Work: Like an SNL sketch come to life
It was while I was driving home that I realized three separate instances all related back to Saturday Night Live. Granted, it's not as if work was funny ha-ha today; in fact, it caused great physical and I suppose you could say emotional issues. But we all survived. If only I hadn't met the Grade-A Grand Poobah of Assholes...
The day started off somewhat okay. I got to work early to deal with whatever mess was left from yesterday. My boss, R, wasn't far behind, and eventually he discovered that P hadn't closed out one of the registers...and we're not exactly sure how she could close the store with a register still open, but she did. It took me a while to figure out what I needed for change, plus there were four deposits to deal with (two each from the kiosk and the store proper), so I didn't even leave for the bank until after 9:30. Apparently Thursdays are busy at the bank; I'd explained to the teller that we'd had a substitute at the store who didn't know where the bank was, and she was like, show him next time! She wasn't mean about it, but there was a line forming behind me. Not good. Then Pa. stopped in to pick up his paycheck among other things, and after that I discovered a $45 "additional comp prepay" on my own check. What? Usually that line is there if our store has won a contest and received a gift certificate; we have done no such thing as of late. I certainly did not get $45 from the company...but they taxed me on it. Worse, it happened to everyone as far as I can tell. R spent a good deal of time on the phone trying to figure it out.
After that, everything was relatively normal for a while. It was very slow today, but that's not a big deal to me because that means I can get my work done--in this case, playing with the paperwork from the past two days, and then working on the returns list. Ad. had called me yesterday morning regarding the returns, but I think he was using an old list. Ah well.
P came in at one while R was receiving the DC. She ran down to give J her break, and when she came back up I unloaded our returns cart and went to take mine. Meanwhile, R took a bunch of calendar boxes down to the kiosk.
Between ten and fifteen minutes into my break, P came back and said that there was a guy looking to return close to $100 worth of stuff...and he had his receipt, and he had paid cash. Immediately my antennae were up and the word scam flashed in my head. I jumped up and said, we can't do that, and I went to the front. The guy was in automatic asshole mood. He said he'd been in on Sunday right when we opened and the "girl at the counter" told him we couldn't do the return because we didn't have the funds in the drawer. While that statement is true, *I* would have been the girl at the counter, and he definitely was not at my store this past Sunday, and I told him that. Of course then he said, well, it was this weekend, maybe it was Saturday, whatever, I was inconvenienced. (Later I realized that P was the one who opened on Saturday and she would have been the one that would have done a return, and clearly she did not recognize the man. We don't have that many returns done around here that she would forget something like this. Only keyholders are allowed to do returns, and we're usually by ourselves first thing in the morning. Therefore, he was blowing smoke from his ass. After he left R said something like, the guy wasn't even sure where he was this weekend. Somehow I don't think it was here.)
He had a pile of travel books to return, two guides to Rome (which, later on, we'd discover we've never ever carried) and about half a dozen popout maps of Chicago. He had his receipt--from another store, natch--and it came to $99.30. I didn't even check that the books matched the receipt; I saw the price and went, I have to get R. Also, the date on the receipt was September 18th. Our policy is that within thirty days with your receipt, we'll give you back how you paid. Without the receipt or after 30 days, it's store credit. The guy kept having a hissy fit because it was two days over, and he was here on the weekend, clearly before the thirty days, and we wouldn't do the return, and blah blah blah. Dude, I get it, I understand, but this is a significant amount of cash we're giving back to you. I need to get the manager. Yes, he's physically in the mall, not at home. Let me find him. I called down to the kiosk, but crap, he wasn't there. J hadn't even seen him. Where is he? I told the guy I'd be right back and I booked it over to the food court in case he was actually grabbing a bite to eat.
