A quick lil' post, donchano.
Yesterday, at work, I get this call:
mumple: How many I direct your call?
caller: I dunno. Maybe you can help me. *pause* Do you carry those strap on things?
m: *jaw just a-hanging
caller: Like for on your shoes in the ice.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Language Lessons
For the record, I do not speak Idiot. I hear it--I am surrounded by it--but mostly, I do not understand, nor do I speak it.
And everything seems to happen in that last 10 minutes before you're supposed to punch out and walk away.
That being said, at the very end of my work shift, seconds before my coverage got there, a man walks up to me and says, "How do I get that salt outside?"
Which, of course, is absolutely understandable to every thinking person on the planet.
I sez: What salt? Where? What outside?
He waves vaguely behind him: That salt. How do I get it outside?
Slowly coming off my senses: Well, go to any register, tell them how many bags of salt you need, and they'll get it rung up and call someone to help you load it.
Blinking, like a cow staring at a passing train: I want all of it. Out there.
Now I'm blinking, trying to not say something that will cost me my job: OK. I'll call someone and they'll help you get what you need.
I call the department, and am informed that there is more salt, of the same type, in aisle 22. How many bags does he need?
So, I ask the guy. He says: About that many. Again with the vague gestures toward the entry doors.
I'm in the car, headed for the wall...I ask the next natural question: How many bags are there?
I dunno. That many. Again with the gestures. I try rephrasing the question, and got more of the "that many" answer.
*sigh* I notice the clock...two minutes. TWO minutes, people. No way am I getting suckered into staying here for this. I've had enough grief and pain in the final 10 minutes of my shift in the last 7 days...no way, no how, am I staying for this. Customer Service at its finest be dayumed! Besides, my coverage is here.
I tell Department Dude he needs to come up to help the customer. I tell the Dopey Dude that the Department Dude will be right up. I look at my coverage and say, "I am OUTTA HERE!"
And I punch out and leave. Is it just me (no, really!) or are people actually getting dumber?
And everything seems to happen in that last 10 minutes before you're supposed to punch out and walk away.
That being said, at the very end of my work shift, seconds before my coverage got there, a man walks up to me and says, "How do I get that salt outside?"
Which, of course, is absolutely understandable to every thinking person on the planet.
I sez: What salt? Where? What outside?
He waves vaguely behind him: That salt. How do I get it outside?
Slowly coming off my senses: Well, go to any register, tell them how many bags of salt you need, and they'll get it rung up and call someone to help you load it.
Blinking, like a cow staring at a passing train: I want all of it. Out there.
Now I'm blinking, trying to not say something that will cost me my job: OK. I'll call someone and they'll help you get what you need.
I call the department, and am informed that there is more salt, of the same type, in aisle 22. How many bags does he need?
So, I ask the guy. He says: About that many. Again with the vague gestures toward the entry doors.
I'm in the car, headed for the wall...I ask the next natural question: How many bags are there?
I dunno. That many. Again with the gestures. I try rephrasing the question, and got more of the "that many" answer.
*sigh* I notice the clock...two minutes. TWO minutes, people. No way am I getting suckered into staying here for this. I've had enough grief and pain in the final 10 minutes of my shift in the last 7 days...no way, no how, am I staying for this. Customer Service at its finest be dayumed! Besides, my coverage is here.
I tell Department Dude he needs to come up to help the customer. I tell the Dopey Dude that the Department Dude will be right up. I look at my coverage and say, "I am OUTTA HERE!"
And I punch out and leave. Is it just me (no, really!) or are people actually getting dumber?
Friday, February 11, 2011
Smiley Sez...
nuttin'
No, really. Today, the return desk was quiet...until the end of my shift (I'm starting to sense a pattern here.)
Anyway, I convince this woman that she doesn't need to go to customer service desk. I can help her.
I'm on the register that just ran out of money. Grrrrreat! The line is backing up, because I'm trying to help this woman...because I ain't go no cash, and Smiley showed up and started a transaction on the register that does have money.
