I worked on checkout the last couple days. They were short and I wanted to extra hours, so I volunteered to cover a shift or two. Working the floor seems to be much more plentiful in "OH MY GOD" moments, but Checkout had its perks too.
For example, yesterday, a man came through my line and purchased condoms, Maxim, and various food items. And shortly after that, I sold KY Intense to an older couple, all while making innocent small talk.
I also had my first experience with someone getting angry at me for offering him a rewards card. The 'mart just started this program, actually a couple of months ago, much like a County Market Max card, or like the Shopko rewards program. We scan the card when they come through, and they earn 1% back for everything they purchase, and can also win instant prizes. Now, I realize that 1% is actually pretty pitiful--you have to spend $1000 to earn $10. But, it's still not hurting you to sign up, unless you don't want to give out your personal information, which is completely understandable.
Now, when working checkout, we are required to ask everyone if they have a rewards card, and if not, ask them to sign up for the program (and we are required to get 10% of the people that come through our lane signed up). Most people offer a polite, yet disinterested "no," or ask more about the program and then eventually sign up. But not this guy. I asked if they had a card, his wife said no, and that she hadn't even heard of the program. So I explained the basics to her. She turned to her husband and asked if he wanted to sign up, and he yelled, "WHAT?" So I repeated the benefits of the program to him. Then he looked at me, honestly angry and said, "One percent back? That's not worth a damn. My god damn time is worth more than that."
I said they were in no obligation to sign up, and if they changed their minds, they could always enroll at a later date. He proceeded to mutter under his breath, but still loud enough for me to hear, about how stupid it was, and not worth it, and ridiculous and just kept repeating, "My time is worth more than that."
I'm not quite sure what he meant by that, either. Unless he was trying to say that it wasn't worth his time to sign up for such pitiful savings, but it seriously takes less than a minute because I just type it all into the computer and skip the paper application.
But whatever. Other people get mad at me because they misread signs and are getting charged more than they want to be, and he gets mad because the store won't give him back more free money than he thinks his time is worth.
I hate money. I hate not having it, I hate fighting with people over it. I hate the stress it causes. We should just switch back to a barter system. I have a lot of useless crap I could exchange for other useless crap.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
And now, our feature presentation.
Okay, now that I've at least slightly recovered from my emotional breakdown, I'll get back to the reason anyone reads this: the real stories of working in retail.
A woman called my boss a bitch, a fuckin' ho, and told her not to "fuckin talk to my son." And then she yelled loudly so anyone in range could hear (not that there was, because, really, who goes to KMart?) that she wasn't giving us "another damn dime," and she was "fucking going to Walmart." And all in front of her two young sons, one a toddler, and another who looked to be around 7 or 8.
We both smiled and wished her a nice day.
Earlier that same day, a man got furious at me, another girl in my department, and then my boss, because we didn't have the stroller his daughter wanted in stock, and we refused to sell him the display piece (on which, he actually cut the zip-ties holding it to the display area, and got it down on the floor, along with 4 other pieces). We can't sell display pieces, it's company policy because of liability issues. He screamed that we "just lost a sale," and when none of us seemed to care, he yelled it again, "In case you didn't hear me, YOU JUST LOST A SALE." My boss responded with, "Oh, I heard you. I just don't care. Leave the store now, please. And have a good afternoon."
Quite priceless. That same day, another girl in my department, who is 6 months pregnant, got called a "good-for-nothing fat bitch" because she didn't see a man waiting to look at a watch in the locked case, and waited on another customer first.
The things these people think are a matter of life and death astound me.
A woman called my boss a bitch, a fuckin' ho, and told her not to "fuckin talk to my son." And then she yelled loudly so anyone in range could hear (not that there was, because, really, who goes to KMart?) that she wasn't giving us "another damn dime," and she was "fucking going to Walmart." And all in front of her two young sons, one a toddler, and another who looked to be around 7 or 8.
We both smiled and wished her a nice day.
Earlier that same day, a man got furious at me, another girl in my department, and then my boss, because we didn't have the stroller his daughter wanted in stock, and we refused to sell him the display piece (on which, he actually cut the zip-ties holding it to the display area, and got it down on the floor, along with 4 other pieces). We can't sell display pieces, it's company policy because of liability issues. He screamed that we "just lost a sale," and when none of us seemed to care, he yelled it again, "In case you didn't hear me, YOU JUST LOST A SALE." My boss responded with, "Oh, I heard you. I just don't care. Leave the store now, please. And have a good afternoon."
Quite priceless. That same day, another girl in my department, who is 6 months pregnant, got called a "good-for-nothing fat bitch" because she didn't see a man waiting to look at a watch in the locked case, and waited on another customer first.
