Confessions of a Retail Worker

Alongside university, I have a job, which is pretty great. I work in retail, and obviously I can't say which store, but it's pretty big. I get that I have responsibilities in my job, otherwise I'd get paid for doing essentially nothing, but sometimes, I feel that shoppers stretch these concepts a bit too far every now and again, and somewhere below are a few examples of that.

I've been at said store for about two years now, so I'm getting the full experience when it comes to what happens in retail stores. I've also learned that whoever came up with the term 'the customer is always right' has a lot to answer for. That's right, ladies and gents; we hate you. We may look all sociable and all happy on the outside, but secretly, we hate you. Not loads, but a bit nonetheless.

I'd just like to kick off by showing you this concept for a store 'of the future'. I'd also like to add; good luck keeping all that in check when you get some little messy kids in store, or some elderly folks who can't figure out how to use a tablet.

I would try and conjure up some form of coherent structure to this series of experiences, stories and complaints, but as with most things which attempt to write down, it'll probably just turn into one big rant. 

People are dicks.

Unless you catch me at the start of my shift, and you're a nice person, I'm sorry, but I won't legitimately care. There's only so much caring I can do in one day, and it is with regret that I tell you that most of it is wasted on people who don't have manners. Or any form of common courtesy. 

As soon as I get to a till, I know that the next 8 or so hours will be filled with people being entitled, demeaning dicks. So when I'm confronted with a lady who thinks she knows the consumer rights act inside-out, or people who seem to have forgotten that the words 'please' and 'cheers' actually exist, you'll have to forgive me if I'm not very enthusiastic. See, if it weren't for you slamming shit down on the counter, barely responding to me, or tutting vigorously, I'd be none the wiser. Act like a bit more of a dick, and I may serve you faster.

What's that? You don't believe our refunds policy? Well, I'll get a manager to repeat what I just said, pretty much word for word, and then you'll be absolutely fine, because you simply don't trust my word as a lowly cashier. You dick.

You've dropped a jacket on the floor. Fair enough, these things happen. You glance up, see me, and proceed to walk away, because you know I'll have to do it? That makes you an arsehole, good sir. My job isn't to be your personal bitch...

If I'm serving your other half, there's no need to fret. I call everyone 'love' and 'mate', it's not an exclusive thing I'm doing just to get on your nerves. If you're going to be an unsociable cock and just sit with your back to me, that's fine, but if you're going to start sizing me up because I'm serving your missus, then you can do one, mate. I'm serving her, not trying to pull her. 

Right, so a pair of chatty women, I can deal with. Said pair who proceed to ignore me, I can deal with. The same pair, who then insist on taking three (yes, I counted) selfies during the course of the transaction, I cannot. I am done, my hope is lost. Who wants to know about your shopping trip? No-one, love. Your horrendous example of vain-gloriousness is a reason why I don't trust people anymore. And speaking of excessive use of Snapchat...

Get off your bloody phone.

There was a lady at Sainsbury's that refused to serve a customer who was on the phone. Good on her. That's something I've encountered far too much at work, it's like everyone suddenly loses any knowledge of basic etiquette. I mean, I don't mind if I'm serving you and you receive a call, just say something along the lines of "I'm sorry, I need to take this". That's fine. I ain't your other half, who demands your attention at all times. 

However, if you come to the till on your phone and don't make an effort to wrap up your call, you're a dick. I've served people at times and not said a world all the way through, either resorting to an incredibly fake smile, or if I'm feeling particularly vicious, a passive-aggressive "thanks".

But really, are you normally just a prick to complete strangers? Or have you just had a bad day? Honestly, I couldn't care less pal, you being pissy is no excuse to treat others in a shitty manner. 

In addition, when did kids become such little shits? Numerous times, a mother and her kid will be at the tills; said mother will be friendly and sociable, and the kid will be on their phone. Just texting, nothing special. The mum will make some remark along the lines of "These are nice, aren't they?", to absolutely no response. Then I have to resist the urge to make adult remarks that the child won't understand. I swear retail brings out the worst in you.   

No, I won't look after your kids.

I thought this was something which happened solely in Walmart stores in America, but apparently being a shitty parent is a pretty worldwide phenomenon.

I can understand customers wanting us to save items for a while if they go and look elsewhere, but that's because they're inanimate objects, and chances are we can replace them if they go missing. But you want me to watch your kids, "for five minutes" while you have a look around this massive shop, and when I've got stuff to do.

Mate, I'm sorry to inform you, but people study courses and stuff in order to look after kids. I have no such qualifications. Go find someone who wants to take care of children, rather than asking me to. I mean, kids are... errrrrrrrrr.

I've even had people who can't deal with their kids ask me to tell them off. I can barely take myself seriously at work, and you expect me to maintain any kind of composure telling a 7 year-old lad to pack it in? If it were up to me and a manager wasn't watching, I'd probably be running around the shop floor screaming too.

That being said, if you're willing to pay me a childminder's wage, then I'll give it a go at least.

I don't know, and don't really care.

