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.