The things these people think are a matter of life and death astound me.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
My bright is too slight to hold back all my dark.
I finally broke down last night. After months of frustration, anger, and hopelessness, I sobbed until my pillow was soaked.
I'm so sick of this job, and living paycheck to paycheck. We have $32 to our name right now. $32.
We have another paycheck on Monday, and then another 2 on Friday. But it's not going to make this any better. Because every last dime of it will be spent on rent, loans, and utilities. Then, we might have a little left over for groceries, if we clip coupons and eat spaghetti at least twice a week.
And then by this time next month, I'll probably be sobbing into my pillow again, worried about the bills, blaming myself for not being able to find a better paying, or at least a full-time, job. It's a bit ridiculous really. And after breaking down last night, I've moved on to being incredibly angry about it.
I have a mother-loving Masters degree. I have bled and cried to put myself through school, earn top grades, be involved, and work 3 jobs. And all I have to show for it is a part-time teaching job that pays shittier than my part-time KMart job. And it finally came crashing down last night.
I don't want to have to live like this, choosing between being late for a loan payment or buying groceries. Having to ask myself before I bake something, "Can I afford to replace the flour I'll use?" Before I drive to visit my parents, "Will I use too much gas so that I won't be able to drive to work on Monday and I can't get gas until after payday next week?"
When I turn the lights on at night, I wonder if I could stand the dark just a little bit more, if it meant keeping the electric bill down. Or if we couldn't keep the house just a degree or two cooler, when we're already walking around with sweaters and two pairs of socks on, cuddling under blankets.
I'm on the verge of losing it, for real. My husband hasn't gone to the eye doctor in almost 4 years, his glasses are permantly scratched and he can hardly see through them. I haven't been in 2 years. We haven't been to the dentist in at least 3, and we both need a thorough checkup, but we can't even afford our insurance's copays. If anything serious were to happen, we'd be screwed.
We're waiting for our internet contract to run out, so we can cancel it. As soon as we can get all the numbers changed, we're cancelling the landline. We're hoping for cash for our upcoming birthdays so we can pay off the credit cards we've had to use to buy necessities or gas when we've run out of cash.
I'm ready to cancel anything that is not imperative: internet, Dish, landline. I've even considered not renewing our cell phone contract and buying a pay-as-you-go phone. No one ever calls me anyway. I walk to work (at KMart) when it's freezing rain and below zero outside, so I don't have to use gas.
I've watched all these shows about being in debt and cutting back, and honestly, I envy those people. There's people on there who have more cars than drivers in their house, who go out to eat 3 or 4 times a week, who have shopping problems and can't control their spending, who have to cut their number of hair appointments from every 2 weeks to every 4.
I haven't even gotten my hair cut in almost a year, because I can't justify spending $20 which would pay for my dog's food for a month.
We have cut almost as much as we can, and we're still drowning. The natural solution, to me, would be to make more. Find a higher paying job. Full-time would be higher-paying for me, at this point. But how? I've tried. I counted today, I have about 20-25 resumes saved on my computer, all ones that have been sent out in the last 6 months. How many interviews have I gotten? Two. Maybe three.
And all places, except KMart, have hired people with less qualifications and less experience than me. All the other places may not have even looked at my resume. For all I know, it went straight into the recycle bin. I've called to follow up, I've sent thank-you notes to interviewers, I've tried to hand in my resume in person as often as possible. Nothing.
I'm still sitting here, drowning in bills, powerless to change anything.
And now I'm really wondering why. I said in an earlier post that I believe God always has a plan. That I'm always where I'm meant to be, I just don't find out until later why. But it's later. And now would be a good time for the Man Upstairs to enlighten me, because I'm really losing hope.
I'm so sick of this job, and living paycheck to paycheck. We have $32 to our name right now. $32.
We have another paycheck on Monday, and then another 2 on Friday. But it's not going to make this any better. Because every last dime of it will be spent on rent, loans, and utilities. Then, we might have a little left over for groceries, if we clip coupons and eat spaghetti at least twice a week.
And then by this time next month, I'll probably be sobbing into my pillow again, worried about the bills, blaming myself for not being able to find a better paying, or at least a full-time, job. It's a bit ridiculous really. And after breaking down last night, I've moved on to being incredibly angry about it.
I have a mother-loving Masters degree. I have bled and cried to put myself through school, earn top grades, be involved, and work 3 jobs. And all I have to show for it is a part-time teaching job that pays shittier than my part-time KMart job. And it finally came crashing down last night.
