arise.  The kind of questions that truly are idiotic because fear and panic has wiped the mind clean of rational thought.  Those are the best.

Her:  "Which of these shades will fit my lamp?"

Me:  "Which lamp did you choose?"

Her:  "No, the one I have at home."

Me:  "Well, what does it take now a harp or a post."

Her:  "I don't know."

Me:  "I kinda need to know which kind so I can make a recommendation."

Her:  "It's a white one."  Oh, you should've led with that.



Or this one:

Her:  "I need a cooker for my turkey."  Roasting pan/cooker...whatever

Me:  "Great, what size turkey?"

Her:  "I haven't bought it yet."

Me:  "No problem, what size are you thinking of getting?"

Her:  "A big one."  You're right, big is a size.

Me:  "I meant how many pounds."

Her:  "I don't know...maybe...35."

Me:  "Ok, well, I have some large roasters that can accommodate that."  (I show her the pans)

Her:  "And this whole thing fits in the microwave?"

....oh, we have some work to do

and the truth shall set you free...

From a very early age, we are told to always tell the truth.  We learn from our family, our schooling, our faith, our society; telling the truth is the right thing to do.  I understand that a small, dishonest statement to save someone's feelings is sometimes in order.  Let's face it, there is no honest answer for: "Does this make me look fat?" Overall, however, honesty is the best policy.  But, sometimes, just sometimes, people just decide not to tell the truth.  Do you know who those people are? 

People who want to return something.

Not everyone, mind you.  No, just the assholes who are done using something and have decided to return it for a full refund because they are done with it.  Now, I'm not talking about the people who have no receipt and are trying to find a way to get an exchange for an item I don't sell because they think they are entitled to one.  Nor am I talking about the people who just stole something off my sales floor and are trying to return it like they bought it honestly.  No, those two groups of fucktards are way different than the liars I'm talking of.  The people I have in mind have their receipt, have the box, have even repackaged the product.  However, instead of saying that they just don't want their glorious purchase, or admitting they have buyer's remorse, they feel compelled to make up some bullshit story about why they need to return it.  Or, better yet, that they never even used it!  Let's start with this one:

Her:  "I need to return this coffeemaker."

Me:  "Ok, miss, is there anything wrong with it?"

Her:  "No, I never even opened it."

Me:  "You didn't open it?"  Noticing the box clearly has been opened.

Her:  "No, see, here's my receipt."  She starts to get anxious...this'll be fun.

Me:  "No problem, miss, I just need to check it."

Her:  "For what? I told you I didn't even open it."  She gets a little more nervous.

Me:  "I just need to make sure everything is correct. You understand don't you?"  I start to open the box.

Her:  "No, I don't understand.  I told you I DIDN'T open it!"  Right about now she's acting like the guy in the movie MIDNIGHT EXPRESS just before they find the dope on him.

And this is why:  As I open the box, there is still coffee residue in the carafe and the box completely reeks of coffee.  Not to mention it's wet.

Me:  "Oh, I'm sorry miss, this appears to have been used." 

Her:  "What?  Oh, my husband must've used it without telling me!"  Of course he did.


You know what would have made this transaction a lot easier?  Telling the truth.  I mean, if she had just come up the counter and said, "I don't like this, can I have my money back?"  I wouldn't have even batted an eyelash.  I seriously do not care if or why you want to return something.  I do care that you think I'm an idiot who won't see through your thinly-veiled attempt to make me think it is somehow my fault that you no longer want your item. 

It's bad enough that people feel they need to lie about something they want to return, but it is downright deplorable the stories they make up so that they can get a discount.  There are all kinds of legitimate ways to get a discount.  Coupons are the easiest.  Lots of people clip coupons and use them to save a little scratch.  Little effort; big reward.  Think about it, knowing how to use a pair of scissors (real scissors, mind you, not those left handed fuckers with the green plastic on them) can keep money in your pocket.  Shopping for items on sale is another great way to save some money.  Forget scissors, the only skill you need to accomplish this is knowing how to read.

