Retail Therapy

The two words "retail therapy" typically conjure up the image of a woman and her credit card, popping from store to store, loading up on an emotional shopping binge. I've been there. I've done that. However, I do believe that after these months of working in retail, I will indeed need therapy. Non-retail-related therapy. I'm not quite sure what it is about holiday weekends, but all the crazies come out. The highlight of my day was watching from across the store as a woman reached up with her cane to get a bag on display. The low point was probably that split second later when I silently wished for the entire display to fall on top of her.

Just being honest.

I was on the phone with another customer and there really wasn't anything I could do. But in my retail-weary state, all I could think about was all the things that could go wrong. And I absently wondered where all of my other navy sweater-bedecked coworkers were. I was hardly able to focus on the customer on the phone, completely transfixed with the whole scene. After what seemed an eternity, but was probably less than ten seconds, I saw the bag disappear. [Side note: And if you're using your cane to snag a bag, do you really need it to walk? Seriously. What's your issue?] The havoc wreaked on the display was evident from my vantage point in the back of the store. Manners, people. Find an employee and ask for help before you wreck the entire store. Helpful hint: while you're dressed in your summer best, bright colors and light fabrics to deal with the blistering heat and tiresome humidity, we're clothed in dark, dark denim and equally dark sweaters or cardigans that come to our wrists. I'm not wearing this outfit for fun on a sizzling 86-degree day. If the seasonally inappropriate attire does not capture your attention, perhaps the frazzled expressions will clue you in. Never have a group of such attractive 20-somethings looked so haggard.

Understand that, though you may not want to talk to me, I am required to talk to you. You can politely tell me you're finding everything just fine. I don't need your glares, your rudeness, or your dismissive hand gestures. If you do engage me in conversation, I'll do my best to answer your questions and while your life story is very interesting, I actually do not need to know it. Yes, I know this seems contradictory. I want to talk to you, but I don't. I have to engage you, but we don't need to leave as bffs. Unless you know a non-retail entity that is hiring. Or a stable, good-looking single man who is ready to settle down. Then I will need to know every last detail of the situation. And politely, while your unsolicited motherly advice is quite sweet, putting on your best appalled face and asking me what I'm doing working in retail with an MBA is not helpful. Especially after you've just shared that you and your husband paid for your son's car. And college. And that you remodeled your home to create a living space for him. That's all very nice of you, but I also blame you for the population of boys refusing to be men that run rampant all around me. However, I'll continue smiling and not bring that up. I won't talk to you about how I work here because I have to; that despite sending out an interminable number of resumes, no doors are opening, no matter how hard I slam into them. Or that my dreams feel like they're shriveling up and dying. So please, refrain from making me feel worse than I already do by insinuating that I am working far below my pay grade and potential. I already have enough bad days. And I've discovered that my darker nature is most definitely exacerbated by the retail environment, so just don't push me. Never so often have I wanted to jump up and down and kill people. Maybe not kill...seriously injure. Okay, really just trip them on purpose and blame a bag. Or a child. Or watch a display topple on them after they've interfered with it. Sometimes I worry about losing control and giving them a verbal tongue-lashing. I imagine a flurry of words spinning around me, creating a vertiginous sensation from which I may not recover. So please. Don't push me to the point that I have to use my words.

The next time you're shopping, just be aware. Use your manners. Model good etiquette. Set a good example for your children. Be nice to your salespeople. When you're at a restaurant and piss off your server, they might spit in your food. In retail, we just talk about you behind your back. But trust me. We also always remember your face. 

Wow. Felt amazing to get all that off my chest.