I don't want to have to live like this, choosing between being late for a loan payment or buying groceries. Having to ask myself before I bake something, "Can I afford to replace the flour I'll use?" Before I drive to visit my parents, "Will I use too much gas so that I won't be able to drive to work on Monday and I can't get gas until after payday next week?"
When I turn the lights on at night, I wonder if I could stand the dark just a little bit more, if it meant keeping the electric bill down. Or if we couldn't keep the house just a degree or two cooler, when we're already walking around with sweaters and two pairs of socks on, cuddling under blankets.
I'm on the verge of losing it, for real. My husband hasn't gone to the eye doctor in almost 4 years, his glasses are permantly scratched and he can hardly see through them. I haven't been in 2 years. We haven't been to the dentist in at least 3, and we both need a thorough checkup, but we can't even afford our insurance's copays. If anything serious were to happen, we'd be screwed.
We're waiting for our internet contract to run out, so we can cancel it. As soon as we can get all the numbers changed, we're cancelling the landline. We're hoping for cash for our upcoming birthdays so we can pay off the credit cards we've had to use to buy necessities or gas when we've run out of cash.
I'm ready to cancel anything that is not imperative: internet, Dish, landline. I've even considered not renewing our cell phone contract and buying a pay-as-you-go phone. No one ever calls me anyway. I walk to work (at KMart) when it's freezing rain and below zero outside, so I don't have to use gas.
I've watched all these shows about being in debt and cutting back, and honestly, I envy those people. There's people on there who have more cars than drivers in their house, who go out to eat 3 or 4 times a week, who have shopping problems and can't control their spending, who have to cut their number of hair appointments from every 2 weeks to every 4.
I haven't even gotten my hair cut in almost a year, because I can't justify spending $20 which would pay for my dog's food for a month.
We have cut almost as much as we can, and we're still drowning. The natural solution, to me, would be to make more. Find a higher paying job. Full-time would be higher-paying for me, at this point. But how? I've tried. I counted today, I have about 20-25 resumes saved on my computer, all ones that have been sent out in the last 6 months. How many interviews have I gotten? Two. Maybe three.
And all places, except KMart, have hired people with less qualifications and less experience than me. All the other places may not have even looked at my resume. For all I know, it went straight into the recycle bin. I've called to follow up, I've sent thank-you notes to interviewers, I've tried to hand in my resume in person as often as possible. Nothing.
I'm still sitting here, drowning in bills, powerless to change anything.
And now I'm really wondering why. I said in an earlier post that I believe God always has a plan. That I'm always where I'm meant to be, I just don't find out until later why. But it's later. And now would be a good time for the Man Upstairs to enlighten me, because I'm really losing hope.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
One of my many (and admittedly, stupid) pet peeves.
I have to sound off for just a brief moment about something completely unrelated to my glamorous job.
If you are a woman, and you drive around a Ford Explorer, or a Suburban, or any other form of gas-guzzling, ozone-destroying SUV, you ARE NOT, I repeat, you ARE NOT, driving a truck. Understanding this, you should never put a sticker on your vehicle that says, "Silly boys. Trucks are for girls." Regardless of whether or not that is a valid statement, you have no business putting that on your NOT-TRUCK.
Stickers like that are reserved for the bad-ass females who drive around a hoss of truck bigger and louder than any man's. They are not for your soccer mobile.
If you are a woman, and you drive around a Ford Explorer, or a Suburban, or any other form of gas-guzzling, ozone-destroying SUV, you ARE NOT, I repeat, you ARE NOT, driving a truck. Understanding this, you should never put a sticker on your vehicle that says, "Silly boys. Trucks are for girls." Regardless of whether or not that is a valid statement, you have no business putting that on your NOT-TRUCK.
Stickers like that are reserved for the bad-ass females who drive around a hoss of truck bigger and louder than any man's. They are not for your soccer mobile.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Sweet dreams are made of these.
Two little bits of awesome from the 'mart today:
1. Regional managers are coming in on Friday. Thank heavens I don't have to work tomorrow or Friday, which means I'm not going to be either a) running around like mad trying to detail, straighten, and clean anything I can find, or b) worried about being on my best behavior. Alas, it did mean that I spent at least half of my shift on checkout today scrubbing grime off the floor, polishing the sign holders in the foyer, dusting the candy and toy machines, and wiping down all surfaces I could reasonably do while not getting too far away from my register.
2. I was walking from the service desk to my register to pull my money for the girl coming in after me (it's about 3:27, I was supposed to be off at 3:30) and what should happen? Complete power outage. Which meant, of course, that all registers went down. They can only be brought up 2 at a time, in a specific order. Thank god mine was the second to go up. But then my screen froze. So I had to reboot it twice. Then I had to wait for all the other registers to go up before it was time to reboot the sporting goods register, where the time clock was, on which I had to punch out. I left at 4 PM. (So, an extra 30 minutes? During a week when my hours were drastically cut, I'm not going to complain. It was more of a pain in the butt than anything.)
