A new chapter

Today was my official last day at Marshalls. I don't start at Starbucks untill a week from Monday (October 1st), so I've got a bit of transition time. Its kind of surreal, thinking that I'm never going to have to work there again. Its also very exhilirating. Because I hated it. Tremendously.

Okay, it's not a difficult job. It wasn't the actual "work" that bugged me so much. It was the people. And not only the people that worked there. The people that shop there. Ye gods, I hate Marshall's shoppers. First of all, is it REALLY so hard to bend over and pick up what you just dropped on the floor? And is it REALLY nescisary to follow behind me and mess up everything that I'd just straightened up? Secondly, I've never seen a discount retail store that had a bathroom attendant, that carried clothes and handed out numbers. (Oh hello, a number one or two? Three? Enjoy!) And usually, bathrooms have toilets and sinks in them. Okay, I'll give an older person the benifet of the doubt that they honestly thought that (both!) the large signs outside of the fitting room stating "FITTING ROOMS" really means bathrooms. Okay, so you walk past the attendant, and fail to notice that she's not doing anything bathroom-related. She's handling clothes. Okay, so you manage to get past her watchful eye without any clothing items to try on. Wouldn't one think that lack of toilet/urinal/sink fixtures would alert you to the fact that this is not, in fact, the public restrooms? No. People pee in there. They poo in there. They change their *ahem* "female sanitary needs" in there. And we get to clean it up. Seriously people. If its not a toilet, don't pee on it.

Another notice to the general consumer public: Cashiers REALLY REALLY hate it when you try to "help" them with their job. We dislike when you try to ring up, bag, and wrap your own items. If you feel the need to do all of this yourself, request a self-checkout lane. Its actually pretty insulting. You aren't helping us by taking off all the hangers and then just handing them to us in a heinous pile of tangly mess. You're wasting our time, and pissing us off. We also hate it when you slide a card, and tell us it needs to be a debit purchase, then stare at us. That one's all on you buddy, put your pin in. And when we ask "credit or debit" the proper answer is not "it doesn't matter". It is either "Credit" or "Debit". We are also aware that we do not have a button specifically for credit. However, every single store I've been to with one of those self-slide card readers is equipped with a "cancel" or "clear" button. This is usually the way to get to credit. Also, if you have just a plain old credit card, you do not need to inform me that it is a credit card. It's a Visa. Of course its a credit card.

Just because I'm a teenager (or an adult of the teen years, in my case) does not constitute that I know absolutely nothing about my job. I work there. I know what I'm doing. You don't work there. You don't know what you're talking about. When we say a certain item is a certain price, we're not lying to you. It also really irritates us when we spend forever checking for a price for you, bring it back saying "oh, its three dollars" and you respond "oh that's too much." What did you want? Free? 50 cents? Seriously, this book cost at least $21, publisher's price. (But that's okay, because I can then buy the item.) As much as we want to please you, we will not, under any circumstances, rip ourselves off to make you happy. I don't care how much you yell, or even if the manager caves and gives you what you want, we still know you're a theif. (And this is a little side rant, but we don't watch you "because you're black". We watch you because you're a known theif whos stolen thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. We watch everybody, black, white, hispanic, asian. You name it, we watch them.)

Children are not to be turned loose in stores. I don't know if you realize this, but in most cases, they are not well behaved. They steal, they destroy merchandise (rendering it unsellable, which may as well be stealing) and they destroy our property. Sometimes they assault the employees (it's happened to me). I can't speak for everyone, but I delight in yelling at your children. (Except when I scold and all I get is a confused look, because they don't understand English...but that's a whole blog in itself.)

I especially love questions similar to "Are these the only belts you have, or are there more somewhere else in the store?". We make it a point to keep everything together and well-organized. We think it is especially hilarious when you ask us if we have more somewhere else. Yes, we have a secret department in the back, with more belts/shoes/purses/perfumes. Let me take you to it. Yes, that is all we have. The shoe department holds all of our shoes. We do not have a special little shoe niche somewhere in the store. Trust me. We think you're stupid every time you ask.

Do not argue with us on store policy. We know what we can and cannot do. No, I cannot give you change once I've already shut my drawer. If you had asked maybe 30 seconds earlier, it would nt have been a problem. I however do not enjoy being harassed in both English and Spanish. It will not get you what you want. (And yes, I know what "puta" and "bendeja" mean. I did have spanish-speaking friends. They did think it was fun to teach me swears in another language. Besides, I speak French, and sorry, but the romance languages are very similar, and if you understand enough of one, you understand the basics of all.)

Wow, this has turned into a super long rant. I apologize. I hope working at Starbucks isn't this fantastically agitating. (Although Cedes told me they work her brother like a slave...something I'm not looking forward to at all.) I'm anxious to begin my new chapter in life, because sitting here doing nothing bothers me. I think this may be the first Saturday night (technically Sunday morning) that I don't have to worry about getting up early the next day. I don't have any plans tomorrow untill 3, when I got to the Mabon festival with Tom. Well, I should clean my room (Eric won't give me The Sims 2 untill its done...I feel like I'm 7) and there's this tiny issue of an English essay. Said essay is due Monday. I'm supposed to be doing it now, but y'know. Blogging puts me in the mood to write. Not to mention the 3 hours of math homework I have ahead of me...I better get a move on.