Tales from Retail
The last few shifts at work have been dizzyingly busy. I stay in my little pen of display cases and just move from person to person to person. Overall, I'll say that 99.9% of my customers have been amazingly decent to me.
Two exceptions:
First: At one point I had at least a dozen people lined up at my register and people all around the counters. I was dealing with the customers one at a time, rather deftly (in my own opinion.) Except, one guy kept popping up like an entitled jack-in-the-box to ask me, " One quick question . . . " Of course, the questions were not quick. Directing you to the bathroom is quick; unlocking a case to give you the price of the little pearl ring in the back is not quick.
On the fourth quick question, I snapped. I glared over my glasses and, in my most disapproving librarian voice crossed with mean mommy voice, I said, "Sir. You need to wait your turn."
His abashment was gratifying, but his kid's reaction was even sweeter: "Dad, she SCHOOLED YOU!"
Second: This guy keeps coming in to look at engagement rings, which is fine. The part that isn't fine is that a) he feels compelled to tell me just how much cheaper they are at WalMart; and b) he keeps coming back. I finally channeled my inner Steel Magnolia and said, "Bless your heart, hon. We don't match prices." First sentence in honeyed belle tones; second sentence in bored deadpan. It felt so good I wanted a cigarette after.
Two exceptions:
First: At one point I had at least a dozen people lined up at my register and people all around the counters. I was dealing with the customers one at a time, rather deftly (in my own opinion.) Except, one guy kept popping up like an entitled jack-in-the-box to ask me, " One quick question . . . " Of course, the questions were not quick. Directing you to the bathroom is quick; unlocking a case to give you the price of the little pearl ring in the back is not quick.
On the fourth quick question, I snapped. I glared over my glasses and, in my most disapproving librarian voice crossed with mean mommy voice, I said, "Sir. You need to wait your turn."
His abashment was gratifying, but his kid's reaction was even sweeter: "Dad, she SCHOOLED YOU!"
Second: This guy keeps coming in to look at engagement rings, which is fine. The part that isn't fine is that a) he feels compelled to tell me just how much cheaper they are at WalMart; and b) he keeps coming back. I finally channeled my inner Steel Magnolia and said, "Bless your heart, hon. We don't match prices." First sentence in honeyed belle tones; second sentence in bored deadpan. It felt so good I wanted a cigarette after.