Dear Customers

When you come into my store and notice that I am the only employee working and I am behind the counter ringing up a customer and there are a few other customers in line please, please; DO NOT COME UP TO THE COUNTER, IRRITATED AND ASK ME IN A CONDESCENDING TONE IF YOU CAN "PLEASE GET SOME HELP OVER HERE".

I am only one person. I have only two arms and two legs and one mouth and one brain. I cannot defy the laws of science and be in two separate places at the same time. It's not that your needs are less important than any other customer it's just that they were there first and I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF RINGING UP A TRANSACTION. You are not so important that I am going to leave my register and my current customer to run to a different part of the store to answer your question that you could probably figure out for yourself if you had one iota of common sense.

And please for the love of god, don't get irritated with me when I tell you that I will be right there as soon as I am able. Don't roll your eyes and deep sigh like I am completely putting you out. It's not a personal thing. I AM JUST DOING MY JOB. When I politely inform you of that and tell you it may be a moment before I can help you I am neither being bitchy, unhelpful or inattentive.

What is it about you that compels you to need me to literally hold your hand while picking out shampoo? If the store is too complex for you perhaps you should go to Walgreens or Target where I know for a fact that you will be hard pressed to find an employee that has the knowledge about beauty products that I have and/or is required to walk you through the process of picking some out. I am doing you a service. I work in customer SERVICE. You are not doing me a favor by shopping in my store. It is corporately owned. I don't really benefit from your purchase. I certainly don't benefit enough from it to have to deal with your negativity towards me. It's SHAMPOO or a NAIL FILE or a BRUSH, figure it out. Five minutes of me helping someone else isn't going to kill you. If you are in a hurry and on your lunch break that is not my responsibility.

I don't sit around waiting for you to come in so I can be your personal shopper.

Stop being so mean and self centered. I am a person too. Just like you. Please try to remember that.

I am the master of the universe

I got into an argument (surprise) with another customer today. She came into the store to purchase some hair glue. Now a small bottle of hair glue costs less than 2 dollars, ($1.79 to be exact). Now, if you want an even better deal you can purchase a larger bottle of hair glue (almost 3 times the size) for about $3.99. Let's do the math here. If one bottle is about an ounce and costs roughly 2 dollars with tax but 3 ounces cost a little over 4 dollars with tax this works out to be a better buy. Right? Am I right here? I mean I know I am no Rain Man or anything but I can perform basic multiplication and division. Anyway, I digress.

The issue, this lovely woman had with me was that the last time she bought hair glue she only paid .99 cents for it. Granted, she did not purchase it from my store, which I kindly pointed out but she was right in saying that our price was higher. We had in fact just raised the prices on almost everything in the store ranging from .10 cents to about 2 dollars depending on the item. (The hair glue price was raised .10 cents by the way.) Now when I say "we" raised the prices what I mean is that the corporation that owns the store raised the prices on all the products in the store. Why did this happen? Well a few things come to mind; inflation, the economy, maybe because that's just how business fucking works, sometimes prices go up, sometimes they go down, knowing the reason for our price changes is not in my job description. I just put up the new price tags like I am told and go about my merry way. Other than occasionally (ok always) wondering why higher prices on our products doesn't mean more money for me there really isn't much thought that goes into my laborious task of changing the price tags on all 200,000 products in the store.

Apparently though, this is my problem, a least according to this customer. According to this customer, I all of my own accord woke up that morning and decided that nothing would make me happier than to raise the price on all the items in the store that (and yes this is a direct quote) "black people have to buy."

...

It took me a moment to realize what she was insinuating. Because I guess she really wasn't insinuating anything, she was directly and very clearly accusing me of being so racist that I decided on a random Tuesday to raise prices on "black people" products because I knew they "needed to buy their hair glue therefore they would be forced to purchase it at a higher price."

What do I even say to that?

"Yes ma'am, you are right. Although my plan has clearly backfired because now I am going to have to pay my slaves more so they can afford the glue they need for their weaves."

To be honest I wasn't offended that she was calling me racist. I am becoming immune to that as it happens oh at least five times a day. I wasn't offended that she wanted to yell at me and take out her frustration about her apparent money problems, hey everyone needs to vent sometimes right? What offended me the most is that she assumed that because I am white the increased prices on hair glue don't affect me at all. Who is she to say that just because I am a white girl I don't need to get my hair done too. I really hate being stereotyped like that.

Awesome Questions Vol. 3

"Excuse me, do you work here?"

No. I just combine my love of Johnny Cash and this place by wearing all black all the time along with this very comfortable polyester smock that bears the company's name on it. Oh, I also have no friends and worry that people won't remember my name so I wear a name tag too and walk around asking shoppers if I can help them with anything.

Phone call

"Yes, where are you located?"

(To protect myself from further irritating customers I won't divulge the address here but I did tell that customer)

"Well, how do I get there?"

"Where are you coming from?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what street are you on?"

"I am not sure."

"I really don't know how to give you directions then."

"Oh, well could you stay open until I get there?"

I suppose that depends on whether or not you are coming from the next town or Alaska and since neither of us has any idea where the hell you are I am really not sure how to answer that question.

