Working
Tina Fey Syndrome
Have you ever heard of a phenomenon called “The Tina Fey Syndrome?” Basically, this is when a man finds a girl sexy because she wears small, rectangular shape eyeglasses similar to the kind that have become Fey’s trademark. Since I don’t need glasses to correct my vision, I’ve never had the chance to experience this firsthand…until today.
On a whim, my friend and I decided to buy fake glasses after seeing them on a girl that works for us and trying on her pair. They were cute, looked good, and, most importantly, they were cheap. So we popped on down to “Icings,” ’tween store extraordinaire, and tried on several pairs until we each picked ones we liked. My friend chose a black pair with rhinestones on the sides and I chose a pair in my favorite color, purple. We were both working the next day, so we agreed to wear them together.
At first it felt weird to have them on because I felt like I was looking at the world through a window. Then, all I wanted to do was look down and to the sides because I could see the frames. After about an hour, I got used to them and once customers started strolling in, their reactions were amazing.
I am not exaggerating in any way when I write that EVERY customer was super-duper nice to me. And when it’s right before Christmas and all people want to is finish their shopping and go home, no one is ever nice. I even felt like people were seeking me out to help them. It’s like the purple frames were calling to them like moths to a flame. They really listened to what I was saying, and when I had to tell them we were sold out of certain products, they all acted like it was no big deal. WOW.
And don’t even get me started on the men! Yes, they were in shopping for their wives and girlfriends, but I was feeling some good vibes from quite a few of them. They were flirty and sweet and ALL of them made and held eye contact with me during the entire time I was helping them. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed the “Tina Fey Syndrome” in action. When my friend got into work, she said her husband was ALL OVER HER after she tried her glasses on for him. It’s like the glasses hold some magical power over the peens of men everywhere!
Is it really this easy?! Is the answer to all of life’s problems solved in the form of a $10 pair of plastic spectacles? Maybe, maybe not…but I’ll be stocking up on every pair that “Icings” has on display, just in case.
The Bitch Is Back…
Once upon a time, I had a friend named Shopgirl who wrote a blog detailing all her funny stories about working in retail. The blog was called “Mall Rats” and it has been on hiatus for awhile. Well, this joyous holiday season has stirred Shopgirl out of her slumber and what can I say…the bitch is back. Click on the link above to see what retail antics Shopgirl has been dealing with this past month. Enjoy!
An Open Letter To Holiday Shoppers
Dear Holiday Shopper:
Well hello there! I haven’t seen you since last Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, or whatever holiday brings you into my store at this magical time of year. You are not my regular customer, who knows our products and where to find them like the back of their hand. No, you are coming into my store to buy a gift for our loyal shoppers. You look weary, you have a list in your hand, painstakingly written with all the goodies you need to buy your loved ones so they think you care. And that’s where I come in… to help you make the perfect purchase. But let me give you some tips so we can all make this process a little smoother.
Number one, I am NOT your personal shopper. Yes, I will show you where to find the right product, but you are not the only customer in my store. That means I have to help EVERYONE, not just you. You are perfectly capable of picking up a product and seeing how much it costs. Please don’t just point to product after product and ask me how much it is. You are also capable of smelling all the products for yourself. I DO NOT need to open every bottle of lotion we sell and hold it up to your nose. Are your hands broken? I think not.
Number two, if you are going to come to the mall on a Saturday, please think of your fellow shoppers and leave your kids at home. DO NOT bring a giant stroller into our already crowded store, then get pissed that you can’t easily maneuver it around. That is YOUR problem, not ours. Also, no one wants to hear your baby screaming. Holiday shopping is already tense enough without adding ear-piercing shrieks to the mix. Try picking your child up and comforting them, instead of just ignoring their cries for help.
Number three, PAY WITH CASH, CREDIT OR DEBIT. DO NOT WRITE CHECKS! They take too much time to write and there is a line piling up behind you. If you must write a check, start filling it out while I’m ringing everything up. Do not aimlessly stare at me, wait to hear the total, THEN get your damn checkbook out. It’s the little things people!!! Am I asking too much?!
Number four, when there is only a week left until Christmas DO NOT get mad at me because we are sold out of something. It’s not my fault that everyone else was more organized than you and actually bought their presents in a timely manner. You also don’t need to tell me to order more, because that’s not at all how our system works. We don’t “order” anything, dumbass. Oh, and guess what? The point of having seasonal products is so that we sell out of them before Christmas. Duh! Maybe I’ll come to your place of business sometime and tell you how to run things…does that sound like fun? No? THEN SHUT YOUR MOUTH!
Number five, my store is not your house. Please put things back where they belong. I am not your mother or your maid. Thank you.
Above all else, be nice to me and my staff. As tired and grumpy as you may be running around and dealing with last minute Christmas shopping, remember that we have been dealing with THOUSANDS of crazed customers for the last month. We’ve been on our feet, working extended hours, dealing with hundreds of boxes of shipment, making complicated schedules, training dozens of new associates and all the while doing it with a smile on our faces (however fake and forced those smiles may be by now). Remember folks, kindness is the only thing you don’t have to pay for this holiday season.
Let’s just get through this next week, okay?
Sincerely,
Brooke Amanda
The Poop Stops Here
I’ve had to deal with a lot of shit at work, but one day, I literally had to deal with shit at work. I was minding my own business and selling overpriced makeup at the Lancome counter when an odd looking lady in a wheelchair rolled up across the aisle to the Elizabeth Arden counter.