He was not in the food court. I walked through it and glanced at all the tables, but no luck. Crap. Well, maybe by now he's made it to the kiosk. I know he went there because the hand cart was gone and some of the boxes had been cleared from the back room while I was in the bathroom. I ran down to the kiosk and he wasn't there...but as I started to leave he walked through the doorway. (The freight elevator by our store was broken, so he had to find another one.) I immediately pounced--"You have to go back upstairs right now!" I told him what was up and he told me to go ahead with the refund but to ask for ID. Okay, fine, the dude has the receipt. I book it back to the store. By now I am out of breath, panting, and my throat is sore. (I'm actually feeling it again as I type this.) Regardless of how much he was getting back, since it was over $2, he'd have to fill out a form. The ID was just to prove he was who he said it was. However, God forbid he proves himself to us. As he did before I started running all over the mall, he started reading the return policy off to me. Sir, I am well aware of what the return policy says. What part of you are trying to take a significant chunk of money from our store is not getting through to you? He starts going on about how we're part of Borders, and Borders doesn't do this. Sir, we are not Borders. We are related but we are two separate entities. Our return policies are not the same. He kept going on about how our return policy did not mention needing an ID in order to return something. Again, we are in the business of making money, not giving it away. Most people making returns return much smaller items or else put larger amounts on a credit card. Credit cards are different. We are more lenient with them. Even P told me later that if it had all been put on a credit card that she would have verified the credit card and then put the return through.
Super Asshole Man then demanded I call down to R at the kiosk so that he could talk to him. Fine. I dialed the number and gave him the phone. I don't know what R said to him, but SAM's end of the conversation wasn't much different from what I'd already heard. At this point I was already thinking, had you gone out to your car and just gotten your ID, we would have been finished by now. I was SO tempted to say something to that effect, but luckily I realized that would just make the situation worse. The whole thing with the ID wasn't necessarily that he didn't want us to know who he was; it was that it was "inconvenient" for him to run out to his car to get it. I never understand why people don't carry their IDs on them at all times. What if there's a freak accident in the mall and a light fixture comes crashing down on you? (Or, perhaps, a disgruntled book clerk pushes you over the edge of the railing onto the first floor...) The authorities will have a hard time identifying your body, causing anguish to your family. Although perhaps this guy doesn't have a family and that's why he's so angry at the world. Anyway, so he's already been to our store (supposedly) twice now, and he's waited fifteen--no, twenty now--minutes for me to run around the mall, and now he's demanding the DM's phone number so he can complain about this RIGHT NOW to the DM. Right. Because you can actually reach the DM at that number. It's his voice mail. It's not often he's actually in his office.
Naturally, when I dialed the number, I got the voice mail. Naturally, this was not good enough for SAM. I hadn't listened to the voice mail this morning, so I didn't know where the DM was going to be today, but I know he mentioned his schedule for this week on the conference call Monday. I'd written down that he was going to be at his base store. Okay. I call there...and he's at another store. Great. I call there and I brief the person who answered the phone on what's going on, and eventually the DM comes on. I try to tell him what's going on, but he's on speakerphone or something and doesn't hear me. At this point R is back in the store and is gesturing for me to hand him the phone, so I do, and I use this moment to take my leave. P is in the back working on the returns list, and she stops me and is like, I am so sorry you had to deal with this. She told me what had happened before I came from the back, and then after I'd left the store. At one point during the phone calls the guy referred to me as the Assistant Manager (um, no), but P had told him I was acting as the AM. Whoa. I never thought of it that way. Between her reaction and the upgrading of my title, I suddenly felt really bad about how negatively I felt about her yesterday. If I've not mentioned it, I do like her as a person. It's as a coworker that she drives me nuts. Wow. So, we talked for a minute (with SAM looking around and sort of looking at us during that time), and I went in the back to finish my lunch.
I was in the back for at least ten minutes. It's not like I had that much left to eat, and after all that I wasn't terribly hungry, but I wanted to sit and chill for a bit as well as finish catching my breath. I was clearly panting while SAM was on the phone with R down in the kiosk. Curse me for not having much water on me today. I tried to dawdle a bit in the back. I even found a book on Festivus--you know, the made-up holiday from Seinfeld, no, seriously--but when I came out after ten/fifteen minutes, SAM was *still* there! R was finishing up the return. P and I tried to stay away from the counter at all costs, but I had to check on something from the returns list so I was near the counter toward the end. P came up to me and whispered, "I hope he never comes back!" Somehow I doubt it.
