My friend Travelpro always has the juiciest retail stories, and I got permission from her to post this one as well.

The set-up: Travelpro has recently gotten a job at a hardware store in town, and while some days are more "Ugh, Thrognar take me now," than others, she seems to like it well enough.

When she was hired, she got a weird surprise: her kind-of stepbrother, Celsius, was working there as well. He was, in fact, her new supervisor. (The "kind-of" part refers to the fact that their parents are not married, simply dating. They're not actually related by blood OR marriage.) They decided not to say anything, and keep things strictly professional. This was easy enough on Travelpro's end, but Celsius... there were some casual bets in Travelpro's circle of friends as to how long he would last. Celsius has had some issues with hard drugs, and also, some bi-polar problems that he seemed to want to ignore.

The first official day of work started out wrong. This store was brand new, and had to be merchandised before opening. The first day of merchandising fell on a day that Travelpro had indicated that she could not work due to her school schedule. She had it off, and had checked twice with management that she was scheduled off that particular day. They both told her yes. So she ran a few errands first thing in the morning that day, and I happened to go with her.

When her phone rang, she was surprised to see that it was Celsius, wanting to know where she was and saying that he was calling in the capacity of "concerned stepbrother" rather than as a supervisor. He stated that everyone else was scheduled to work that day, and why wasn't she at work?

She explained that she was told that she had that day off and asked if she had actually been scheduled. She asked him to check the schedule and call her back. When he did, he said that he hadn't looked for her name specifically, but had seen everyone else's name.

They finally decided that she was not working, but guess who called next? Travelpro's mom. Celsius has said something to his dad, who had said something to her mom, who had called her. Frustrated, Travelpro phoned Celsius' supervisor to find out what the deal was, and he replied that she could come in if she wanted to, but that she was not scheduled to work.

A few weeks later, Travelpro was having dinner with a friend when she received another phone call from Celsius, asking about beer. She told him that she was out with a friend already, but that maybe they could hang out the following weekend.

He clarified: he wanted her to BRING him beer, then leave.

He wanted a beer delivery service because, as a minor, he could not buy his own. He tried to pull, "I'm your supervisor," on her a few times, and she delivered her no in the kind of customer service voice that one reserves for crusties with expired coupons.

It was a shortly after this that Travelpro learned from her mother that Celsius had lost his job. He had told everyone that a whole bunch of people had gotten fired that weekend, when in fact, it had just been himself and another guy.

He told his father that he had been fired because of his seizures (no), which Travelpro leaned of through the Rumor Mill. The other guy was fired for juggling dangerous tools. Celsius was caught jousting... at a stack of birdseed...with a pallet jack. I just... damn, RHU. Damn.

May Your Kind-Of Relatives Stay the Hell Away From Your Jobsite,

--Without Nametag

From Business Insider: During the State of the Union address President Barack Obama indicated that he hoped to raise the federal minimum wage to $9.00 from its current stance of $7.25.

As it stands, the only state in the U.S. with a minimum wage higher than $9.00 is Washington.

Were the increase to go through, every other state in the nation will have to adapt. 

Already people have come out to label the program a job killer, and the companies that will be impacted most should the policy become law will be the companies that employ a large quantity of low-income workers making at or slightly above the federal minimum wage. 

The National Employment Law Project studies industries and identifies companies where employees have low wages. In July 2012 the group released a study listing the largest U.S. companies that primarily have low-wage employees. 

Note that there's no hard numbers on how many of these companies workers are making the exact minimum wage. And the column of the US Workforce refers to all of these companies' US workers, not just their workers making a low wage.

 

via www.businessinsider.com

He's also a top-notch fisherman and is now starting a guide business. So far, he's been okay with talking to people, scheduling, and the like. He had his first trip last week and had a few questions for me when he got home. I tried to answer him to the best of my ability, but basically, some people just suck was my answer.

#1: Why don't rich people tip? This comes from a couple he took out who did not pay for their trip. It was a gift. So, they have absolutely no money into the trip what-so-ever. They made sure to tell him all about how much they travel, their new 200K motor home, fat house, etc. She caught the biggest (insert fish name here), they both received a care package with a map, spots pre-marked, and had a wonderful time! They also said they will book more in the future. Awesome right!!