I convince Smiley to switch me registers as soon as she's done, and git r dun, as they say. Money shows up, so all is right in the world.
I ask who and where is my end-of-shift-coverage. The money bearer says, "uh, Smiley. And she's right here."
I look at Smiley, and say, "Oh! I must not have heard you when you told me! I thought you were just here to keep the line moving!"
Smiley just smiles and blinks.
I know I'm being irate here, but is it that hard, really, to tell me that you're here so I can leave when I'm done?
No, really. Today, the return desk was quiet...until the end of my shift (I'm starting to sense a pattern here.)
Anyway, I convince this woman that she doesn't need to go to customer service desk. I can help her.
I'm on the register that just ran out of money. Grrrrreat! The line is backing up, because I'm trying to help this woman...because I ain't go no cash, and Smiley showed up and started a transaction on the register that does have money.
I convince Smiley to switch me registers as soon as she's done, and git r dun, as they say. Money shows up, so all is right in the world.
I ask who and where is my end-of-shift-coverage. The money bearer says, "uh, Smiley. And she's right here."
I look at Smiley, and say, "Oh! I must not have heard you when you told me! I thought you were just here to keep the line moving!"
Smiley just smiles and blinks.
I know I'm being irate here, but is it that hard, really, to tell me that you're here so I can leave when I'm done?
Thursday, February 10, 2011
OOOOOOOOOOOOO-kay
Today was a lovely day at the return desk! No, really, it was. Right up til the end:
Mumple: How may I direct your call?
Phil: er, uh, I'm calling from DerGrowndhawgtown, an' uh, we were up dare an' got this here microwave. We need to know what ter do, cuz, the #2 quit workin' an' then 'nother number, an' now it turns on by itself, an' we cain't git it ter shut off or paws or nuttin' like dat. We want to bring it back. Can we do dat?
M: Okay.
Phil: er, well, we want ter bring it back.
M: Okay.
Phil: It's stainless steel, an' we like it an' all. Butta coupla numbers don' work an' it turns on by itself. Whut kin we do?
M: You can bring it back.
Phil: We wanna bring it back.
M: Okay.
Phil: So we kin jus' bring it back then?
M: Ayup.
Phil: er, uh, we can bring it back. Is there a special place we can bring it?
M: The return desk is right inside the main entrance doors. Bring it there, and we'll take care of it.
Phil: Jus' bring t'in?
M: Yes.
Phil: well, er, whut er yer 'ours up dare?
M: 7am to 9pm Monday through Saturday; 9am to 6pm on Sundays.
Phil: mmmmmmmmm. 9 to 6 on Sunday. Whut 'bout them dare udder sex days?
M: 7am to 9pm Monday through Saturday.
Phil: 'n we kin bring it back?
M: Yes.
Phil: k. bye.
Oh, how I wanted to tell him the hours of the store around my schedule. He'll be in tomorrow morning, or Saturday night...how do I know? Am I psychic? Hell no, he'll be in to tell me whole sorry story. Me. Me. Me. How they love me, and must come worship me.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
All Good Things
and, of course, my job isn't necessarily considered a "good thing." At least not in the traditional sense.
Anyway, our new store manager arrived yesterday, and I was, of course, off. (no comments from you peanuts in the gallery, please.) I go in today at 4pm.
My concern has been that since our new store manager is also, technically, my 3rd cousin, I may be out of job. Now, everyone says, "cousins ain't that big a deal" but, then, this is where I've worked for 10+ years. And I've done this gig before. They say it's not a problem, then 6 months from now, it's a problem. Then, a year from now, it's a BIG problem. (Nevermind that I wouldn't know him if he stepped off the curb in front of me...)