I would normally care about how you've been served, or if the quality of our products are questionable, but if you're going to be a dosy prick and not even try any other options, then you can just immediately do one. 

We've just had a sale kick-off at work, which is annoying a couple of reasons. It's never Black Friday levels of bad, but we still get people waiting to be let in. Firstly, it means lots of late shifts for us, having to stay behind to tidy up shit, sticker shit and organise shit. That's a bit shit as it is. The other annoying thing, is what customers subsequently turn into in sale time. You become monsters. Patrons throw shit on the floor and don't make any effort to be tidy or decent. And it also seems that commonsense goes out of the window too. 

Good God, this video sums it all up so well...

Just take a second and think. We're in a sale, in which products sell very, very quickly. So that top that you're so certain we've got in, isn't in. Don't believe me? I'll pretend to have a look in the back then. I get that the stockroom is a magical, mysterious place for you customers, but it's just a big room. And in this case, with no clothes in them. 

Is this item in the sale? Well, luckily enough, I've got our entire stock-take memorised in my head. It's only three quid off, so you don't want it? And you say you'll go to Primark instead? Mate, I'll show you the exit... 

You're annoyed that this isn't in the sale? It's not honestly. Yup, I checked earlier, it's only things that are on certain rails. Yeah, there probably are some misplaced items, because we're understaffed and people like you apparently have the memory of a alcoholic goldfish. 

I don't know when we'll have that item in. That vaguely described dress that I miraculously found online isn't coming back anytime soon. I'm not even sure such a thing exists:

"Have you got this dress, I've seen it in your other store.It's like, kinda, a navy blue thing with this shape *unintelligible motions* down the back. It had a playsuit kinda deal going off, but it was like a mix of a dress and a scarf. No, I don't know a product code or name...". Mate, if you're gonna want me to even try and humour you and your oddly unspecific request, at least try. Try not to act like a clueless wank-stain. 

We get our stock at random, and we don't pick what we get, someone who's never been in store does all that business. And you can piss off if you think you're getting free delivery because you've suddenly remembered your manners. Dick. 

We're shut. Piss off.

Luckily for me, this has never hindered me personally, but I've heard disastrous tales of it in other, similar stores in which friends have worked in. 

For our store, let's say we shut at 9pm, which is a reasonable time to close, or so I thought. If I'm on a shift until 9, I'll go at 9 on the dot, as there'll be someone else to serve, (everyone does that, not just myself by the way). Chances are that we'll have a good few people in until 9:30, by which time all customers will have left, theoretically. 

So, this ain't a problem for our store, what with us staying in later and us having a shitload of staff. But if I'm in until that utterly final closing time, I can guarantee there will always be a few questionable characters in the shop until the very end. And by 'questionable characters', I mean dickheads who are trying to nick stuff, or think that cause we're tired and wanting to go home, we'll get frustrated and just knock money off of things. Well no, you tight-arse, I'm here for another hour, so there's plenty of time for you to act up, me to pretend to look in the back, get a manager, quibble for a bit, get security to escort you out, and I'll still be going home on time. 

And if you try and nick stuff at the end of the shift, what with us having fewer staff, then just do one. Especially stealing stuff in the sale. is three quid to expensive for this top? That's a Subway you could've bought, so just buy it properly, you dick. 

It's best when these individuals try and masquerade as clueless shoppers from abroad, asking if we've got something in, before being sternly told, "It's 9:30, we're shut, you need to leave". Yup, dump those clothes round the back of the shop and pretend you don't have a grasp of the concept of time, as long as you aren't stealing anything, I don't care. 

Pretty much every day...

Did I ruin your special occasion? I'm good at that.

Picture this: Lady essentially jumps behind the tills, asking if we have anymore of these shoes in the back, because the ones that are out are all dirty. 

Fair enough. An average inquiry, one which I believe I'm qualified to deal with. So if you'll now imagine me stood face-to-face with this lady at either side of the counter. "How quickly do you need them?" I ask, expecting a date which is more than 12 hours away. 

More often than not, I'm greeted with an answer of "tomorrow". So, once I've looked and I realise we haven't got any of these magical mystery shoes left in store, none in any local stores, and none online to order, (which doesn't matter as we need at least one day to order them, and even then that'll cost you pal), what do you expect me to say? Do you want me to begrudgingly conjure a pair out of my arse? Did you want me to go to our distribution centre and rummage around until I found a pair, then run back to the store before we close? 

Love, you're asking me to perform a logistical impossibility, and your shitty, snappy tone isn't helping. Just accept that you'll have to go next door, and get off my case. 

What's that, I've ruined your wedding tomorrow? Well, maybe you should plan your outfit for the special day with a number of days in the double digits, not with a decimal point. The same goes for countless birthdays, anniversaries and nights out which I have seemingly ruined, because I'm a dick who controls all of our stock.

There's a H&M literally next door love, just go there.

Do you know what a fitting room is? 

As a man, I'm sometimes on the men's section of this retail store. I like doing this; it's usually quieter and I can have a look at stuff for myself in the process. 