But, there is a large group of people who frequent retail establishments who neither have the wherewithal to read or the manual dexterity to clip coupons.  No, their great skill is being a total asshole and just asking you for money off a regular priced item.  I'm not talking about the people who want to offer you two live chickens and some bits of string in exchange for goods and services.  No, those people are different.  I'm talking about the people who want to lie to you and hope that you believe their bullshit story so that they can get a huge discount on their purchase.  I like to call these people "the discounters" because I like to discount their story (see what I did there?).  There are many retailers who offer discounts.  Senior citizen discounts, military discounts, student discounts, club member discounts, the list goes on and on.  The discounters, however, do not qualify for any regularly advertised discount.  Instead, they make up a discount and expect you to adhere to it because why shouldn't I drop the price by 80% just because you say so.  I have heard people ask for lots of discounts in my day, but I will tell you about the three best, ever.


1.  I have cancer.

Her:  "Hi, I know this is awkward, but I have stage 3 cancer and my medicine is very expensive, so is there any way I could get a discount on my purchase?"

Okay, pull at the heartstring.  I get it.  And, I might have been inclined to acquiesces and give her a discount if she hadn't been buying a set of golf clubs and balls, three new designer golf shirts and various other items.  It takes some serious stones to make up something like that

Me:  "Unfortunately, ma'am, I don't offer a discount like that."  I can tell that isn't going to go over well.

Her:  "Well, I wanted to get some things for my husband, but I guess I won't now!"  Yeah, I'm sure your husband would've loved the new ladies Under Armor shirts, I hear they support the bust pretty well.

I know what you're thinking:  how do you know she was lying?  I don't.  But based on the evidence given to me, I'm going with that it was a lie.  Besides, I hope to God that someone with stage 3 cancer would have more morals than to ask for a discount on her new golf clubs.



2.  I'm a tourist.

Him:  "Hi, I'm traveling from outside the country and I'd like my tourist discount please."

What in the fuck is a tourist discount?

Me:  ?

This one actually happened to a coworker of mine.  She very politely told him that we don't offer a military discount to our own citizens, so why would we offer a tourist discount to someone from abroad?  I'll just go back to the above statement:

What in the fuck is a tourist discount?



And, finally, we come to the best one of all.  This one is 100% true and I have a witness to it.  So get ready for:

3.  I'm retarded.

Her:  "I need a scale, but they cost so much.  Which are the cheapest?"

Me:  "Well, I have several that start at $20."

Her:  "Do you have any for around $5?"

Me:  "Unfortunately, I don't.  The least expensive ones that I have are $20."

Her:  "Well, could I get one for $5 because I don't have much money and I have the mental retardation."

Yup, you read it.  THE MENTAL RETARDATION.  That's exactly what she called it and she was very sincere.

Me:  "I'm sorry miss, I can't give a discount for something like that."  I really wasn't sure what to say.

Her:  "Are you sure, because I have the mental retardation."  Again with that phrase.  At that moment one of my associates came by and I quickly pitched the customer to her.

Me:  "I'm sure but Julie here will be happy to help you find one of the scales I spoke about."  Julie had heard the conversation and looked at me like I just stuck a needle in her eye.  Luckily, the customer decided to leave on a high note.

Her:  "That's ok, thank you anyway.  God bless.  GOD BLESS YOU!"


God has truly blessed me.

God gave me a job in retail.

This ain't Chuk E Cheese you know

You should never bring a kid shopping.

Let me clarify this: you should never bring a kid shopping if either your kid or yourself is an asshole.  By, "asshole kid", I mean the kind of kid that runs around my store screaming that they want something, need something, have to pee, or just plain scream.  And, by default, if you have an "asshole kid", you are usually an "asshole parent".  That is the parent who ignores asshole kid while they yell and scream and knock down expensive items causing them to crash to the ground.  To make things easier, we will, heretofore, refer to these two groups as AK and AP. 