Really, I don't care who else has fought that particular idiocy and won, I don't want to fight. (I know, I know, the Apocolypse cometh) I want to show up when I'm supposed to, do my job, collect my paycheck and not be touched by freaks. How this company usually handles this is that they have a written policy. They have exceptions to the policy. Then, somebody, somewhere, gets a wild hair and decides it IS TOO a problem and then the shit, as they say, rolls downhill. I'm ALWAYS downhill. That's what "plankton" in my job description means.
*sigh* after this many years of going through SSDY (same shit, different year) I'd just really like to get a "get out of jail free" card X infinity.
Anyway, our new store manager arrived yesterday, and I was, of course, off. (no comments from you peanuts in the gallery, please.) I go in today at 4pm.
My concern has been that since our new store manager is also, technically, my 3rd cousin, I may be out of job. Now, everyone says, "cousins ain't that big a deal" but, then, this is where I've worked for 10+ years. And I've done this gig before. They say it's not a problem, then 6 months from now, it's a problem. Then, a year from now, it's a BIG problem. (Nevermind that I wouldn't know him if he stepped off the curb in front of me...)
Really, I don't care who else has fought that particular idiocy and won, I don't want to fight. (I know, I know, the Apocolypse cometh) I want to show up when I'm supposed to, do my job, collect my paycheck and not be touched by freaks. How this company usually handles this is that they have a written policy. They have exceptions to the policy. Then, somebody, somewhere, gets a wild hair and decides it IS TOO a problem and then the shit, as they say, rolls downhill. I'm ALWAYS downhill. That's what "plankton" in my job description means.
*sigh* after this many years of going through SSDY (same shit, different year) I'd just really like to get a "get out of jail free" card X infinity.
Saturday, February 05, 2011
Valentines Suckage
We all know how much I hate Hallmark sponsored holidays. I hate the hype. I hate the in-yer-faceness of Valentine's Day. (for the record, the only made-up holiday that is worse than Valentine's Day is Mother's Day)
Soooooooooooo....
In honor of the impending lovefest, I'm going to tell you about a bad date (or two):
The first was in college. We'll call him Bob, and say that while living on campus, his parents lived about an hour away. He managed to talk them into letting him have the car, to make it a "real date." I don't remember most of the date (yes, I was sober, no, it wasn't memorable) until he tried to tell the cop that was about to write him a ticket that he was wearing contacts--his license said he was to wear corrective lenses. I should've known then what a lying ass he would turn out to be, but I was young, and stupid (WAS, people, WAS. Past tense. Don't start.)
The second was, oh, hell, in the late '90s. We'll call this one Joe. He invited me to stop by his apartment, and, in all honesty, I was lucky to make it out alive. Nothing dramatic enough to have police involvement, and certainly nothing traumatic....unless you consider that there was a very real chance that I was going to permanently stick to the furniture. Oh, and after I was stuck, that black dear-God-I-hope-its-only-mold growing in the corner of the bathroom would probably eat me.
I consider myself lucky that most of my truly frightening and skeevy encounters with people all involve working in retail, not love. But then, most of my dating history is from a time when the Weirdness Goddess thing hadn't fully kicked in, I count my cynical little blessings every February, though.
Soooooooooooo....
In honor of the impending lovefest, I'm going to tell you about a bad date (or two):
The first was in college. We'll call him Bob, and say that while living on campus, his parents lived about an hour away. He managed to talk them into letting him have the car, to make it a "real date." I don't remember most of the date (yes, I was sober, no, it wasn't memorable) until he tried to tell the cop that was about to write him a ticket that he was wearing contacts--his license said he was to wear corrective lenses. I should've known then what a lying ass he would turn out to be, but I was young, and stupid (WAS, people, WAS. Past tense. Don't start.)
The second was, oh, hell, in the late '90s. We'll call this one Joe. He invited me to stop by his apartment, and, in all honesty, I was lucky to make it out alive. Nothing dramatic enough to have police involvement, and certainly nothing traumatic....unless you consider that there was a very real chance that I was going to permanently stick to the furniture. Oh, and after I was stuck, that black dear-God-I-hope-its-only-mold growing in the corner of the bathroom would probably eat me.
