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My first two weeks as a shoe slave have gone fairly well, with minimal suckage. And then I worked last Tuesday.
Lately, the place where you can "expect great things", has been relatively slow. With a lack of customers, bored shoe associates begin stocking like mad. For some bizarre reason, no shipments of shoes have come in and our stockrooms practically echo. I could lie quite comfortably across the shelves in the back if I cared too, but they're dusty, so I don't.
The Shoe Ravager
An evil woman (EW) wanted a size 8 1/2. Co worker C, checked in the back and informed that regretfully, we are entirely out of 8 1/2 in that style. In fact that style's entire stock is on the floor. I was walk stock from the back, and could see EW do the catbutt face accompanied by the sigh of disbelief. Now I was entirely prepared to go rescue C if needed, but fortunately EW remained quiet.
Five minutes or so pass and I walk into the row where EW was and lo and behold, she had decided that our lack of 8 1/2 warranted an attack upon the shoes. I must've been standing there with my mouth open becuase C walks up and starts fuming.
C: I know exactly why she did this.
Fro: No 8 1/2?
C: Exactly.
Now, I understand that boxes can be annoying, what with the massive amounts of paper inside and the strange plastic fake feet. That I comprehend.
This lady had taken almost every shoe out of it's box. And the paper. Oh and somehow shoes from other sections wandered over. Shoes that have their place on the opposite side of the shoe section. A pair of clearance shoes had somehow wandered over too and the box was no where to be found. Now the section EW was in only had 4 or 5 different shoe styles, yet it took both C and I at least 15 min to organize the shoes back in place. EW had to work to make a mess like this, it wasn't the standard shoe search mess, it was ravaged.
I made C take her break after that.
If boxes were snakes.....
While C was on her break, noticed two other ladies (W1 and W2) had left a slight bit of disarray. I'm over there pretty-ing up the boxes, when W1 calls out to me.
W1: I'm sorry, but we left a bit of a mess.
W2: No, we didn't, you left the mess.
W1: Well... I couldn't find the boxes...
I gave them the standard smile, and waited for them to move before taking a look.
5 different pairs of shoes were out, but each shoe was paried with its mate. Not only that, but each pair was on top of a box. The box they went in.
Not sucky, just freaked me out
30 min before closing a family comes in, and apparently they came straight from the trailer park*. Picture the stereotypical trailer park family with the mom with more kids than teeth and the skanky not yet 15 daughter.
Trailing behind mom was a cute, but dirty little girl about 2 or so. She was adorable, aside from the grimy hands and face. She had the biggest cheeks, her baby fat belly sticking out from her shirt, and no shoes. I hoped they were going to buy her some, but unfortunately, they didn't.
I was walking past them and I gave the little girl a big smile, like I do with all the kids (yay babysitter tendencies). She raised her tiny grubby hand, pointed at me, and cried "BLOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!"
It was a voice from a horror movie. The closest match I can think of would be the voice of the evil scalely guys from Gremlins.
I know I lost control of my facial expression. It's kind of hard not to when a little girl goes demonic on you. The mom didn't notice, so I'm in the clear.
Tuesdays are weird.
*No offense to those that have lived or live in trailer parks. I lived in one too for a bit, though I don't really remember it.
Lately, the place where you can "expect great things", has been relatively slow. With a lack of customers, bored shoe associates begin stocking like mad. For some bizarre reason, no shipments of shoes have come in and our stockrooms practically echo. I could lie quite comfortably across the shelves in the back if I cared too, but they're dusty, so I don't.
The Shoe Ravager
An evil woman (EW) wanted a size 8 1/2. Co worker C, checked in the back and informed that regretfully, we are entirely out of 8 1/2 in that style. In fact that style's entire stock is on the floor. I was walk stock from the back, and could see EW do the catbutt face accompanied by the sigh of disbelief. Now I was entirely prepared to go rescue C if needed, but fortunately EW remained quiet.
Five minutes or so pass and I walk into the row where EW was and lo and behold, she had decided that our lack of 8 1/2 warranted an attack upon the shoes. I must've been standing there with my mouth open becuase C walks up and starts fuming.
C: I know exactly why she did this.
Fro: No 8 1/2?
C: Exactly.
Now, I understand that boxes can be annoying, what with the massive amounts of paper inside and the strange plastic fake feet. That I comprehend.
This lady had taken almost every shoe out of it's box. And the paper. Oh and somehow shoes from other sections wandered over. Shoes that have their place on the opposite side of the shoe section. A pair of clearance shoes had somehow wandered over too and the box was no where to be found. Now the section EW was in only had 4 or 5 different shoe styles, yet it took both C and I at least 15 min to organize the shoes back in place. EW had to work to make a mess like this, it wasn't the standard shoe search mess, it was ravaged.
I made C take her break after that.
If boxes were snakes.....
While C was on her break, noticed two other ladies (W1 and W2) had left a slight bit of disarray. I'm over there pretty-ing up the boxes, when W1 calls out to me.
W1: I'm sorry, but we left a bit of a mess.
W2: No, we didn't, you left the mess.
W1: Well... I couldn't find the boxes...
I gave them the standard smile, and waited for them to move before taking a look.
5 different pairs of shoes were out, but each shoe was paried with its mate. Not only that, but each pair was on top of a box. The box they went in.
Not sucky, just freaked me out
30 min before closing a family comes in, and apparently they came straight from the trailer park*. Picture the stereotypical trailer park family with the mom with more kids than teeth and the skanky not yet 15 daughter.
Trailing behind mom was a cute, but dirty little girl about 2 or so. She was adorable, aside from the grimy hands and face. She had the biggest cheeks, her baby fat belly sticking out from her shirt, and no shoes. I hoped they were going to buy her some, but unfortunately, they didn't.
I was walking past them and I gave the little girl a big smile, like I do with all the kids (yay babysitter tendencies). She raised her tiny grubby hand, pointed at me, and cried "BLOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!"
It was a voice from a horror movie. The closest match I can think of would be the voice of the evil scalely guys from Gremlins.
I know I lost control of my facial expression. It's kind of hard not to when a little girl goes demonic on you. The mom didn't notice, so I'm in the clear.
Tuesdays are weird.
*No offense to those that have lived or live in trailer parks. I lived in one too for a bit, though I don't really remember it.
so yay...
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