The tip: $10

I know, I know, tips are not to be expected. I told him that some people just don't tip well, and he should be happy they gave him anything. No, he was not happy with that answer. BTW, that was a 7% tip but at least it was something.

#2: What could I have done differently to receive a better tip? He had their favorite drinks, the care package, he took them out for 2 extra hours, and was extremely customer service oriented. Again, I told him some people just don't tip or don't tip well. Asking for a tip is not allowed and adding a gratuity is the biggest way to make people ANGRY! I also said not to take it personally; how do you think they got rich in the first place?

Now for the last story he has. It was Saturday, and he was up at his dad's house helping him build a new deck. He received a call around 10 am asking him if he has a boat for rent (not uncommon, it happens).

My hubs, trying to make sure he was hearing him right, asked if he wanted a boat, or to go out on someone else's boat. Someone else's - he wants a guided trip, for that day, in the afternoon, on a Saturday.

Now, I know a lot of people have no idea about fishing guides and that's okay - how often do you need that type of knowledge right? But, most guides are booked up for the summer starting in late winter/early spring.

He told the guy I'm sorry, but I'm out of town. Then he gave him a few names and number of people to call. The guy already called 1 of them and he wasn't answering; probably because he was already out with someone.

The guy was upset that there was no one to take him fishing. But here's the kicker, he had this trip planned for the past 3 months and never called anyone in advance and now he's mad.

My hubs felt so bad he couldn't help him. And that pissed me off. Fuck that dude! He had 3 months to figure this out, and he didn't. It was his fault, not yours - do not feel bad for him.

I advised him to get a tougher skin and remember you can't make everyone happy all the time, but we'll see how this goes.

--LSftBNW

Ke$ha and I same the same affinity for beards, but beard advertising? WTF?! Car ads are bad enough but now we have people walking around with shitty little billboards in their hair? Ridiculous.

From Failblog:

Beardvertising.

Welcome to this brave new world. Cornett-IMS, an ad agency based in Lexington, Kentucky came up with a novel idea for distributing ads around town: pay men $5 to walk around with a small advertisement card in their beards. Sounds like a joke, right? A&W doesn't think so; they've signed up as the campaign's first major business partner.

Hey, at least it's not permanent like a tattoo, right?

via failblog.cheezburger.com

From Casualcynic on Tumblr:

So my mom and I have been working the same waitress job for 5-6 years now. She had been waitressing years before, but this is recently. Anyway, about… 15 minutes ago this guy she waited on left and told her to take care. Just that. Prior to this she had talked to him about Italy. Her people are from Florence, this and that, and she said she’s never been. She’s got 8 years of art education and she’s working a waitress job. It’s pretty… Sad and disappointing, I guess. Her and my father divorced 6 years ago and she hasn’t had a real job ever. Just been stuck in a small town she’s not from.

This man who we have never seen before tipped her 1000 dollars for a trip to Italy. Walked out, not another word.

…you know. Just when I start to lose faith in humanity….Hm.

via casualcynic.tumblr.com

We all loathe Bullseye, and I had a brief stint under their poisonous thumb. But this isn't a story about that... It's about when Bullseye pulled me off the registers and threw me into the integrated pizza fast food court.

Now I had been hired on to be a cashier at Bullseye. I had been working with them for a few months, so I knew my way around their particular registers. Suddenly a wild manager appears out of the long grass, tells me to turn off my light and walks me over to the food court.

Manager: "We've got a problem. The cashier girls called out. We've got two experienced cookers, but nobody to run the registers. Guess where I'm putting you?" He hands me a food court labeled sun visor.

Me: "Hey! Wait! I've NEVER worked in ANYTHING related to food! Also...." I point to my long, straight, shoulder length blonde hair. "I'm pretty sure this should be put in a net or someth-"

Manager: "You won't do anything but take orders. The cooks will put it on the counter and call out the numbers."

