Tuesday, January 26, 2010

A Case of the Mondays

Weird to be writing this entry today, on a Tuesday, instead of yesterday which actually was Monday, but the fact of the matter was I was just too damn tired to write yesterday. I was just too damn tired to do much of anything other than stand in one spot, leaning when possible, and staring off into space. I don't even think I was thinking about anything. Just totally zoning out instead.

I had to work yesterday. It was another crappy four hour shift because this is, as I've said before, our slow time. I think the only reason I got this shift was because Ruthie had requested a day off so she could go to Massachusetts for the weekend. So, thanks, Ruthie, for that.

I was forced to work on the sales floor. Well, actually, I wasn't forced. I asked Tammy if she wanted me to process shipment out on the sales floor because there wasn't another sales associate in until noon and she said no, it was slow enough that she could handle it. And she was right. It was slow enough. We opened at nine and the first person didn't come through the doors until ten thirty. I don't think we actually used the register (and by 'we', I mean Tammy as I haven't the ability to run a register.) until after 11am.

But anyway.

Head Honcho Julie came in after 11am and saw me standing in the stockroom processing shipment. She asked me to process out on the sales floor instead. I just nodded and apparently, when I go silent, they start getting scared (residual fear from the day I Lost It, I guess.) because Head Honcho Julie then asked me, very tentatively if I would mind working out on the sales floor.

Which I did because I hate working out on the sales floor.

But I told her no, I wouldn't mind. Because I too had some residual fear from the day I Lost It, or, more accurately, the following week when I was Punished by being taken off the schedule completely.

Four hours sure as hell ain't a lot, but still, it's better than no hours.

At least I thought so.

So, yeah, I went out to the sales floor.

The Europeans were in town. They seem to come in waves. There are a lot of British tour groups that come during foliage season to look at leaves and shop in the tax free outlets. In the winter, we get skiing groups sometimes. But since Monday was windy and rainy, no one was skiing.

They were shopping instead. They started showing up about 11:30am. My shift was supposed to end at 1pm. It actually ended later than that.

I had the fun (note: sarcasm) job of working the fitting room. If I had had the ability to run the register, this whole thing may have been avoided but since the ability to run the register would mean that I would actually have to run the register, it's better off avoided.

Anyway, I'm digressing. It's a new experience for you, my faithful readers, I'm sure.

The thing about the Europeans in the fitting room is they seem to lack some of the...uh...body issues, maybe, that plague us here in the United States. And this is a huge generalization. Not all Europeans I've encountered in my long and illustrious retail career have done it. But, in my experience, when this happens, the perpetrators are not Americans.

In the fitting room, it is my job to offer to get additional sizes for the men and women who perhaps require them. Most people who take my up on this offer just throw the garment over the top of their door or open the door wearing said garment to show me what they want.

Not the ladies in the store yesterday.

Nope. They would call, "Miss, are you out there?" and when I answered yes, they would open the door in their underwear and hand me the shirt for which they required the larger size.

I saw so many mostly naked women yesterday you'd think I'd been watching soft core porn on Skinemax or something.

I wasn't.

Needless to say, after a while, whenever I heard "Miss, are you out there?", I cringed and curbed my impulse to say "No."

One summer, quite a few years ago, I spent the majority of an afternoon trying to herd a group of Italians back into their fitting rooms because they not only came out of the fitting rooms mostly naked but insisted on wandering around the store in their undressed state looking for other clothing to try on.

At least Monday's group wasn't that bad.



  1. Leave it to the Italians to one up the British.

    On a different note, is your couch fixed from the dogs yet?

  2. Define 'fixed'...

    The couch is holding its own (for now) but there's something wrong structurally since one side now appears to be lower than the other. We'll just get a booster cushion for that side.