I look at my job as a means to an end. It means to be my end, I believe.
If your job is a karmic distribution of all of the shitty things you’ve done in a past life, I was Hitler. Or Stalin. Or Pocahontas.
For anyone who has worked retail, there are things that you, as a customer, co worker, or manager, just don’t do. Ever. Under any circumstance.
Here are my grievances.
Coworkers:
1) Don’t fucking touch my stuff. If I wanted to tear my ad tags apart, I would. There is a reason they come connected and I’ll give you a hint; THEY’RE ALL IN ORDER. IF YOU TEAR THEM APART WHEN I’M NOT LOOKING, I WILL KILL YOU.
2) Don’t spend more time on break than you’re allowed. Seriously. If you’ve got a 30 min break, don’t take a 45, okay? Its fucking rude. Your time is no more important than mine.
3) DON’T FUCKING TOUCH MY STUFF! I cannot stress this enough. If you need to borrow my box cutter, ask me first. If you need my pen, don’t fucking take it and stand there looking at me while I search for it. Don’t touch my paperwork. I will kill you. I have a method of doing things. I don’t walk around throwing your stuff in the floor and moving mylars and stealing scissors and all sorts of stupid stuff.
4) If you start drama at work, you need to be taken to the stockroom and stuffed in the trash compactor. You’ve reached a new level of pathetic if you have to pick fights with the other losers that work with you. You have come to work, do what you’re expected, collect your money, and leave. End of story.
5) If you feel the need to page the head cashier to a register to check out a customer, you are a fucking moron. If you’re paging them, you are standing in front of a register, unless you’re in the office or the stock room, which is a moot point because you can’t see the register from either place. Don’t be the dickwad that won’t check someone out at the front because you aren’t scheduled to work that department on that day. You’re already standing close enough to a register to check someone out. Fucking do your job. Jesus Christ.
Customers:
1) Know the rules for sales and coupons. I’m so tired of people trying to argue with me about coupons. I know how they work, people. I’ve been working there for two years. The rules have been the same the entire time. Nothing changed. So, no you didn’t get to use two coupons with one item last week because the computer won’t let you. Don’t lie to me. Also, I reserve the right to limit item purchases. Read the fucking sales papers. I hate you all, by the way.
2) Don’t get mad at me when I lay your change on the counter if you did it first. It’s rude to begin with, so don’t expect me to thank you by putting your change in your hand. You laid the money on the counter to begin with, so you can pick up the change.
3) If you set your basket on the counter I will stare at it until you take your items out. If you only knew how irritating it is to have someone set a basket full of shit on the counter and stare at you while you unload their stuff. Either you take your shit out of the basket, or I will dump it out and proceed to check you out.
4) If you’re going to pay with all coins, you can walk your happy ass back to the stock room and get chummy with the other morons I stuffed in the trash compactor. If you count out every single coin and lay it on the counter, you will stand there while I double count all 12 dollars in nickels. If you’re going to be a shit head, I’ll be a shit head right back. Fuck, I may triple count the change, just in case you’re short a nickel. Then, once we determine that you’re not short change, I will count one more time. Just to be sure. Now you’re out 12 dollars and twenty min of your life.
5) The only time you should complain about a price is if it’s more than 50 cents than you were expecting to pay. I honestly don’t care if the eggs say .89 and they ring up .99. You can walk out to your car, look under the seat, and find the dime. Stfu.
6) Speaking of cars, you should be able to count the money in your wallet. If you have to run out to the car for money, you’re an idiot. You’re holding up the line, asshole.
7) Just because you are old, does not mean you can try and cheat the system or swindle me out of something. You’re old, possibly senile, but regardless, you’ve done this whole shopping thing for 60+ years and it hasn’t got much different.
8) If you pick something up and put it back down on the shelf right under where you picked it up, I just want you to know that I will hate you forever. The feeling of being watched that haunts you everywhere you go is the embodiment of my hatred for you. It’s manifested and grown until it has formed its own gravitational pull, and like a poltergeist it will follow you around until it wears you out with nagging and bitching and complaining.
Managers:
1) Don’t say one thing and do another. Seriously.
2) Don’t be all nice to my face then turn around and tell someone something stupid. I believe this goes along with starting drama, and there is still room in the compactor.
3) When I tell you I can’t work a certain day, don’t put me on the goddamn schedule. I told you I can’t work that day. If you schedule me to work, I’m not going to show up. You’re just going to be pissed that I didn’t show up, I’m going to be pissed that you’re pissed at me for not showing up even though I told you I couldn’t and you scheduled me anyways because you’re an idiot.
I mean, I shouldn’t have to say these things. I really shouldn’t. But I do feel better about it now that I’ve ranted.
One more thing:
YOU DO NOT NEED A FUCKING BAG FOR ONE ITEM. You can carry your damn Hallmark card out to the fucking car, stuff it in your over sized purse, or stuff it up your ass for all I care.
If you aren’t mature enough to buy condoms and walk out of the store with them in your hand, you’re surely not mature enough to be having sex.
Your single Hershey bar will be fine without a bag. You’re just going to inhale it as soon as you get in the car anyways.
Okay. I’m done.
