I had not been working in Retail Hell very long, and mostly had only
HEARD stories of the Almighty Crazy Custy... then I started to
encounter this strange breed myself.
I will tell four stories of
insanity, one story not actually witnessed by me (I was in the front of
the store and this took place in the back) but by the rest of the
store.
The store in all three of these stories is a female clothing
store that has juniors in the front and left, with lingerie behind,
with the dressing rooms behind that. The middle is dresses, then sales,
then checkout. The right is plus, then shoes, then jewelry.
We
have about 10 fitting rooms located in the back of the store, and are
usually only about half full at any given time.
There are a group of
about 5 Asian women (and I'm not racist, but everyone has heard the
stereotype that Asians are supposed to be SMART) in the middle of the
store, looking at Clearance Jeans.
They all approach me as a mob, and
ask "Dressing room please, miss?"
I point at it (It has a HUGE sign
over it, as well as "only 3 items at a time" around the doorway) and
they walk over, each holding two armloads of jeans. I tell them that
they can only bring three items in a time, and point at the sign.
They
walk back over to the middle and I assume they are going to put some
back and I go to help another customer.
A few minutes later, as I'm
heading back to the fitting room to check on them, I walk past the
middle, then stop dead.
The five Asian women are in the middle of the
store, taking of their clothes and trying the clothing on right in the
middle of the store, no the main aisle!
I pointed at the fitting room
repeatedly and try to get them to put their clothing back on.
They all
just keep nodding and smiling and saying "Yes, fitting, thank you miss!
Jeans!"
I give up, noticing with a laugh that they are all changing
directly in front of a security camera.
* * * *
On
a different day, a woman asks to go in the fitting
room.
I outline the three-items rule and she puts two on the counter
and takes the other three in, which is perfectly acceptable.
She storms
out, nearly purple in the face. "Miss, miss! You must help me!"
I go in
and she angrily goes up to the door and opens it.
"There's no lock!"
I
calmly explain that the fitting rooms don't have locks here, for safety
reasons.
She calms down slightly, thanks me, then goes to the next one.
I'm about to leave when, purple again, she shrieks, "There's no lock on
this one either!"
I explain to her again that none of them have locks.
She does this for another four of the stalls...
* * * *
A
very obese woman comes in looking for tights.
I point her to the
plus-size tights and wander off. I later see her at the juniors-size
tights, looking at a neon yellow-green size small pair of tights
covered in gaudy rhinestones.
We are not allowed to point out sizes (so
they don't complain that we called them fat) so I say nothing.
She goes
into the fitting room.
She comes out SCREECHING.
The pants are only
fitting about halfway up her butt and then simply stopping because
they've stretched so far left-to-right and back-to-front that there is
simply no more material to go up.
Since they show half of her rear,
it's also painfully obvious that she is NOT wearing underwear.
She
yells at me about the size being wrong, ending with her screaming that
"if I bent over right now, these would rip".
She then bent over, and
yes they, ripped, exposing her nether regions to me.
I convince her to
put a skirt on top quickly, pay for both, and usher her out of the
store as quickly as possible.
I decided it was time for my lunch break.
Sitting in the Chinese place, she walked in, got food, sat down behind
me, and held a full conversation WITH HERSELF about bra sizes.
* * * *
This
story I did not actually witness, but a is a story about friend of mine
(a manager).
The manager (a 7-month pregnant girl who also has a
thyroid problem, which means her hormones are very much fired up) has
already been working 6 hours with no break, except for 3 separate times
throughout the day she had to vomit in the backroom.
Already agitated,
sick, tired and frustrated, she didn't want to deal with a child, but
had no choice as I was on "Front Cover Duty", meaning I was to stand in
the front and attack ever customer with "Hello, welcome to *******, can
I help you find anything today?"
A black woman and her daughter come
into the store. Keep in mind two of the three store managers, both
assistant managers, and half the employees are black.
I say my thing,
they ask for the clearance, and I point them to it.
A few minutes
later, my manager watches as the woman picks up a dress, puts it on the
floor in the MIDDLE of the clearance, and put hers daughter down on it
"for a nap", where an elderly woman with a walker almost falls over her
and breaks her neck.
Manager: Ma'am, you can't let your child lay there?
Woman: Why the f**k not!?
Manager: One, she's in the way. Two, she's drooling all over our clothing.
Woman: That's MY dress! I'm buying it!
Manager: Have you paid for it yet?
Woman: NO!
Manager: Then it's not yours.
Woman: F**k you, get me the manager!
Manager: Ma'am, I AM the manager.
Woman: No you're not! I'm going to wait until after you are done, hide
behind your car until you get there, then slash your throat!!
Manager:
*loses all patience and sanity at her life being threatened" I'm
calling security! Get your f**king kid off our f**king clothes and get
the f**k out of my store, and don't you come back!
Woman: I'm not leaving you dumb c**t! I'm going to kill you! I'm GOING TO F**KING KILL YOU!
Manager: GET THE F**K OUT OF MY STORE, YOU BALD-HEADED AFRICAN! *throws shoe at woman*
Manager was sent home early, no warnings, while the woman was taken to security.
I still wonder how it ended.
--Chris