We all know who the AK is right?  It's the kid that is constantly away from their parent,  yelling, screaming, and knocking stuff down.  They pick up product and drop it to the floor.  They open packages like they own them.  They spill their little snack or drink cup all over the place.  They climb all over the fixtures.  If there are two of them together (please, God, no) they play hide and seek all throughout the store.  They annoy other customers by being precocious and feeling the need to talk to them and ask them questions like they're long lost friends.  Have I missed anything?  You get the idea.  I understand if this sounds harsh, but I have seen way too much of this in my years as a retailer.  And, please, don't get offended if your kid has run around yelling and screaming and I look at you with disdain.  I know that all kids can be unruly at one time or another.  I have sympathy that for the fact that, once in a while, kids get out of hand.  Hey, shit happens.  That doesn't, necessarily, put you in the AP category.  No, you hit the AP category when you ALLOW your AK to run, scream, throw, break, destroy, rape and pillage my store, all while you continue to shop as though they weren't there. 

Do you know what will put you higher on the AP list?  Losing your child in my store and blaming them when they can't find you.  They're children for Christsake, it's your job to watch them not theirs.  It sure as hell isn't mine.  I have worked in a multitude of different retail establishments and a child has gotten lost in almost every one of them.  The majority of parents are really concerned when a child is lost.  It is a very scary situation.  But guess who isn't all that concerned.  That's right, the AP.  They let their kid wander away in a 52,000 square foot store and have no clue or care where they are.  Most of these kids are young (under 6).  Why not just put a sign on them that says "steal me"?  These are the kids who, eventually, can't find their AP and get scared.  Often, another customer will find them and flag me down.  It then becomes my responsibility to find the AP.  Often the response goes like this:

AP:  "I told you not to wander away."

Kid:  (Begins to cry) "I'm sorry."

AP:  "You should be, what if someone had taken you?  Now stop crying, Mommy wants to look at new yoga pants."

Really??!  That's your takeaway from this?  It's the kid's fault that you're a neglectful pile of amphibian shit.  Great life lesson for the kid:  Just ignore your responsibilities and when someone else takes charge pass the blame so that you look like the hero.  Overall, however, the AP and the AK are two separate entities.  It's when the AP has an AK in tow that the real trouble can start.  You see, an AK can be unruly and troublesome, but when they have an AP this is a pair that can beat a full house any day.  It usually starts with the AK taking off and running through the store knocking things down.  Then, the AK manages to get out of eyeshot from the AP.  The AP then continues shopping, but shouts the name of the AK to come back, even though the AK has no intention of returning, and the AP could give a fuck if he does.  The two of them just continue to shout and scream and shout and scream and shout and scream.

On the other hand, I could take the shouting and screaming.  I could put up with the broken product and almost-missing child.  I could get over all of it, as long as there were no....bodily function malfunctions.  You see, if have been in several situations where an AP has an AK who has just juiced up on three cans of Mountain Dew and a giant-sized Kit Kat bar, when they realize that they need to pee.  The kid will start jumping around and making all kinds of noise about needing a bathroom before the AP decides to acknowledge it.  The response usually comes like this:

AP:  (continuing to shop)  "Do you need the bathroom?"

AK:  "YYYYEEEESSS!!!!"

AP:  "Well can you wait until we come around this aisle, I just want to look at something."

MOTHERFUCKER!  This kid is about to wet his pants and you want to continue to shop.  Take him to the Goddamn bathroom, I assure you the same stuff will be here when you get out.  But, no, you continue to shop and little Johnny sonofabitch pisses himself right in the middle of my store.  Now, not only do we have to clean the store, we have to clean up pee.  Thank you, thank you so much.

But that is still not the bottom of the abyss of neglectful parenting.  No, I have one more delightful anecdote to relay to you.  It will never cease to amaze me that, sometimes, people confuse a dressing room with a toilet.  I understand that we all have to go, but really, in a dressing room?  And, I'm not talking about pee.  No sir, that would be too easy.  Yes, people (I am assuming children because the alternative is just painful) have pooped in a dressing room in my store.  This has happened three times in my career.  Three times too many by my count.  And, I don't understand what people were thinking.  I mean, when you sat on that little bench, there was no hole in it.  Where did you think the poop was going to go?  I understand the two dogpiles I have found in the corner, but on the bench?  That is just too much for me. 