Now I'm at home, waiting for my hubby to get here so we can spend some quality time together this evening. And by quality, I mean peanut butter cups, sweet tea, and bad t.v.
The stuff dreams are made of. :)
1. Regional managers are coming in on Friday. Thank heavens I don't have to work tomorrow or Friday, which means I'm not going to be either a) running around like mad trying to detail, straighten, and clean anything I can find, or b) worried about being on my best behavior. Alas, it did mean that I spent at least half of my shift on checkout today scrubbing grime off the floor, polishing the sign holders in the foyer, dusting the candy and toy machines, and wiping down all surfaces I could reasonably do while not getting too far away from my register.
2. I was walking from the service desk to my register to pull my money for the girl coming in after me (it's about 3:27, I was supposed to be off at 3:30) and what should happen? Complete power outage. Which meant, of course, that all registers went down. They can only be brought up 2 at a time, in a specific order. Thank god mine was the second to go up. But then my screen froze. So I had to reboot it twice. Then I had to wait for all the other registers to go up before it was time to reboot the sporting goods register, where the time clock was, on which I had to punch out. I left at 4 PM. (So, an extra 30 minutes? During a week when my hours were drastically cut, I'm not going to complain. It was more of a pain in the butt than anything.)
Now I'm at home, waiting for my hubby to get here so we can spend some quality time together this evening. And by quality, I mean peanut butter cups, sweet tea, and bad t.v.
The stuff dreams are made of. :)
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Urine Good Company
A woman came to the layaway counter yesterday, reeking of cat urine. It took me awhile to place it, but after a minute, I realized it was, indeed, the distinctive odor of old cat urine. She proceeded to put a fry daddy, 2 packages of underwear, 1 pair of pants, and a STACK of at least 15-20 magazines on layaway.
It was all a bit . . . unsettling.
It was all a bit . . . unsettling.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
I'd like an order of fries, with a side of stupid.
Okay, so, I'm straightening shoes (doesn't that sound the most exciting thing in the world?!) and this guy comes up to me asks, redneck accent and all, if a size 13 boy's shoe is the same as the size 3.
Say what?
I tried to explain that a size 13 is one size, and a 3 is a completely different size. He just kept repeating himself, saying that he was looking for a size 3, but found a 13 and thought maybe they were the same thing. Over and over and over.
I finally asked him to show me which shoe he was talking about. He walked me over to them, and said he couldn't find a 3, so he thought if he got a 13, it would be the same.
WHY? BECAUSE THEY BOTH END IN 3?
I explain again that a 13 is not the same as a 3, that in kids' shoes, it's actually smaller and that there are several sizes in between. He then asks if he could get another size then, because he didn't see any 3s. I look down at the shelf, and see 2 size 3s. I pulled one off the shelf and handed it to him. He thanked me and asked me AGAIN if I was sure that the 13 and 3 weren't the same because, "the bottom of his shoe said 3." Why we were still having the conversation at that point, I don't know, because he was standing there with the 3 in his hands. But, I suppose if I hadn't simply wished him a nice day and walked away, I'd probably still be standing there, listening to him tell me that the shoe had a 3 on the bottom of it, and that's what he wants, but he thought a 13 and 3 were the same.
Final thought: Wow. That really happened.
Say what?
I tried to explain that a size 13 is one size, and a 3 is a completely different size. He just kept repeating himself, saying that he was looking for a size 3, but found a 13 and thought maybe they were the same thing. Over and over and over.
I finally asked him to show me which shoe he was talking about. He walked me over to them, and said he couldn't find a 3, so he thought if he got a 13, it would be the same.
WHY? BECAUSE THEY BOTH END IN 3?
I explain again that a 13 is not the same as a 3, that in kids' shoes, it's actually smaller and that there are several sizes in between. He then asks if he could get another size then, because he didn't see any 3s. I look down at the shelf, and see 2 size 3s. I pulled one off the shelf and handed it to him. He thanked me and asked me AGAIN if I was sure that the 13 and 3 weren't the same because, "the bottom of his shoe said 3." Why we were still having the conversation at that point, I don't know, because he was standing there with the 3 in his hands. But, I suppose if I hadn't simply wished him a nice day and walked away, I'd probably still be standing there, listening to him tell me that the shoe had a 3 on the bottom of it, and that's what he wants, but he thought a 13 and 3 were the same.
Final thought: Wow. That really happened.
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