That's Right! Retail is Boring.

I stared at the pile of scarves that had been dumped over the candy counter. REALLY? I had just folded them on their hangers and replaced them moments ago. Fold, twist, wrap, hang, fold twist wrap, hang—the pattern for displaying the scarves properly was a bit of a nuisance, why couldn't people just look at them where they hung?

"Oh, YOU are the one hanging up the scarves!" An accusing voice from behind me interrupted my work.

I turned to see a woman standing behind me with that odd , forced smile. You know the one; it's the same smile as when a teacher, or a mother catches you doing something wrong and scolds you while smiling. She reached around me and began to undo the scarves.

"I keep trying to look at these, and someone kept hanging them back up! I have to see them fully open to know if I like them or not!"

"Humm..." was all I could think to respond with.

"Well," she smiled at me patronizingly, "You just work retail. I'm sure you need something to do anyway."

I walked away, fighting off images of tying those same scarves deliciously tight around that woman's neck. 

You are Right, I Deserve Better.

"Can you help me? I really need to know if this is a crazy idea or not?" The woman approached my coworker.

"Sure!" She answered, "Let's hear it. I like hearing crazy ideas!"

The woman's face immediately changed. "No. Never mind. If you are not going to take me seriously I don't want to work with you. I will ask another employee. You really don't deserve to work here."

Lady, that was one of our most knowledgeable, creative, and enthusiastic employees. Had you not been so abrasive, I am sure she would have helped you pull off your zany idea with more panache than you could have imagined. Just so we are clear, you don't deserve to shop here. Aaaaand—"Have a Nice Day."

My, What a Loud Voice You Have Grandmother!

"I have a question for you—I need to find out if you have a product or not." the elderly lady stood in front of my counter, smiling and asking questions about our inventory. I answered her questions, and directed her to someone who could help her further. It was a pretty normal exchange.

 Before she walked away she said "Thank you, you are nice. I can't let you have TOO nice of a day though, so I am going to be one of THOSE customers just to keep you on your toes." That's when she began yapping like a Chihuahua at me. That's right, before God and the rest of creation an old woman barked like a dog at me. True Story.

We are all Human

To the two women staring and glaring at the bi-racial couple in the checkout line ahead of them: You were so focused on broadcasting your own icy disapproval, you failed to realize that you were the recipients of ours. I was even giving you my best "glowering sneer" as you paid, but you both were too busy whispering and gawking as the couple left the store to notice. It's a new millennium ladies—time to move on.

Feathers aren't My Style

"Excuse me, I brought this dress in the store with me; It's mine. I just wanted to match some things to it." She said to me, waving a thrift store bag in my direction to prove her point.

"Oh that is just fine Ma'am," I said, returning to my work.

"Well? Aren't you going to help me?" She indignantly responded.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you needed me. How can I help?"

"Hold up this, like you are wearing it so I can see what it looks like." She unfurled a tragic looking black, synthetic T-dress adorned with yellow, green, and red peacock feather print.

"I'm sorry, you—you want me to—"

"Hold it right like this!" She pressed it against my shoulders. She produced long stemmed peacock feathers and began to position them on the left breast. "I just need to glue a few of these on, won't it be lovely?"

"It will be—uh, definitely unique Ma'am."

There I stood, modeling a dress in the middle of the store for the enjoyment of my coworkers, passing customers, and one particularly direct lady.

At a Loss for Words

I rounded the corner of the isle to find him staring intently at the product hanging before him. Hands clasped behind his back and a quizzical look on his face.

Me: "Are you finding everything alright sir?"

Customer: "Eeeh---" He nodded while shrugging in a confused manner, "Poketty poketty poo."

Me:"Ummmmm.....Oh."

I walked away to the far side of the store. True story.

Of Cheetahs and Entitlement

"Okay so my child has to make a Cheetah for a class project. Do you have a kit or something?"

My co-worker looked up from her work. "We don't have a kit exactly, but we do have plenty of items you could use to make one if you wanted. What kind of Cheetah are you making?"

"There is only one kind. Duh!" The child rolled her eyes.

"Hum, have you researched this yet? Because there are several species—" she began to reply.

"No there is only one! It has spots!" the child interrupted.

"Okay then—let me show you our clay, glue and paper."

"Actually" the mother interjected "It's due tomorrow. Can you just make it for us?"

"No Ma'am, we don't actually do craft projects, we just sell the supplies."

"But it's due tomorrow!" The mother insisted.

"...I'm...sorry..."

"Well sorry doesn't help me out! I want to speak to your manager. I need someone to make this!"

"Yes Ma'am, let me get one for you if you will just wait right here..." She gingerly stepped around the woman, avoiding any sudden moves that might further provoke the ravaging entitlement from within.