However, I've noticed that us men, like women, can be utter bellends when it comes to shopping. We have plenty of rooms purposely allocated for you to try shit on, I know you're here with your missus and you think your Chris Hemsworth, but use them. I don't want to see you topless, mate. Neither does that kid who's staring at you. Neither does anyone here, and if it weren't for my perilous job security, I would've approached you and asked you to use one. 

Instead, I'm on here bitching about it, but what else am I to do? 

With that being said, maybe I don't want you to use the fitting rooms after all. Whenever I've checked them, they've been a right shit-tip. Seriously, you have no idea how much I appreciate people who hang their clothes up and put them on a rail when they've tried them on. Some just leave them on the floor, the same floor which is caked in dust and hair (on a good day). 

Fitting rooms make me question whether people are actually civilised, or whether we're devolving on the evolutionary scale. I could have let a pack of wolves in those rooms, and there'd be a higher chance that the items they took in would come out folded, or on hangers. 

Ah well, at least I haven't found an bodily fluids or excrement in there. Yet. 

There are staff on the floor, have you looked?

Sometimes, this nameless retail store will be understaffed on a quite busy night, and we'll have the minimum amount of people on each section. One person will be on the tills, (usually me), another will be tidying the shop floor, and another will be doing customer requests. In this period, especially when there's a queue, you'll always get some silly arse who comes up to the tills, often shouting "I CAN'T SEE ANYONE AROUND! IS ANYONE SERVING?". 

Yeah pal, let me just stop this massive queue, (which you were complaining about too), to see if we've got one item in, which you ain't even gonna buy. Trust me, I've had the entire, "I'll look online myself" deal so many times, I've developed a sixth sense for it. Hence, you'll have to forgive me if I'm not that willing to annoy about twenty people to deal with your lone inquiry which you won't even follow through with. 

Stop making a scene, you're not royalty. Dick. 

And while I'm talking about queues, yeah there is one. Deal with it mate, I'm getting it sorted as quickly as possible. If I serve quickly, I'll get someone whining about shitty customer services, if I focus on being friendly, people will complain about how long it's taking. 

It's like road traffic. If you're in it, you are it. Do you really need to buy this pair of jeans oh so desperately? If the answer is 'yes', then fair enough. If not, dump them somewhere and get out of the queue. 

Points for originality, and thanks for pretending to care.

For the love of Christ, if I make small-talk and you end up telling me how lovely the weather is outside, I will have to refrain from stabbing you with a Biro. Cheers for telling me that you'll be off to a beer garden in the glorious sunshine, which happens to have an extended happy hour for the exact duration of my shift, and I'll be stuck without any natural light for the upcoming 6 hours.

And if you're someone who gives me a weird look, or comments on the quality of my folding when I jokingly remark, "apologies for my horrendous folding skills", then you can just do one son, jog on right into next door. 

It's not all that bad; sometimes people are nice. Sometimes people try and tell jokes, and make subtle remarks at how people are dicks. But let me give you a quick outline on what to say when being served: If something doesn't scan through the till, do not say "It must be free then", as one day you'll be met with "YOU EDGY PERSON YOU, THAT'S SOME DANK LAUGHS RIGHT THERE, GOOD ONE". Try something a bit more personal, like inquiring about the worst person I've served today. I get to vent, and you get to practice feigning interest. It's a win-win, really. 

The one thing I can't thank you for enough though, is attempting to have a conversation, a legitimate one. There's only so many lines I say, and I honestly can't be arsed to delve into something new. I'm like a NPC. 

Only a bit more human, and nowhere near as funny. So when people make the effort and start talking for me, it's just grand. If you're one of those lovely people, ta. 

But please don't be too caring.

There are some exceptions to this rule though. I once transferred to a different branch of the store in the same city as my university, which was convenient and very nice of the still nameless company. I often found that my accent, my way of conversing with others, and my manners were something of a novelty item for the people I served. Ah well, it got me more attention and good words for doing nothing extra, so I rolled with it. 

But one time, a gentleman took my normality for friendliness. And proceeded to hold up the queue for about 10 minutes while he chatted shit to me. Seriously, his stuff was in the bag, his wallet was in his pocket, and he's still going on about what I want to do at uni, and what job I'm after. I can remember his stare, his rapid, breathless talking. There was a point in which it changed from a conversation, to an interrogation. Guantanamo Bay could do with a chap like him. 

We often like to say 'kill them with kindness' when it comes to customer service in retail, but we're often woefully unprepared for when said kindness is so viciously turned on us. I know the chap had good intentions, but please try to refrain from being all serial-killery when being served. Please.

I think I'm done venting. Or ranting. Or just typing utter shite until my fingers hurt. I'm not trying to make the job sound all extravagant or excessively crappy. But I can essentially guarantee you that I'll be working tomorrow, and I'll discover something entirely new to rant about, in which case I'll probably edit this blog again. Although, it seems if I'm looking for interesting developments in my job, serving at restaurants may be the way to go. 

Just keep a thought for workers every now and again. I mean, we're people too, you dicks. At the very least, retail has made me into a much better customer.