She was a hot mess. She was about 50ish and just had that “I’m a crazy person” vibe written all over her. The big clue was the fact her wheelchair had the name of the hospital on it which was right across the street from the mall. Did she roll out of her hospital bed and wheel herself across the street to get a makeover? Hmm… Gretel (the girl working the Arden counter) was very nice to Hot Mess and showed her a few things. Gretel was talking to her for about five minutes when all of a sudden, I started to smell something fowl. I looked over and there was a river of brown liquid all over the tile floor in front of the Arden counter. Hot Mess had just shit her pants!
I don’t know the exact conversation that occurred between Gretel and Hot Mess, but the next thing I knew, Gretel was rolling her over to the elevators which were all the way in the back of the store. A steady stream of pooh flowed behind Hot Mess like freaking lava. Everyone became engulfed in the river of vile before they realized what it was. Which meant that they were tracking it on the tile AND the carpet so the whole store smelled like one big diaper genie that hadn’t been emptied for a month.
The cosmetic girls started franticly spraying perfume everywhere to cover up the smell, but all that did was make it smell like shitty perfume. Gretel was gone for a good half hour and when she came back, she told us the horror that had occured in the bathroom. To this day, I can’t imagine what that poor girl went through. First, she wheeled Hot Mess into the handicapped stall and got some paper towels to try and clean her up. But the shit was too deeply saturated in her clothes, so Hot Mess gave Gretel her credit card and told her to just go and buy her a new outfit. Gretel bought the new clothes, then came back to the bathroom, CUT Hot Mess’s clothes off of her, gave her a make shift sponge bath, then got her dressed again.
By the time they left the handicapped stall, there was fecal matter smeared all over the place, so maintenance had to shut the whole bathroom down to clean it. I can’t believe Gretel was nice enough to do all that because there is no way in hell I would ever clean up a shitty stranger. We didn’t get paid nearly enough to do something that disgusting. A couple of days later, Hot Mess came (walking) in and told Gretel how thankful she was that she had done all that for her. Why in God’s name would you EVER show your face in the department store you had just shit your pants in?! I think I would move to another state just so I wouldn’t fun the risk of seeing anyone who had witnessed me poop myself. That, thankfully, was the last anyone ever saw of Ms. Hot Mess McShitty Pants.
The Ripping O’ The Pubes
For most of my life I have worked in retail. It started out as a part-time job while I was in college and it turned into a full blown career. For most of that time, I worked in the cosmetic department of a large retail store. Yes, I was one of those women who tries to get you to dip into your 401(k) to buy hundreds of dollars worth of products to avoid the unavoidable aging process. My love of make-up and skincare led me to go to school to become an esthetician. My parents still cannot pronounce that word.
After I graduated from cosmetology school, I worked at a pretty well known salon/dayspa in our area. I performed all kind of services and loved doing most of them. I repeat, most of them. The one thing I hated was waxing. I didn’t mind doing facial waxing, but body waxing was another story. Here’s a list of my all-time yuckiest clients and what they made me do to them.
1. “Robby.” Robby was a young kid, maybe 20 yrs. old, who was so painfully shy, his MOTHER called to make the appointment for him. She told me on the phone that Robby was quite hairy and embarassed about it. She thought it would boost his self-esteem to have his back waxed. Yes, mom, great idea! For a kid who is already socially awkward, getting naked in front of a pretty young girl so she can rip off his disgusting body hair will ABSOLUTLY boost his self-worth. His mom didn’t lie about Robby being hairy. This kid must have been the illegitimate offspring of Robin Williams and Bigfoot. I actually had to trim his jet black back hair with scissors first because it was so long! And the fact that he was sweating profusly the entire time meant the wax wouldn’t stick so it took FOREVER. Plus, the hair follicles started bleeding so it was a bloody, sweaty, waxy fucking mess. At the end of our TWO HOUR session, my white lab coat was completely covered in his back hair. As I swept up the MOUND of hair on the floor I considered donating that shit to make wigs for kids with cancer. My gag reflex is kicking in as I am writing and reliving this whole ordeal. I wanted to shower immediately after he left. Sidenote- Robby never came back for his follow-up waxing.
2. “Karen.” Karen was a regular bikini wax client who made one major mistake. You would think one would wear their Sunday best panties when they visit their waxer, just like I hope you would for the gyno. Right? Wrong! Every damn time that Karen came in she would wear urine stained panties. Why, God, why?! I guess I should have just been grateful that it was not blood. In fact, the other esthetician who worked there once had a client’s tampon string flop out while she was waxing her. Gross!
3. This guy wasn’t a client, but he called and asked me if I did sac waxes. As in SCROTUM SAC! When I told him I didn’t do those, he then asked if I would wax his ass. My reply? Click.
4. Back to bikini waxes. Now, this is a delicate subject because I respect a big girl’s right to keep her coochie nice and tidy, but it does make it hard to wax when the person is morbidly obese. I had a couple of BIG girls that I waxed and I would try and be as nice as possible about it. “Um, yes, would you mind pulling your FUPA** up just a bit so I can actually get to your pubic hair? Okay, maybe try raising your leg up. Or maybe try the butterfly position. Hmm, that’s not working, either. Maybe if you just squat down, it will spread everything open and I can just slide right in there with my wax.” I mean, come on! I’d have these girls in damn yoga positions. And if you’re that fat, who is looking at your cooch anyway? I’m sure they’re just getting tapped from behind, but what do I know?
I’m sooo glad I don’t do that for a living anymore. God bless the waxers of the world! You go through a living hell everyday just so people can feel a little less shitty about their disgusting bodies. Salute!
**Fat Upper Pussy Area