"I am looking for shampoo, do you sell that here?"

No, the giant wall of shampoo you are standing in front of are actually bottles filled with syrup.

Sorry to mislead you.

"Yes, we do in fact it is right here."

"Well I am looking for a really good one."

"Is there any particular benefits you would like it to have?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well we have moisturizing shampoo, volumizing shampoo, shampoo that protects your hair color, shampoo that enhances curl, fights frizz, smooths that hair..."

"I just want a good one."

Let's fast forward a bit, I showed her 12 different shampoos. None of them were "good" ones. Mostly because none of them were under two dollars. Mostly because she had no idea what she meant by a "good" shampoo. Mostly because the retail gods hate me.

"So how much developer do I need to mix with this hair color?"

"2 ounces."

"So how do I know how much that is?"

"Well, on this bottle that you are buying to mix the color and developer in there are markings on the side that go from 1 ounce to 8 ounces, all you need to do is pour the developer into the bottle up to the line that says 2 ounces. Then pour all of the color into the bottle and mix it together."

Pointing to the line on the bottle that indicates an ounce and a half "So I should pour it in to right about here?"

"No, you need to pour it up to the line that is marked 2 ounces."

"Oh. So then how much color do I put in?"

"The entire bottle."

"Oh...Do you have a card or something in case I have questions about how to do this when I get home?"

"Well our number is posted on the receipt and I will be here until 9:00 in case you have any questions. I will also write down the instructions for you so that you can refer to them."

"Ok."

Guess who called about 2 hours later wondering how much developer she should pour into the bottle and how would she know what 2 ounces was. Some days I am surprised I can stay sober without shooting myself.

The best question that I get asked about 10 times a day is "What is my total?"

You would think this is a normal non irritating question as I work in retail. What makes it so awesome is that they ask the question immediately after setting their products on the counter before I have even started ringing them up. Seriously who does that? Why, WHY do you ask me that when I clearly have not even started the transaction? Is it meant to be a compliment? Are you implying that I am so intelligent that I can automatically scan all 17 of your items and calculate how much you are going to need to pay including tax and coupons? Or are you just completely oblivious to reality? And rude? And annoying?

Puppies for sale?

A woman came into the store recently aqquiring where we had moved our collection of children's shoes.

"I'm sorry ma'am, we don't carry children's shoes here, perhaps you could try the shoe store 2 doors down."

"No, no" she shook her head adamantly, " I bought children's shoes here last year, right here by the front counter and I am wondering where you moved them."

"Well, I have worked here for 2 years and in my time and the previous 10 years that I have shopped here we have never sold children's foot wear of any kind."

She contemplated this for a moment.

"No, you definitely had them right up here by the front counter along with a selection of kid's watches."

"Like wrist watches?"

"Yes, you had an entire section of kid's shoes and wrist watches right here, at the front, and I would like to know where you moved them."

"Ma'am, I do apologize but we have never carried children's shoes or watches. Perhaps you are thinking about a different store."

"You just don't want to sell them too me. I would like to know where they are."

I tried to count backwards from ten, to center myself and see this woman for what she really was deep inside. Just a human, like myself, needing my assistance. I offered a silent prayer of compassion and patience towards this woman.

I failed.

"Oh, you mean kid's shoes? That's right, I have those all hidden in the secret vault in the back for when you come in, I can go grab those right now if you'd like."

"Are they still $9.99?"

Is this woman serious? She can't be. She must be fucking with me.

"You know, I believe the price may have gone up but I tell you what, how about I throw in a free puppy to make up for it."

"Ok, I will wait, you go check."

I am not sure how long she waited out there before she realized I wasn't coming back.

In 2005 my mother came to me and told me that she was going to become a "living donor". I had no idea what that meant. I soon learned.

What that mean was that my mom was going to donate one of her completely functioning working organs to a complete stranger that needed it.

In all honesty I wasn't sure whether I should laugh or cry.

For those of you who haven't met my mom, allow me to give you a little background.

Growing up I wasn't the most, well, how do you say, "easy" child. I, myself managed to stay out of most trouble but found that I really liked hanging

around kids that were comfortable finding the "most" trouble. My mom well, she was pretty cool. She was the kind of mom that took

in my runaway friends, no questions asked. The kind of mom that I could talk to about all the things my other friends were hiding from their

parents (i.e. questions about sex, drinking, drugs, etc.). And she never judged you. My mother always accepted you for who you were.

Regardless if she agreed with your decisions or not.

All my friends used to tell me how lucky I was to have a mom like that. Of course at the time I thought they were delusional and had no idea what

kind of grief I had to put up with.

Now that I am an adult I can see that they had a point. I mean, how awesome is it to have a mom that is the "neighborhood" mom. A woman, that

cares so much about all the kids around her that she is willing to put herself out there, willing to deal with things I am certain her generation never

had to think twice about, a woman that just loves those kids unconditionally and wants to be maybe the one person in their lives that they can

count on. That they can be honest with. The person they can come to and not feel judged, a person they can feel safe with.

Looking back; I was pretty lucky.