Now RHU, I am well indeed ignorant of how many laws, health codes, hygiene requirements get shoved into the heads of fast food workers, but one thing I do recall is that hair tends to be tied or restrained or something. Perhaps I am foggy in memory, but even the folks at registers at Golden Arches had something, even if it was just a pony tail sticking out the back of a baseball cap.

Again, I've got a sun visor, and my Bullseye red shirt and khakis.

Feeling like a deer in the headlights, I'm deposited in front of a register that works completely differently from the standard Bullseye register.

One of the cooks comes out of the back, bedecked in all the proper hygeine head and hand gear, and gives me the ten second training montage.

Cook: "It's a touch screen. Push these for individuals, push this for a combo, drinks are over here. Hit the total, the tender buttons come up after that. Good luck."

Me: *out loud* B-B-But! (in my head) AUUUUGGGHHH!

Clock: Tick. (lunch hour rush has begun)

I pride myself in being a quick learner. I even pride myself in making very few mistakes once I have the rough hang of any cash register. I absorb training efficiently. Today, I was just chucked off a cliff.

With the desperate speed of the cartoon character flapping two feathers in order to keep from falling off a cliff, I get through the first three custys without incident. They are kind, and patient, because I make it very clear that I am very new.

Then Captain Asshole of the Million Changes comes forth.

Captain Asshole: Okay I want a chicken basket with fries and a medium drink, a slice of pizza... no wait, take the fries off the chicken basket, I want a combo number 4, but substitute the drink for a shake, wait, that slice of pizza, make it the number six instead, hang on, axe the chicken basket and make it a number 1....

His changes are never ending, my fingers are flying trying to keep up with his changes, alterations and deletions, and I'm positive that I'm getting something wrong because he can't fucking make up his mind for longer than five seconds.

The lunch rush is in full fucking swing, people have now lined up behind this douchemobile so far that it's out of the fucking food court, I'm the only cashier, and there's an irate mob muttering behind him.

Captain Asshole: "Okay, that should be everything. What the hell?! It shouldn't be that expensive! What are you charging me for?!"

At this point I give up, poke my head in the back and yell for one of the cooks. She stares at the mess I've made on the screen, voids the whole thing and takes his order anew.

The new order is completely unrelated to anything I'd had on the screen, and he makes several changes while the cook rings him up. Finally, she tells him to get out of line and make up his mind before he approaches again.

With that "fix" she abandons me yet again without even so much as a pat on the shoulder in sympathy and the orders fly.

I get through five people before Captain Asshole has made his decision, steps forward and orders. I give him the total. He swipes his card to pay. "That's better. I don't know why it was so hard for you to get it right."

My eye twitches and I reach for the nearest object to bash him over the head with, but he has already spun on his heel and walked away to sit with his four kids.

The entire lunch rush --three hours-- is just me, my flying fingers, and the lines. Then I feel a tap on my shoulder. The 2 pm shift has arrived, and a sweet-faced angel gently shoos me away.

My head is filled with an image of my glomping her and sobbing my relief into her comforting shoulder. Instead, I leave and return to the registers of Bullseye for another hour before my break.

May all your customers be nice,

Instructor: Professor Ilia

Welcome, one and all, to a very special school. This is the elite, the esteemed, the deeply sympathetic: RHU University! Again, I want to welcome each and every one of you to your first day of class. Now don't worry about tuition. If you are in the business of Retail Hell, we waive all fees for attending our dignified school. Our professors are here for the sole purpose of teaching you how to identify what has become their passion.

Since this is the first day of school, I thought we would all introduce ourselves and share with the class your subject of study. Now please, don't feel nervous or ashamed. Everyone here is in the same or a similar boat, so take comfort in the fact that none of your classmates are going to look down on you for being here.

Each of you has selected a particular area of study. Whether you're a bright eyed newbie or a well seasoned veteran in the field, you have your goals; which you hope to reach by the end of your program.

First, myself. I'm Professor Ilia, but please, just call me Ilia and leave that professor stuff for the term papers. (Hint, there won't be any.) I am here to teach those of you who are seeking to earn either a diploma or a degree. What's the field?

