My familiar hell

To Whom It May Concern:

Shoppers of America, please note that you are severely pissing off the masses of your fellow Americans who find themselves working in the hell that is retail. Retail would be more tolerable for those of us wearing the name badges, vests, or polyester uniforms if we could change just one thing. While you may think that I am referring to the deplorable pay, working conditions, dress code, or the constant exposure to bad fluorescent lighting, you’re mistaken. I am discussing you, the absent minded consumer. While all of the aforementioned downsides of the industry do exist, the most heinous hindrance to our every day routines is the ill-mannered, ill-prepared, rude, and/or mildly retarded customers that we are forced to interact with on a daily basis. Now you may be thinking, oh, I know the ones she’s talking about and that’s not me; think again. Even though I know an offender when faced with one, I myself must admit that when I’m not on the clock at my place of employment, I too can be the asshole customer that has driven someone absolutely crazy at some other store. Most of my complaints are biased to the video and book world because those are the two industries that I have worked for the most. But whether you’re hocking novels or pushing sporting equipment, if you’ve ever worked retail you’ll know my pain. Here is a working list of the dos and don’ts of the sales world:
Don’ts:
-Don’t be surprised to find that I have not cataloged in my mind the exact shape, size, and color of every piece of merchandise of my store. You want the pink Nora Roberts book? The Johnny Depp movie with the black cover? Well guess what, Nora Roberts writes ROMANCE novels, pink is a staple color for her cover designs and Johnny Depp has been in 341 movies that all have black covers because he is a dark and brooding man. These are facts, and-by the way- not my fault. Or even better; you ask me for the book that was here last week. It was blue, and small, about yea big. Well, I can almost guarantee you that we have over one thousand books that match that exact description and odds are at least nine hundred and eighty four of them were here last week on your last visit. So please save your open mouthed shock when I can’t help you for someone who gives a damn.
-Don’t look at me like I just sodomized your grandmother when I tell you that no, you cannot get cash back for merchandise without your receipt. EVERYONE knows that. Why would I give you precious money if you can’t even be responsible enough to hold on to a piece of paper for three days? Perhaps if you’d thought about it before you bought “Jackass: The Movie” for little Timmy, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.
-Don’t expect me to watch your child. Nannies make good money, and if I liked children, I’d become one. However, since I’m not a guitar wielding nun with a sunny disposition, keep your little DNA deposits with you at all times.
-Don’t get mad at me when the aforementioned kid hurts himself because you aren’t paying attention. Just because he or she face planted into one of my displays does not make me liable. In fact it makes me nothing more than irritated because while you get to pick up your now screaming demon baby and leave in an obnoxious huff, I have four hundred copies of Harry Potter to pick up and arrange in a perfect pyramid… AGAIN.
-Don’t think that the threat of ratting me out to my manager scares me. I’m not stupid enough to do something in front of you that will get me fired, and if by some chance I did, I will deny deny deny. However, because there are so many of your kind, most retail managers have learned to smile and nod to your face and then laugh about your idiocy in the break room later. I assure you, I’m not frightened.
-Don’t think that you’re special and coupon expiration dates don’t apply to you because you made an honest mistake and forgot you had it. How about next time you make an honest mistake, make it one we can all benefit from: forget to breathe. Ten percent off is no reason for you to ruin my day.
-Don’t make me repeat things at the check out because you were too busy talking on your cell phone. Talking on your cell phone in line is the modern day equivalent of wearing white after Labor Day, Emily Post would not approve. Not only is it rude, but are you doubling your time in front of me and therefore killing my productivity, and you are pissing off scores of people behind you that don’t care about your aunt’s hysterectomy or what your husband wants for dinner. And by the way, technology has gotten swell, you needn’t yell into your cell phone, they can hear you… we can all hear you. And for those of you with the ear piece phones, don’t be shocked when I reply to a question that was intended for whoever you’re talking to on your invisible phone. At first glance, you seem schizophrenic, upon a second look I realize that, barring some kind of degenerative muscle disease, you’re just too lazy to hold a phone to your ear.

