idiots a go-go!
holy fucking shit!
It seemed like tonight was one of those nights where anything that could go wrong, DID. I could have sworn that the vast majority of people who came into my store tonight had been born with some major defect that morphed them into egocentric, dimwitted, pompous, moronic, assholes. All of them. Not one was truy nice; all had some kind of bitter "pseudo-rich-person" vibe going on. You know the ones I'm talking about. The same people who carry their little tiny, sweater-vested white dogs in a purse; and shop to find the "brand name goods". Psuedo rich upperclass people piss me off. Ones that bring in their little tiny "designer dogs" and place them on my counter (which they proceed to drool all over) piss me off more. GET YOUR DOG OFF MY COUNTER. I will not clean up after your tiny shit machine. There are things which i can't possibly be paid enough to do for my job, and cleaning up fecal matter is one of them.
As soon as I got to work tonight, I had cash time. I'm seriously getting tired of people coming up to my till, holding a shirt with little moth holes, and demanding that I give them $5.00 off. We are not a dollar store. And I will not give out discounts to just anyone. I would prefer to not get fired simply because you wanted your 2.99 pair of shoes for 49 cents. And why is it that people who can't speak English always wrap their money in snot soaked paper towels? have you people ever heard of wallets?! I'm sorry, but I don't necessarily feel like catching your Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome. I had this one guy in tonight, an old east indian man who came shuffling up to my till clutching a baggie with 4 spoons in it and a tiny pepper shaker. I kindly explained to him that the spoons were 19 cents each, and the pepper shaker was 49 cents. It became apparent to me that he was probably old and senile when all he did was blink at me. After explaining it to him again...and again...I started to get frustrated; which caused him to blink at me, and try to communicate in Hindi. After about 10 minutes of "You. have. 4. spoons. here..1, 2, 3, 4 they. go. for. 19. cents each."; I gave up and just rang him through hoping he had enough money. It came to around $2.00, but even though he was clutching a $5 bill, he decided to splurge and give me a $20.
And that was just the start of my day.
While on cash today, I had a call from a seething-obviously-over-protective-mother who had been in earlier and purchased a discman with her daughter. She told me that the furniture guy had promised her that it worked, even when she asked him multiple times. I tried to explain to her that we do not give cash refunds, only exchange and that's when it got ugly.
Her: "I don't care if you only have exchange, I was in here earlier today and I made SURE to ask the man if it worked, he told me it did and it DOESN'T. I want my money back!"
Me: "maam, we don't give cash refunds, its excange only within the store for an item of equal pr...."
Her: "I DON'T CARE. I WANT MY MONEY BACK"
And of course I couldn't really say: "Well I want my life back, but I'm stuck dealing with fuck-wits like you 5 days a week."
She went on like this for about 5 more minutes, before I finally patched her through to a supervisor. There's one thing that really makes me mad, and that's when people cut me off when I'm talking. It's not my god damned fault the discman's not working. Everything we get is by donation, and if shit doesn't work, then too bad for you. If you want a working discman, then go to futureshop for godsake. That's almost as aggravating as the time when I was in the furniture department and a guy wanted to know if we sold floppy disks...of course we do, they're right outside with the working 54" flatscreen TV. [/sarcasm] Floppy Disks are already pretty inexpensive with the introduction of burnable CD's, and he would probably have no trouble finding some at London Drugs. It scared me though, I couldn't believe someone could actually be this cheap. It scared me a little more though that he was planning on using a monitor cable to transfer files from his desktop computer to his laptop...
We had some Iranian/ Spanish / Mexicans fresh from Seattle later on in the night, who decided they would be funny and pay for their items in American money. So the cashier that rang them through calculated the exchange rate, bagged their stuff and sent them on their merry way, when they decided that she had made a mistake. They spent the next 30 minutes arguing with the girl over the exchange rate, almost convinced she was wrong. Their whole basis for an argument was that the Value Village which they had previously been at used a different exchange rate than we did. That didn't make any sense, so my supervisor gave the Value Village a call to try and sort things out. In the meantime, mr. Crazy-Illiterate-Iranian told me to ring his friend through, so at least they wouldn't have to wait for him. I rang his friend's curling irons and other various hair care products (that apparently no curly haired iranian can be without) when he informed me that he needed to break his $50 American bill. And to do that we needed to figure out the exchange rate. At this point in the day I was sweaty, sore, exceedingly aggravated, and ready to jump over the counter...though I would have probably been stoned. I asked his friend if he had any canadian money on him, but all I got was a blank stare (typical of the inbred hicks we got today) so I had to void his purchase. So now I'm sweaty, sore, way-past-aggravated, and ready to smash them over their big fat heads with a curling iron. Somehow, the situation gets resolved and they leave...only to reappear a few minutes later, yelling about how their "bags" went missing. Apparently they had brought in some shopping bags when they entered the store and had placed them on the floor...in our "donation" area. My supervisor, thinking they had been donations, sent the bags downstairs to be priced. SO, much more craziness ensues; ending with the Iranians vacating the premises and us breathing a sigh of relief.
Last night was slightly better than today, but not by much:
- I had fitting room duty all day. Alone. By the end of my shift I had accumulated 5 buggies stacked 7 ft tall (I double checked to make sure) with dirty, crotch stained clothes that no one will ever wear. A pile of said clothes fell ontop of me.
- While I was on fitting room duty, a mentally challenged person was going around the store in a continous loop, dancing and snapping their fingers to the rythym of our "moosac". This went on for about an hour before closing, causing us to worry that they would continue to do so all night.
You know its been a bad day when you're cleaning up puzzles of Hawaii/ other beachy areas and you think to yourself: "One day I'll be there!"
On a happier note, tomorrow is my 19th birthday :D
And thank you MiKE for letting me vent to you about the crazies I have to put up with ♥♥