Right after all was said and done--I still don't know that SAM got his ID--R talked to us a bit about rude customers, and how the general public doesn't realize how horrible some people can be. He told us about a regular customer he has with a company he and his wife run; no matter what, this guy finds something to complain about. Seriously, this is why I cannot be a manager. I would totally tell the guy to take his business elsewhere. And the thing about R is he's a nice, easy-going guy. He has the tolerance to put up with assholes. I don't. P and I agreed that we don't get paid enough to deal with people like that. However, we were told that if a customer has a receipt, no matter when during the day it is, we must give them the money back. Take it out of the safe; give it back in all pennies. He doesn't care. Okay, fine, and I understand, but #1--He did not come in on Sunday. I don't know where he thought he was, but it was not here. I am the sort of person who would explain that, hey, when it's the first thing in the morning and I start off with $100 in my drawer, and you're trying to return $99.30 worth of merchandise, something doesn't jive. R just wants to keep the customer happy. I passed that point a long time ago. #2--What stuck in my craw was the amount. We had scam artists working their way through the area earlier in the year, and while the M.O. was different, they were working with big amounts. It is highly unusual for someone to return that volume of merchandise for that large of an amount. I'm not comfortable doing that. I am not a manager. I do not want to give an okay on that. P and I spoke later about it and we agreed that certain things did not jive. What I never understand is, why not call the store? Let us know you're coming. Explain the situation to us so we are prepared. Most of all, stay calm and rational. I understand that you're frustrated, but being a complete jerk doesn't help matters.
Eventually, I signed off on the return slip. P had overheard SAM talking to R about making sure the tax was right. (This was what she mentioned to me, what stuck out to her as odd.) Most people, when they return merchandise, don't pay attention to the tax. He knew that the tax rate was different between where he bought it and here. Funnily enough, had he not mentioned it and R not paid attention, he possibly would have gotten *more* money back, as our tax rate is higher than the other store's (6.75% to 7.5%). And the money he got back was $94 and change, so he must have kept something. Either that, or R charged him an asshole tax. :)
The SNL part that comes into play: The guy's name, or what he put on the form, is the same as that of an equally loud, pompous, and arrogant person who is well-known on TV. I will not say his name--please, do not guess it either--but Darrell Hammond does a mean impression of the guy on SNL.
While I was not able to get revenge on SAM--nay, R even gave him a 20% off coupon (great, let's reward him for his assholian behavior)--I was able to serve bookstore justice before I left. This guy was over in mags...the adult mags. He was lifting them up and looking at the covers, then putting them back. Okay, no biggie. As per my job, I walked over there and greeted him, at which point he let go of whatever porno mag he was holding. Why, yes, I do enjoy freaking out the insecure porno people. So I walk away and go behind the counter, and he's still over in the adult mags. I see him glancing over at me, so I look right at him. Then I see him pull down a mag and I hear the familiar sound of porno plastic being ripped open. Oh no you di-int. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, but when I heard it again I walked to the end of the counter by the mags, saw him pull out the mag, then said something like, please don't open the magazines. How would you like to pay for that today? Oh, my word did he start to freak out--I didn't know I couldn't open it! I just wanted to look at it! Sir, the magazines are in plastic for a reason. If you want to look at them, you need to buy them. He was all freaked out at the thought that he'd actually have to pay for it. He got saved by the phone, luckily for him. I wasn't actually going to make him pay for it, but I hoped I could guilt him into it. I did have him hand me the mag and then asked him to leave, which he did. This caused SNL moment #2--he looked like he could use the fake adult diaper, Oops! I Crapped My Pants.
Moment #3 is just me being a dork. A certain former cast member has written a kids' book, and since it's related to winter I put it up on our back wall with the other winter/holiday books. It was clear that somebody looked at it today. That just made me happy. :) He had another book, but only one of that book got sold (hmm, who could have bought it?). One mysteriously disappeared. What does it say when somebody likes you enough to steal your book, but not enough to actually pay for it? Anyway, it would be nice if someone else aside from me actually bought this new book. Personally, I am waiting for our discount days next month. Yes, I'm a fan of said person, but why not save as much money as possible?