For those of you seeking the Diploma, you will be learning the rare and fascinating field of Custology: the study of Custies. For those of you in our Degree program, you'll be learning the much more challenging field of Crustology, or, the study of Crusties. These two species are variants of Customers, a species you will encounter on a constant basis in your retail environment. If you plan to be a Crustologist, it is strongly recommended that you attend Custology courses as well, in order to have an in-depth understanding of your field.

Now please put your hands down. I will elaborate, of course, on the differences between the two in a later discussion. Suffice it to say, much of this class will be field work, requiring you to enter the dangerous and untamed wilderness known only as, "Your Job."

Recommended Reading:

"RHU Dictionary" by Professor NC Tony

"Retail Hell: How I Sold My Soul to the Store" by Freeman Hall

"Return to the Big Fancy: A Riotous Descent Into the Depths of Customer, Corporate, and Coworker Hell" by Freeman Hall 

Also, it may be useful to refer to Urban Dictionary from time to time, as we will reference some words rom this knowledgeable fountain.

Vocabulary:

I would also like to expand on some definitions, which can be found in the aforementioned RHU Dictionary:

Retail Slave - Anyone working in the retail field, generally with minimum wage pay, dealing with Custies, Crusties, Coworkers from Hell and Managers or Business Owners who suck. You will end up working very hard with high expectations of perfection from your scum-sucker of a boss and endure a great deal of abuse from just about everyone else. Retail Slaves are a general label for anyone working in this field, it can cover anyone from a cashier, to taking reservations at the front desk of a hotel, to the unlucky sod trying to get that last commission that will ensure rent is paid this month. "Retail Slave" is also somewhat of a misnomer: actual slaves have more job security.

Everyone here is a Retail Slave. But you may also be in one of the following stages:

Retail Whore - You love retail! You feel right at home and believe that you have found your dream career. (Dear God, we were naive in those days). Your coworkers are awesome. (Until you've actually worked with them.) Your boss is cool. (Who the hell turned loose the evil clone?) And the customers are friendly. (Right up until that ONE walked through the door and shattered everything like an expensive glass bauble.) To clarify, this is the ideal you were thinking when you stepped through the door on your very first day of your very first job... ever... until it all turned to shit. This state rarely lasts very long. Also known as the State of Denial.

Retail Slut - You hate retail. HATE it. It's the 10th level and everything from the lower colon of Hell ends up here. But you also feel trapped and dream of another career. Retail Sluts are either here because there just isn't anything better out there that doesn't require a massive amount of debit or else you are stuck in this shit hole until you can find a better job when you graduate.

Retail Droid - This state is the final stage in your suffering. You have been immersed in your retail environment for so long that you get shit done on autopilot because the colors in your head are more engaging than your daily grind. This state can be temporary, or it can be long term. The main characteristic is that you do things in a robotic monotone of drudgery because you know this shit so well you are no longer required to think about it in order to do it. This is also the state that your miserable shit-kicker job strives to beat, maul, abuse or otherwise thrust you into. It also generally requires a level of brainwashing that normally violates the Geneva Convention so hard that its farts will never make noise again.

Retail Zombie - The final stage in your existence. While the Droid stage is the end of your suffering, there is one final step down. Retail Zombies feel no pain, know no pain, and are no longer aware of the world around them. They shuffle through their existence, uttering low moans through their slack jaws. Vacant eyes may move around in the skull, but the Zombie cannot focus on anything happening. Once the shift ends, the Zombie collapses in place as a pile of jumbled body parts, unmoving until another day dawns and the hateful siren song of yet another workday drives the poor creature to reassemble itself and continue its meager existence for the few pennies it is being paid.

Homework: Try to think back to the exact moment when you switched from a happy Retail Whore to a Retail Slut or from a Retail Slut to a Retail Droid. If you would like to share your experience, please Submit it to the class via email. We all want to help you alleviate the pain.

P.S. If you are aware of the slow decay into a Retail Zombie, please, please, please seek professional help and focus as much as possible on the stories we are providing you with on our site. They will halt the decline and may even help you recover somewhat from this horrible condition.

Class dismissed,