Retail Rage

I’ve worked in retail since I was fifteen. That’s eight years of customer service up my sleeve. I’m good at it. I don’t love it, but I’m good at it. Or at the very least, I’m good at not punching the jerks or being an asshat. I smile at rude people. I bid everyone a good day. I’m unfailingly polite in the face of bad tempered assholes who feel it’s necessary to take their bad day out on me. And I’ve been doing this for nearly a third of my life. Today however, I think I reached the end of my patient tether. For the first time in my long and illustrious (well, maybe not) customer service career, I visibly cracked it in front of a customer.

On any other day, it would have been something I shrugged off. But the last couple of days, I’ve really struggled to keep my cool. Either I’ve reached the end of my retail shelf life, or people are finally starting to drive me mad. Perhaps both. There was nothing overly different about this particular woman, but I’ve dealt with an inordinate amount of jerk customers in the last two days especially, and this encounter was the straw that broke the customer service assistant’s back.

First she complained about the price of a watch battery (despite the fact that we were the best deal in terms of price and time, and we offer a 2 year battery guarantee). I told her that was fine, handed her watch back. She continued to make a big deal about the price, and I reminded her that she was under no obligation to purchase. She umm’d and ahh’d about whether she wanted one. Finally decided she did, and then changed her mind once I already had the back off. Then she needed to know the brand of battery we use, and complained that she didn’t like that brand. Said she missed the days we had a watch maker in town and when I said my colleague is a qualified watch maker by trade, she decided she wanted him to put in her battery instead of me. Because, y’know, that would have made an enormous difference.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. It doesn’t sound that bad. But she was rude and had a bad attitude, and something in me just snapped. I handed my colleague the watch, said ‘well, you’d better do this one because I’m obviously no good at my job’ and then walked straight out of the shop to calm down. I was furious. The truth is, I can’t tell you exactly why this irritated me more than every other person who has underestimated me and my ability to do my job. But I just couldn’t stand in her presence after that, at least without leaping across the counter and headbutting her stupid face.

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I think maybe it’s time to look for a new job. I figure I either make a fortune from my sewing business (probably unlikely), get insanely inspired and write an award winning novel (probably less likely, given my lack of motivation lately) or I find a job that doesn’t require me to deal with other people. Well…not living ones anyway. Perhaps I ought to look into a career as a mortician. Or a thanatologist. Or a grave digger. Or hell, maybe I’ll just live out my fantasy of being a hit woman for hire.

Regardless of what I decide to do, one thing is for certain. If you want to know what hell is like, you don’t need to make a special trip downstairs. All you have to do is ask someone who works in retail.

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You said it, Jesus.
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