I consider myself lucky that most of my truly frightening and skeevy encounters with people all involve working in retail, not love. But then, most of my dating history is from a time when the Weirdness Goddess thing hadn't fully kicked in, I count my cynical little blessings every February, though.
Circle of Life
When our store opened, there were a few basics that quickly became apparent: our management staff, while claiming to have close to 100 collective years of management experience, lied. They were a cluster fuck. A big, bad, lazy cluster fuck.
As managers exchanged, moved on, and thank-you-God left the building, the general atmosphere changed...sometimes better, and sometimes worse.
One of the very first people I met on my very firstest day there is now back, as an assistant store manager. I like the guy--he is the Abbott to everyone else's Costello. He's reliable and consistant--and we all know how much I like that in a person. (He also doesn't do what Useless and the Hag tend to do, which is make me explain several times over in minute detail what I need.)
But now that he's back, it's like the bad vibe/evil mojo came back with him. I've told him on several occasions that while I'm glad he's back, he should've left that bad mojo someplace else.
God love him, he always asks me to explain. And God love me, I do.
I enjoy having to wait two hours for change or more money to show up so I can do my job. Especially when I can see that the person I asked to bring it to me is sitting on her ass behind a desk, swapping jokes with the other key-carrier, who, remarkably enough, is also sitting on her ass.
I enjoy calling my immediate supervisor so he can tell me that he can't do it because he's on register, while the other 3 people capable of carrying that phone and those keys, can't have them, because Mr. In Charge doesn't wanna hand 'em over, even though he's going to be effectively useless to anyone who calls for the next hour.
I enjoy not having any clue how to do a transaction because A) the company changed how it's going to be done and B) training will be available 3 weeks after they implement the change. (Although, to be fair, that's still better training than we were originally offered--training back in the day consisted of someone handing me stuff and saying "here, do this" and walking away. Hell, half the time I didn't have access to the screens I needed to complete the idiotic thing, and who ever handed it to me would be pissed off at me for not being able to do it.)
So, back to what I was saying, "What goes 'round, comes 'round" and where I work, that means that every so often, the bad mojo hits and I'm right back where I started. Woot!
As managers exchanged, moved on, and thank-you-God left the building, the general atmosphere changed...sometimes better, and sometimes worse.
One of the very first people I met on my very firstest day there is now back, as an assistant store manager. I like the guy--he is the Abbott to everyone else's Costello. He's reliable and consistant--and we all know how much I like that in a person. (He also doesn't do what Useless and the Hag tend to do, which is make me explain several times over in minute detail what I need.)
But now that he's back, it's like the bad vibe/evil mojo came back with him. I've told him on several occasions that while I'm glad he's back, he should've left that bad mojo someplace else.
God love him, he always asks me to explain. And God love me, I do.
I enjoy having to wait two hours for change or more money to show up so I can do my job. Especially when I can see that the person I asked to bring it to me is sitting on her ass behind a desk, swapping jokes with the other key-carrier, who, remarkably enough, is also sitting on her ass.
I enjoy calling my immediate supervisor so he can tell me that he can't do it because he's on register, while the other 3 people capable of carrying that phone and those keys, can't have them, because Mr. In Charge doesn't wanna hand 'em over, even though he's going to be effectively useless to anyone who calls for the next hour.
I enjoy not having any clue how to do a transaction because A) the company changed how it's going to be done and B) training will be available 3 weeks after they implement the change. (Although, to be fair, that's still better training than we were originally offered--training back in the day consisted of someone handing me stuff and saying "here, do this" and walking away. Hell, half the time I didn't have access to the screens I needed to complete the idiotic thing, and who ever handed it to me would be pissed off at me for not being able to do it.)
So, back to what I was saying, "What goes 'round, comes 'round" and where I work, that means that every so often, the bad mojo hits and I'm right back where I started. Woot!
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