The day started off somewhat okay. I got to work early to deal with whatever mess was left from yesterday. My boss, R, wasn't far behind, and eventually he discovered that P hadn't closed out one of the registers...and we're not exactly sure how she could close the store with a register still open, but she did. It took me a while to figure out what I needed for change, plus there were four deposits to deal with (two each from the kiosk and the store proper), so I didn't even leave for the bank until after 9:30. Apparently Thursdays are busy at the bank; I'd explained to the teller that we'd had a substitute at the store who didn't know where the bank was, and she was like, show him next time! She wasn't mean about it, but there was a line forming behind me. Not good. Then Pa. stopped in to pick up his paycheck among other things, and after that I discovered a $45 "additional comp prepay" on my own check. What? Usually that line is there if our store has won a contest and received a gift certificate; we have done no such thing as of late. I certainly did not get $45 from the company...but they taxed me on it. Worse, it happened to everyone as far as I can tell. R spent a good deal of time on the phone trying to figure it out.
After that, everything was relatively normal for a while. It was very slow today, but that's not a big deal to me because that means I can get my work done--in this case, playing with the paperwork from the past two days, and then working on the returns list. Ad. had called me yesterday morning regarding the returns, but I think he was using an old list. Ah well.
P came in at one while R was receiving the DC. She ran down to give J her break, and when she came back up I unloaded our returns cart and went to take mine. Meanwhile, R took a bunch of calendar boxes down to the kiosk.
Between ten and fifteen minutes into my break, P came back and said that there was a guy looking to return close to $100 worth of stuff...and he had his receipt, and he had paid cash. Immediately my antennae were up and the word scam flashed in my head. I jumped up and said, we can't do that, and I went to the front. The guy was in automatic asshole mood. He said he'd been in on Sunday right when we opened and the "girl at the counter" told him we couldn't do the return because we didn't have the funds in the drawer. While that statement is true, *I* would have been the girl at the counter, and he definitely was not at my store this past Sunday, and I told him that. Of course then he said, well, it was this weekend, maybe it was Saturday, whatever, I was inconvenienced. (Later I realized that P was the one who opened on Saturday and she would have been the one that would have done a return, and clearly she did not recognize the man. We don't have that many returns done around here that she would forget something like this. Only keyholders are allowed to do returns, and we're usually by ourselves first thing in the morning. Therefore, he was blowing smoke from his ass. After he left R said something like, the guy wasn't even sure where he was this weekend. Somehow I don't think it was here.)
He had a pile of travel books to return, two guides to Rome (which, later on, we'd discover we've never ever carried) and about half a dozen popout maps of Chicago. He had his receipt--from another store, natch--and it came to $99.30. I didn't even check that the books matched the receipt; I saw the price and went, I have to get R. Also, the date on the receipt was September 18th. Our policy is that within thirty days with your receipt, we'll give you back how you paid. Without the receipt or after 30 days, it's store credit. The guy kept having a hissy fit because it was two days over, and he was here on the weekend, clearly before the thirty days, and we wouldn't do the return, and blah blah blah. Dude, I get it, I understand, but this is a significant amount of cash we're giving back to you. I need to get the manager. Yes, he's physically in the mall, not at home. Let me find him. I called down to the kiosk, but crap, he wasn't there. J hadn't even seen him. Where is he? I told the guy I'd be right back and I booked it over to the food court in case he was actually grabbing a bite to eat.