Anyway, my mom and I always had a pretty close relationship. When she told me that she was going to undergo this "unnecessary" procedure

for this person we didn't even know I was pretty upset. I didn't want my mom's life jeopardized for some person I didn't know. I didn't want to risk

losing MY MOM for some stranger. But, she was her own person and she always encouraged me to be my own person so, I guess I didn't really

have a say.

It turns out that her becoming a living donor was one of the best things she could have done.

The events surrounding this event allowed her to learn that she had breast cancer. My

mother chose to have a full mastectomy. In order to remove all and any cancerous tissue that could exist/be existing in her body.

That, in itself, was a brave choice.

I have witnessed the repercussions that this disease has.

I have felt the fear that this disease causes.

I have lived every day knowing that her cancer could and had profoundly changed my life.

My mom and I are still like every other mother and daughter. We fight, we disagree, she treats me like a little kid and I rebel and push her buttons.

I am 30 years old and my mother is a breast cancer survivor.

I am 30 years old and I have a greater risk of having breast cancer myself.

I am 30 years old and pray that if I ever have a daughter she won't have to say these same things when she is the age I am now.

I am 30 years old and hope that I grow up to be as strong as selfless as my mom. (yes, the same mom that still drives me nuts.)

I am 30 years old and I love my mom and support her in her cause to help end this disease that ends other women's relationships with their

mother's against their will.

I can't walk with my mom or for my mom but in my heart I am with her with every single step she takes.

Merchandising

At the end of every month we do a new "month set" For those of you that have never worked retail (you lucky bastards) allow me to explain what that means.

A new month "set" is when we take down the previous months promotional items, coupons, displays, advertising and merchandising materials, etc. and put up all of those things for the new month.

At the company I work for every month we receive a package that contains the materials that are needed to do the new monthly set. In said package are something called "shelf talkers". Shelf talkers are 3x3 inch "cards" that advertise the sale on a particular product that are placed on the shelf (over the price tag) of that sale item. They are essentially "mini" advertising materials that are placed around the store to draw attention to all the products we have on sale that month. They are promotional materials. (For those of you that now understand what I am talking about, I apologize. It will make sense shortly why I am explaining these "shelf talkers" so thoroughly.)

So the other day was the end of the month and my associate was making her way around the store when a customer approached her and inquired about the little "cards" she was placing on the shelves.

Customer: "What are those things?"

Clerk: "These are shelf talkers."

Customer: "What does that mean?"

Clerk: "These are little advertisements we put up around the store each month to show you (the consumer) what is on sale."

Customer: "How much are they?"

Clerk: "How much are what?"

Customer: "The shelf talkers or whatever you called them?"

...

...

Clerk: "Um, they aren't for sale. They are advertising materials that are sent to us from our corporate office."

Customer: "Oh. Well what are those", motioning to an additional stack of shelf talkers.

Clerk: "Those are the same thing, they are just a little bit bigger."

Customer: "Well how much are those ones?"

Unfortunately this is when the clerk's brain exploded because it could not fathom the stupidity of the customer. It's really too bad because she was a great employee.

Clerk: "Um, again, they are not for sale, they are a merchandising material that is sent from our corporate office."

Customer: "Oh."

Price check

We have a giant wall of nail files.

The wall is intimidating. Hundreds and hundreds of nail files in neat little cubbyholes lined up on the wall, staring at me.

What do they want? Why do they stare? Where did they come from? ...I think my job is making me crazy.

A woman is standing near the giant wall, picking individual flies out their cubbyholes and inspecting them as if she is expecting to find nutritional ingredients printed on the sides.

"Hey!"

I believe she is speaking to me.

"How can I help you?"

"This file don't have a price on it, is it free?"

...

...

...

Clearly. In fact, everything on that wall is free.

No. Is this your first time in a retail store? Are you just being hopeful? Why in the world would you think that it was free? You can't be serious.

I look at her. She is completely serious.

I walk over to where she is standing and make a big show of looking at the TAG LOCATED DIRECTLY UNDERNEATH THE SPOT SHE TOOK THE FILE FROM THAT CLEARLY SHOWS THE PRICE.

"No ma'am, it says here that the file is $.79."

"Oh, yeah, that's too much."

She puts the file back in its little cubbyhole.

I take it back out and shove it into my eye socket and as I lay, bleeding to death on the sales floor I am able to transcend the meaninglessness of my job and nothing hurts anymore.

Sigh. Sorry, that's not true. What actually happened was I watched her walk around the store for another 20 minutes, picking up various items that were CLEARLY labeled with prices and yell at me,

"How much is this?"

I feel this woman is giving me more credit than I deserve. For some reason she is under the impression that I can "magically" sense which item she is picking up, in the back of the store while I am in the front so that I can tell her the appropriate price.

She is also under the impression that I am capable of memorizing the exact price of all 18,000,000 items we have in the store at any given time. (ok, that might be a slight exaggeration but it's up there.)

I have also (regrettably) given her the impression that I care that she is unable to read price labels and would love nothing more than to follow her around deciphering them for her.

She left without purchasing a single item.