Now, there are approximately four thousand more "don'ts" that need to be included here, but frankly I'd get down to semantics that would be far too detailed for the masses to appreciate.

However, I will conclude this rant with the only "do" that has come to mind thus far:
-Do feel free to perform your shopping online. Perhaps then your idiosyncratic annoying behavior will be shining back at you in your monitor's reflection and you will realize the colossal pain in the ass you have been to scores of retail slaves like myself.

Blah

Sometimes I scare myself with my own negativity. I know.. "Then just think positively." Unfortunately, it's not that easy.


Today is one of my many 'kick myself in the ass' days. Every so often (roughly once a month at least), I get into a funk where all that I can think about is the royal cluster fuck that I've made of my life. I know I'm on the right path now, and most days I am pretty positive about that. Today was not one of those days.


I get so caught up in my "should haves" that I make myself physically sick. Do you ever just sit down and rattle off to yourself every grave mistake you've ever made and wonder how different your life would be if you had taken control of it when you should have instead of letting your catalog of faults overcome you? Ok, maybe it's just me...

There's a whole story to go with this rant, but I don't have it in me to tell it right now.

Side note: I need a new job, someone get to work on that for me...

Live and Let Shop

Perhaps it's part of my insomnia, or maybe my social anxiety, but I find it humanly impossible to shop for groceries before 2am. I can't stand to see busy aisles full of suburban moms weighing the nutritional value of the varying flavors of poptarts. My stomach turns at the idea of productive citizens who cut coupons and actually make a list of what they want to purchase. Methodical shoppers frighten me.

My people... I say, my people are the run down fathers who have worked a 12 hour day and have been sent out for formula because their crackwhore wives forgot to pick it up. My people are the young potheads who are raiding the chip aisle and carrying out 3lb tubs of potato salad. My people are the aimless drunks who can't fall asleep without that last case of Milwaukee's Best. My people are the exhausted boyfriends who have spent the past hour arguing with their girlfriends about the emasculating effects of having to purchase maxipads for her, and now stand mid-aisle asking themselves "is she on a heavy flow day, and what are these wings?" While the faces change, the people don't. Any late night grocery shopper knows these people, the various niches that make up the secret world of us. And, although we are all essentially strangers, there is an unspoken brotherhood among us. We know an outsider when we see one.

Tonight, or rather this morning, I was strolling through the lofty aisles of my local Piggly Wiggly, and I saw my typical comrades: maxipad-bitchboy, potato salad toker, and lush with bad taste in beer. We silently acknowledge each other with a yawn and a hollow stare, as per our LNS (Late Night Shoppers) code of etiquette. Then suddenly, She comes in. She is an early 30something in khakis and a lavender sweater set. Immediately She is recognized as an intruder, a flowbreaker, a far too upbeat assassin to our routine.

You can tell a lot about a person by what they have their in shopping basket, and frankly we late night shoppers don't buy cereals that lack marshmallows, meanwhile Hers had bran in the title. We don't go in the produce section for long periods of time, and if we do,it's merely to wander if someone else is on your aisle of interest (as a rule, we like to stay away from each other). She lingered and molested every granny smith they had before moving on to the red delicious.. Everyone noticed Her, and we didn't know what to make of Her. Sometimes we get new editions to the LNS crew, but their quirks are quickly revealed to us, i.e. young doctor guy who comes to shop after his 16th hour straight of doing something more important than most of us will ever do (yet he still has the good sense to buy Lucky Charms and not stick out), single mom with mini-van full of kids in the parking lot who is whipped enough by her own kids to fulfill their 3am fruit-roll up cravings, severely older men buying their hollow looking 17 year old girlfriends doritos and diet coke under the cover of night, and a lot of other easily identifiable freaks. So what was Her problem?