He was not in the food court. I walked through it and glanced at all the tables, but no luck. Crap. Well, maybe by now he's made it to the kiosk. I know he went there because the hand cart was gone and some of the boxes had been cleared from the back room while I was in the bathroom. I ran down to the kiosk and he wasn't there...but as I started to leave he walked through the doorway. (The freight elevator by our store was broken, so he had to find another one.) I immediately pounced--"You have to go back upstairs right now!" I told him what was up and he told me to go ahead with the refund but to ask for ID. Okay, fine, the dude has the receipt. I book it back to the store. By now I am out of breath, panting, and my throat is sore. (I'm actually feeling it again as I type this.) Regardless of how much he was getting back, since it was over $2, he'd have to fill out a form. The ID was just to prove he was who he said it was. However, God forbid he proves himself to us. As he did before I started running all over the mall, he started reading the return policy off to me. Sir, I am well aware of what the return policy says. What part of you are trying to take a significant chunk of money from our store is not getting through to you? He starts going on about how we're part of Borders, and Borders doesn't do this. Sir, we are not Borders. We are related but we are two separate entities. Our return policies are not the same. He kept going on about how our return policy did not mention needing an ID in order to return something. Again, we are in the business of making money, not giving it away. Most people making returns return much smaller items or else put larger amounts on a credit card. Credit cards are different. We are more lenient with them. Even P told me later that if it had all been put on a credit card that she would have verified the credit card and then put the return through.
Super Asshole Man then demanded I call down to R at the kiosk so that he could talk to him. Fine. I dialed the number and gave him the phone. I don't know what R said to him, but SAM's end of the conversation wasn't much different from what I'd already heard. At this point I was already thinking, had you gone out to your car and just gotten your ID, we would have been finished by now. I was SO tempted to say something to that effect, but luckily I realized that would just make the situation worse. The whole thing with the ID wasn't necessarily that he didn't want us to know who he was; it was that it was "inconvenient" for him to run out to his car to get it. I never understand why people don't carry their IDs on them at all times. What if there's a freak accident in the mall and a light fixture comes crashing down on you? (Or, perhaps, a disgruntled book clerk pushes you over the edge of the railing onto the first floor...) The authorities will have a hard time identifying your body, causing anguish to your family. Although perhaps this guy doesn't have a family and that's why he's so angry at the world. Anyway, so he's already been to our store (supposedly) twice now, and he's waited fifteen--no, twenty now--minutes for me to run around the mall, and now he's demanding the DM's phone number so he can complain about this RIGHT NOW to the DM. Right. Because you can actually reach the DM at that number. It's his voice mail. It's not often he's actually in his office.
Naturally, when I dialed the number, I got the voice mail. Naturally, this was not good enough for SAM. I hadn't listened to the voice mail this morning, so I didn't know where the DM was going to be today, but I know he mentioned his schedule for this week on the conference call Monday. I'd written down that he was going to be at his base store. Okay. I call there...and he's at another store. Great. I call there and I brief the person who answered the phone on what's going on, and eventually the DM comes on. I try to tell him what's going on, but he's on speakerphone or something and doesn't hear me. At this point R is back in the store and is gesturing for me to hand him the phone, so I do, and I use this moment to take my leave. P is in the back working on the returns list, and she stops me and is like, I am so sorry you had to deal with this. She told me what had happened before I came from the back, and then after I'd left the store. At one point during the phone calls the guy referred to me as the Assistant Manager (um, no), but P had told him I was acting as the AM. Whoa. I never thought of it that way. Between her reaction and the upgrading of my title, I suddenly felt really bad about how negatively I felt about her yesterday. If I've not mentioned it, I do like her as a person. It's as a coworker that she drives me nuts. Wow. So, we talked for a minute (with SAM looking around and sort of looking at us during that time), and I went in the back to finish my lunch.
I was in the back for at least ten minutes. It's not like I had that much left to eat, and after all that I wasn't terribly hungry, but I wanted to sit and chill for a bit as well as finish catching my breath. I was clearly panting while SAM was on the phone with R down in the kiosk. Curse me for not having much water on me today. I tried to dawdle a bit in the back. I even found a book on Festivus--you know, the made-up holiday from Seinfeld, no, seriously--but when I came out after ten/fifteen minutes, SAM was *still* there! R was finishing up the return. P and I tried to stay away from the counter at all costs, but I had to check on something from the returns list so I was near the counter toward the end. P came up to me and whispered, "I hope he never comes back!" Somehow I doubt it.