So if you're an AP, don't bring your kid shopping.  If you have an AK, please leave them at home.  If you are the AP of an AK, stay way the fuck out of my store.  And, if you have to poop, find a toilet, not a dressing room.

That is all...

Can you break a $50?

I like money.

I like all kinds of money.  I feel good when people give me their money in exchange for goods and services.  I am a tried and true capitalist.  I believe in free enterprise.  I am filled with a sense of joy when someone comes to our great country from abroad and starts a business here so that they can make money.  Money, when used properly, is a wonderful thing.

Yes, I like money.

Which is why the following little story is going to give me great pain when I relate it to you.  Not that long ago, I was forced to shy away from money.  Not because it was ill-gotten.  No, the transaction was completely legitimate.  Not because it was counterfeit.  No, this money was on the up and up.  Not because it was foreign.  Not because it was torn.  Not because of any reason except one...its origin.

It was very warm the other day, and it was even warmer in my store.  Being late Spring here in New England, many of us are quite happy to see and feel warmer weather.  And, being in New England, and although it was probably only 70 degrees, people were dressed like it was August 23rd at noon.  One such woman approached my register to make a purchase.  She was wearing VERY tight, white pants.  You know the kind.  Not the pair that took six men and a smaller dog to squeeze her into them.  Not the pair that she jumped off the bureau and hoped they made the proper alignment on the way down.  No, this was the pair of pants that were applied with a thin layer of spray paint.  To compliment this lovely pair of pedal pushers, she had on a sky blue, button down, halter top/half-shirt thing with a with very few buttons and even less of them fastened.  I'm not sure if the fabric top was two sizes too small, or her top was two sizes too big, but the only thing keeping that shirt together was sheer will and shortened breathing.  She put her purchase on the counter and I proceeded to ring her out.  Once completed, I read her the total:

Me: "That'll be $8.47, please."

She never said a word.  She had no purse.  She had nothing in her hand but a phone.  When suddenly, she realized that she had to pay for this.  Silly rabbit, you need to provide money in exchange for goods and services.  Maybe she was too constricted from her pants and shirt and little blood was reaching her brain, but she flashed an awkward smile and began to look for money.  She quickly felt the outside of her pants.  Nothing.  She felt the back of her pants.  Nothing.  Then it dawned on her.  Reaching her right hand up to the front of her blouse, she stuck her hand inside her shirt, reached under her left boob and proceeded to pull out a very folded twenty dollar bill.  Now, I know it was under her left boob, because she had to use her left hand to lift it up a little to give the right access to her "wallet".  Holding the bill in front of me, she says the following:

Her:  "Sorry, I don't have any change."

Before we go any further, I'd like to clarify a few things.  First, I like money.  I like money a lot.  I like money a real lot.  Second, I like boobs.  I like boobs a lot.  I like boobs a real lot.  Third, I have always believed that two great pairs that go great together should always be enjoyed.  For example:  chocolate and peanut butter, peanut butter and jelly, jelly and donuts, donuts and coffee, coffee and cream, cream and cookies, cookies and milk, milk and cereal, cereal and breakfast, breakfast and bed, bed and bath, bath and bubbles, Bubbles and Boomer, the list goes on and on.  But, you know what's not on that list?  SWEATY BOOBS AND PAPER MONEY!  I mean, come on!  Your left tit is not a pocketbook.  God knows what kind of bacteria is fermenting under that thing in the heat.  Not to mention that money is one of the dirtiest substances known to man.  Everybody and their brother has touched it.  Not only that, but paper is made from cotton which absorbs, oh, I don't know...EVERYTHING!  And here she is, holding it in front of me, with a cute little smile like she's doing me this huge favor offering me a tit-sweat soaked twenty dollar bill to pay for her wares.  Is there anything else you'd like to give me?  Hepatitis perhaps?