At first I think maybe She's just from out of town, just visiting and utilizing Her jet lag to buy some essentials. Then I realize She's wearing one of those godawful Palmetto tree necklaces that only locals wear. Scratch that idea. So maybe She's a nurse? They work late! No, She's dressed far too nicely and looks far too alive at this hour to be a nurse. I give up. I feel defeated; I can usually always pick out the grave malfunction that makes one a late night shopper. This Susie Homemaker in her sensible shoes has broken me...

I see Her head to the check out and while her branflakes, apples, low-fat milk, and other soccer mom groceries get scanned through I linger in the distance (as distant as the napkin/garbage aisle is anyway) and wonder. Could She really just be normal? And if so, what was She doing with us? As She paid, the security guard waved to her and said "Have a good one, Chelsea." (Chelsea? She's a Chelsea? What does a Chelsea do? What is wrong with the Chelsea?) So I proceeded to check out, and as She pushed her cart out to her Volvo (yeah I mildly eye-stalked her), I started grilling the security guard. "Chelsea's a regular, yes ma'am, a good girl that one..." This ancient old black man was talking slow and syrupy, not in the Southern way, more in the Biblical prophet way. And finally he said what I needed to hear to be at peace with "Chelsea" ..."...she's the best eck-zah-tic dancer they got at that there Diamonds Club" HA! She's a stripper! She is corrupt or marked in some way. She is the stripper houswife you see on such thought provoking programs as Sally Jessie. She is not normal! In fact, She is more bizarre than the rest of us because She hides her quirk so well. She's a misfit in sheep's clothing...All is right with the world.

Oh yeah...

I suppose I should actually do some introductory post. Hi. The only reason I started this is because I like to rant about things that no one really cares about. Therefore, I made this so I can rant freely and if I bore someone, it's there own fault for reading it.


I enjoy talking and learning about politics, but I'll be honest I don't know as much as I'd like to about the way our system works or the people that control it. I'm a liberal work in progress. I don't claim to be knowledgable or particularly intelligent. So, if you have an issue with anything that I say, know in advance that I'm not claiming expert status. I'm just a 22 year old trying to understand why my country is going down the toilet at such a rapid pace.

Altman's Stupidity

As a South Carolinian, I can't really say that I am surprised by the recent actions of our fine State House Reps this week. In fact, I think it should probably bother me that I'm not shocked and outraged by the fact that our representatives, particularly John Graham Altman the R-District 119 Rep(aka my neck of the woods), would rather pass a bill to make cockfighting a felony than pass one to make domestic violence more than just a misdemeanor. The red state mentality here is only getting worse, and nothing our idiotic legislators do can surprise me anymore. John Graham Altman is possibly the worst mark on our state since Strom Thurmond (And I don't care how "reformed" you want to claim he was... the racist old coot had a cold heart and deep pockets, which is all you need to survive in SC politics!). He's made a lot of bad press for himself lately, but I'm willing to bet it will not effect him come election time. Only in my city can we elect a man time and again who is openly homophobic, sexist, and is an even poorer orator than Dubya himself. Imagine the guy from SlingBlade in a nicer suit with a comb over, and you've got Altman. I'd venture to say he's probably hit a bitch or two in his day judging by the way he talks to women, including a WIS reporter who he called "not very bright" because she couldn't fathom the idea of protecting a rooster over a woman. (Silly her) Altman defends himself by stating that women shouldn't return to abusive relationships, no matter the circumstance. But I guess that makes it ok for a man to hit a woman just the once and get away with it, regardless if it's a love tap or she's beaten within an inch of her life. Basically, he puts the responsibility of not getting hit on the woman, and if she does end up beaten, well that one time was her lesson. Mind you he makes no mention of the fact that if a man hits one woman, odds are he'll hit the next one and 30 Days in jail isn't enough to break that in him. So every woman who dates this guy might get hit just once, but he might do it to 100 women, but that's ok, right? Yes I see the logic! I guess I shouldn't expect logical thinking from the same man who is trying to get my city to secede from the state for tax purposes... If you'd like to read up on Altman, let me suggest a few links: WIS Interview on Cockfighting Altman's plan to secede And so ends my first rant...