An Open Letter to People With Jobs…Who Don’t Want to Work
Good evening customer service employees of the world,
You know, it wasn’t long ago that I worked in retail. I know the struggle of the customer service worker trying to make a little money (post college, I was trying to make as much as possible actually) and maintain as much dignity as possible. I had spent most of high school and college waltzing around in itchy dress pants trying to sell overpriced cheap jewelry at Claire’s, risking my life trying to pull down California King sized comforters for ungrateful customers at Linens-n-Things, and trying to let women know that the bra that was giving them double boob DOES NOT fit at Victoria’s Secret. I had been called stupid, been made to think that selling bright sweats to spoiled teenagers in the suburbs was the best I would do with my life, and had enough panties that weren’t on sale thrown at me as a cashier to know that dignity was a hard think to keep intact as a customer service worker. But despite all that, I worked for my little minimum wage and didn’t let people keep me from giving good service, getting promotions and getting paid at my gigs. Maybe that’s why I’m so confused/perturbed about the alleged customer service I’ve been seeing lately from folks. Girl at Aldo, this one’s for you.
I was just in your store on Sunday trying to find a gift for my mother and trying to possibly find some cheap sandals for this hot weather that’s slowly creeping back in. I was tired as all get out post church, but still in a good mood. A sale sign can do wonders for a gal’s mood. But anyway, I asked you, young woman with the big hair and face full of makeup, if I could get a pair of sandals in a 9 1/2. Knowing how busy retail kids can be, I was even nice enough to apologize for interrupting you. In response you said that was fine and proceeded to put a few shoes back and walked away to help others, and to, I assumed, call in my request. In that time, I actually started to think the sandals were still a bit overpriced, even on sale, and that unless they looked stellar on my feet, I would probably pass. But you didn’t even really give me the opportunity to try those jokers on.
After about 15-20 minutes you walked past me multiple times, didn’t even look in my direction as you moved around the opposite side of the store. At first I understood that you were probably busy…and then I realized you were playing with my time. You did more floating around the store trying to look busy rather than actually being busy. While trying to pass the time looking at purses with my friend, you walked near me, smirked and kept walking. I proceeded to stop you with the quickness to finally get it all out there: “Uh, excuse me, are those sandals still coming out?”
You made somewhat of a confused face and then said, “Oh, I forgot!” Thinking about the fact that I wasn’t in love with the shoes, and you clearly weren’t trying to get them for me, I said, “That’s fine, nevermind on the shoes.” I was expecting a quick “I’m sorry,” and then I was going to be on my way. But instead, your response was the following–with a dose of attitude: “Cool.” *proceeds to shrug and quickly walks away*