Now comes the ugly part.  I have to take this money from her hand and act like everything is cool.  I put my hand out flat for her to drop the bill into.  She does.  EWWWW...IT'S WET.  I unfold it to put it in my drawer so that it can contaminate the rest of the money I have collected so far.  I count back her change to her wondering if she's going to put it back where she retrieved the twenty from.  She dropped it all in the bag with her purchase and left the store.  As quick as I could, I got the hand sanitizer out and tried to disinfect as best as possible.  And, as I washed and tried to move on with my day, I reflected on what she said and thanked my lucky stars I didn't know the answer to the question:

Where would she have kept any change?

For more options, press "7"

No one should be without a cell phone.

They fulfill  a definite need in case of an emergency.  They help keep us in contact with friends and families.  They serve as a diversion and keep us entertained.  Yes, no one should be without a cell phone.

Unless, of course, you're some asshole who doesn't know when to hang up and speak to the people who are actually with you.  You know the people I mean.  You see them at a restaurant talking on the phone while the person they are with sits in silence.  They are the people who are texting at the movies instead of enjoying what is on the screen. 

And they are all over my store. 

These are the people who come to the checkout and refuse to hang up the phone, or, at the very least, stop the conversation.  Nope, just continue to be rude.  Keep on talking to Sally-Sue Sonofabitch there, because, you know, I am practically invisible and meaningless to you.  And, by all means, get offended when I talk louder to try and elicit a response from you. 

A woman comes up to the register with three items and a very loud conversation on her phone.  Understanding that her conversation is much more important to her than her interaction with me, I begin the checkout process.  Being good at what I do, it is over very quickly.  The conversation on the phone continues.  That's when this begins:

Me:  "Your total is $21.57."

Her: (to the phone) "...so I told her...blah, blah, blah,...green curtains...blah, blah, blah,...lady things..."

Me: (a little louder) "Your total is $21.57."

Her: "...she's such a bitch...blah, blah, blah,...those are totally fake...blah, blah, blah..."

Me:  (clearing my throat for dramatic effect) "Miss, your total is $21.57."

Her: (to the phone) "...hang on I'm at the checkout." She stops and looks at me blankly

Me: "Your total is $21.57."

Her: "Oh, I didn't want those two things, just this."  (she goes back to her phone) "Yeah, I'm at the checkout, the guy totally wasn't paying attention and rung everything up."


Of course it's my fault, I mean, who else would be to blame?  Here's an idea, HANG UP!  Or, if you don't want to hang up, just tell them to hang on for a minute.  Could we just go back to manners for a moment and acknowledge the person with whom we are dealing?  I know that there are many people in your life who are much more important than I am, but, please, just give me a little bit of credit that I am worth a few, precious moments of your time.  I don't want to have a conversation with you.  I just want to complete my transaction and move on with my life.  I would, however, like those few moments to be nice. 

Let me just take a moment to say that there are plenty of people who stop their conversation appropriately.  There are those who understand what manners are.  The average person knows when they are about to be rude and they counter act that instance by pausing their conversation to deal with the person in front of them.  But this is not about those people.  No, it is about the 1% who are self-absorbed assholes.  The people that have that speaker thing in their ear and walk around my store talking out loud so that everyone can see they're having a conversation with someone and we weren't invited.  Oh, yes, we hear you closing that big business deal in your loudest voice possible.  "YOU TELL THEM $2MILLION OR WE WALK!"  Wonder what the person on the other end of the line would say if they knew you were picking up a sale priced can of Pringles, big spender?  But there are some people that do this not for our edification, but clearly because they just don't have a clue.

A woman is walking around my store, talking to her phone, clearly agitated,  when I hear the following:

Her:  "I can never find any help here.  You think someone would help."

Like a superhero I speed over to her.  Her back is still to me when I approach.

Me:  "Pardon me miss, do you need some help?"

Her: (still to the phone) "...seriously, there's no one in here to help."

Maybe she didn't hear me.  I get into her line of sight.

Me:  "Miss, did you need some help finding something?"

She looks me right in the face, holds up one finger and (swear to God) says:

"I'm on the phone. (back to the phone) I'm going to have to go up front and ask."



I'll wait, she'll be back...