Oh, the humanity! and other retail gripes

This is me, your friendly neighborhood underachiever and retail peon Fredericks, sharing a few points, hints, and tips I've learned dealing with consumers from the general public day in and day out:

1. If a worker comes up to you all smiles and asks if you'd like assistance, they work on commission. Don't have them putt around the store with you for 20 minutes while you try to make up your mind between the inexpensive 12Volt power adapter and the battery pack, then come back two seconds later and buy a printer from someone else. My kids have to eat, dammit.

2. RTFM. Wanna know what that stands for? "Read The FUCKIN' Manual"!!! How can you purchase a $350 cell phone and not take the time to read and figure out how to take the damn thing off of vibrate? You press one button, dumbass. And I'm so tired of hearing customers say "Oh, I have no time". You know what? The fifteen minutes you took to jump into your car and come back to the store (most likely in an agitated state, thinking I sold you a defective device) you could have picked up that handy dandy book and flipped on through. You're not illiterate, just goddamned lazy.

3. No, I can NOT give you a discount. Just don't ask me anymore.

4. No, I will NOT exchange the clock radio your child tossed off the nightstand and broke for a new one. I don't give a damn if it is within the 30 days stated in our return policy. Your kid broke it!! What the hell are we supposed to do with it now?

5. Just because I'm black doesn't mean I work at _______ . That's not a retail bitch, just a general one. I can be wearing jeans, my Nine Inch Nails tee, and sporting headphones, and people will *still* come up to me in random stores and ask me if I work there. I'm going to have to start saying "yes" and giving them bogus information, just for my own amusement.

6. Please refrain from asking me where the nearest Best Buy/Circuit City is. Why even bother? Do you not see the big "Radioshack" signs plastered all over the store? If we have that item in stock, and it's competitively priced, why would I point you in the direction of one of our rivals?

7. No sir, I still cannot give you a discount. What? You want to speak to the manager? You know what? I am the goddamned manager - what do you have to say now, bitch?

Okay, maybe that's a little extreme.

8. Please, for the love of God, don't drop the coins you're going to give me on the counter. I have no nails to speak of. Why must you make me awkwardly fumble to pick up your precious money while the line grows and grows behind you? I'm not putting out my hand as a gesture of goodwill, but as a way to speed our dance along.

9. Try to keep your derision to a minimum, at least while dealing with me. I'm a good kid, just a fuck-up.


Alright, that is all.

Into the night

I love the journey, so much so that I prolong the ride and then often quit when my destination's in sight. Literally and figuratively. There's nothing I enjoy more than being the passenger in a vehicle, listening to my music while watching the scenery go by. Today was a beautiful example of that. Torrential rain, thunder crashing, and I had a bird's eye view of everything through the bus windshield. And I often find myself starting things because I enjoy the process, but quitting before completing my original task. And other things of that nature.

Today's been long. Luckily I had gorzo's birthday presents waiting at home for me to soothe things over a bit (for the record - UPS? not half as competent as USPS, and seeing as the USPS is a joke and a half...). I now have, among other very thoughtful and wonderous gifts, an "official" guide on the art of kissing, and another on how to make love*. Life is very very good. On the way home I also picked up (along with a number of scholarship and graduate school guides) the latest book in Stephen King's Dark Tower series, Song of Susannah.

Now, off to bed again. Whee!

*ETA - I should note that the mentioned pamphlets are unintentially hilarious bits of publication from the 1950's written by a man that apparently wasn't very lucky in the sack. The book on "How to Make Love" is, in fact, on *getting* into a relationship, not an American version of the Kama Sutra. If these are any indication, it's a wonder folks back then knew how to copulate.