Right after all was said and done--I still don't know that SAM got his ID--R talked to us a bit about rude customers, and how the general public doesn't realize how horrible some people can be. He told us about a regular customer he has with a company he and his wife run; no matter what, this guy finds something to complain about. Seriously, this is why I cannot be a manager. I would totally tell the guy to take his business elsewhere. And the thing about R is he's a nice, easy-going guy. He has the tolerance to put up with assholes. I don't. P and I agreed that we don't get paid enough to deal with people like that. However, we were told that if a customer has a receipt, no matter when during the day it is, we must give them the money back. Take it out of the safe; give it back in all pennies. He doesn't care. Okay, fine, and I understand, but #1--He did not come in on Sunday. I don't know where he thought he was, but it was not here. I am the sort of person who would explain that, hey, when it's the first thing in the morning and I start off with $100 in my drawer, and you're trying to return $99.30 worth of merchandise, something doesn't jive. R just wants to keep the customer happy. I passed that point a long time ago. #2--What stuck in my craw was the amount. We had scam artists working their way through the area earlier in the year, and while the M.O. was different, they were working with big amounts. It is highly unusual for someone to return that volume of merchandise for that large of an amount. I'm not comfortable doing that. I am not a manager. I do not want to give an okay on that. P and I spoke later about it and we agreed that certain things did not jive. What I never understand is, why not call the store? Let us know you're coming. Explain the situation to us so we are prepared. Most of all, stay calm and rational. I understand that you're frustrated, but being a complete jerk doesn't help matters.
Eventually, I signed off on the return slip. P had overheard SAM talking to R about making sure the tax was right. (This was what she mentioned to me, what stuck out to her as odd.) Most people, when they return merchandise, don't pay attention to the tax. He knew that the tax rate was different between where he bought it and here. Funnily enough, had he not mentioned it and R not paid attention, he possibly would have gotten *more* money back, as our tax rate is higher than the other store's (6.75% to 7.5%). And the money he got back was $94 and change, so he must have kept something. Either that, or R charged him an asshole tax. :)
The SNL part that comes into play: The guy's name, or what he put on the form, is the same as that of an equally loud, pompous, and arrogant person who is well-known on TV. I will not say his name--please, do not guess it either--but Darrell Hammond does a mean impression of the guy on SNL.
While I was not able to get revenge on SAM--nay, R even gave him a 20% off coupon (great, let's reward him for his assholian behavior)--I was able to serve bookstore justice before I left. This guy was over in mags...the adult mags. He was lifting them up and looking at the covers, then putting them back. Okay, no biggie. As per my job, I walked over there and greeted him, at which point he let go of whatever porno mag he was holding. Why, yes, I do enjoy freaking out the insecure porno people. So I walk away and go behind the counter, and he's still over in the adult mags. I see him glancing over at me, so I look right at him. Then I see him pull down a mag and I hear the familiar sound of porno plastic being ripped open. Oh no you di-int. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, but when I heard it again I walked to the end of the counter by the mags, saw him pull out the mag, then said something like, please don't open the magazines. How would you like to pay for that today? Oh, my word did he start to freak out--I didn't know I couldn't open it! I just wanted to look at it! Sir, the magazines are in plastic for a reason. If you want to look at them, you need to buy them. He was all freaked out at the thought that he'd actually have to pay for it. He got saved by the phone, luckily for him. I wasn't actually going to make him pay for it, but I hoped I could guilt him into it. I did have him hand me the mag and then asked him to leave, which he did. This caused SNL moment #2--he looked like he could use the fake adult diaper, Oops! I Crapped My Pants.
Moment #3 is just me being a dork. A certain former cast member has written a kids' book, and since it's related to winter I put it up on our back wall with the other winter/holiday books. It was clear that somebody looked at it today. That just made me happy. :) He had another book, but only one of that book got sold (hmm, who could have bought it?). One mysteriously disappeared. What does it say when somebody likes you enough to steal your book, but not enough to actually pay for it? Anyway, it would be nice if someone else aside from me actually bought this new book. Personally, I am waiting for our discount days next month. Yes, I'm a fan of said person, but why not save as much money as possible?