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Jan
5
Jan
5
Jan
5
Dec
13
Day 5 – register training, finally
Given the level of organization I have experienced thus far at the URL, it is hardly surprising that when I showed up this morning for my register training (a few minutes late, I admit) I was not expected, and there really wasn’t anyone there to help.
A very nice gentleman pointed me in the direction of the training room, indicated the CDs, and said I could use any computer. Then he disappeared. And I didn’t see him or any other HR person again.
So I started. It’s a self-directed, interactive course with video segments, guided practice at a training register, and multiple choice and matching questions. The test at the end is a series of policy and procedure questions based on a video customer, including a few transactions. My favorite question is below.
What should you do when the prompt “Insert the check into the printer” appears?
a. Insert the check into the printer and press “Enter.”
b. Place the check in the cash drawer.
c. Ask the customer for another form of ID.
Really.
Dec
13
Day 4 – dull
Revelation for today: When the URL is slow, this job is mind-numbing. I am not surprised by the boredom; I am surprised the store was slow on a Saturday evening before Christmas. I’ll chalk it up to the rain.
The lull did, however, afford me the opportunity to take a few pictures. The manager seemed a bit suspicious but didn’t object. I was photographing the ankle boot army at the time:
A somewhat diminished spiky, furry phalanx!
Perhaps if I’d been seen taking pictures of hell, the reaction would have been different? Maybe they think I’m a spy! Is there such a thing as a “secret associate”? You know, like a secret shopper, but on the staff? Probably not, but if there were, I think I’d seem like one of them. A coworker asked me today if I was an associate or a manager. I answered honestly and asked if I appeared managerial. He said, “Yes.” I’m not sure what I’m doing to give this impression, and, really, it only came from one person. But, like complaint letters to big corporations, I presume that one comment represents multiple people with the same thought. Can you take a principle like that and scale it down to the personal? Does it still apply? I’m going to pretend it does.
Anyway, here’s hell… and if that’s not bad enough, hell isn’t waterproof, either. It leaks!
A tiny corner of hell.
The obstacle course that is the eighth circle has new tricks and traps. Puddles, trashcans and flattened cardboard boxes block aisles and stairwells. Fun!
Hell has leaks.
I’d like to take this time to note that since the last time I worked, hell has been significantly cleaned and straightened. It really is rather impressive. Fewer boxes are sliding off the shelves and blocking your path. The boxes are neat and orderly and facing the same way. The same shoes are still not consistently together, but it’s a lot easier to navigate, to be honest. Not that I had much to do down there today. Did I mention it was slow?
Dec
11
Day two/three – tiny victories
Exciting things happen every day. To me. They didn’t used to, but with a few minor adjustments, I’ve been able to up my excitement quotient significantly. No, I have not started holding up liquor stores or running out into traffic. In fact, I didn’t change my behavior at all. The trick to having an exciting life is lowering your expectations.
What do you think is exciting? What makes you smile? Is your life mostly dull? I highly recommend lowering your threshold for amazement, amusement and joy. That is how I made my life more exciting: with ordinary victories and mundane diversions.
In my new job at the Undisclosed Retail Location (URL), I have found a wealth of amusement. I am starting to understand the eighth circle of hell – the stockroom for those of you who missed my previous entry. About 80 thousand times each shift, I go questing for shoes in hell. And sometimes I find them. Without any help. This moment is one I savor. I have the Box. In the Box are two shoes of the same size and color, but different feet. If the story ended right here, I’d be satisfied. Finding the Holy Grail is reason enough to be excited.
But then I return to the surface with my prize and am rewarded with a smile from a happy customer – well, sometimes. Some people are annoyed they had to wait so long. If they had any conception of what it’s like down there, they’d all be showering me with pearls and fancy titles like Archduchess of Ankle Boots or Thane of Cawdor. But, really, the finding is enough – and a thank you, maybe a smile, too, is nice.
Now, while searching through hell I have found additional amusement in the shoe style names. Who would call a high heeled pump “Clown”? Look at my fab new Clown shoes?! Really?!!? I wish I could remember which line that was, but I can’t – just believe me when I tell you it was a fancy dress-up sort of shoe with a big, tall, spiky heel. My other current favorite is “Kookiee.” It’s a hideous patchworky-looking skimmer flat (I think that’s redundant, but I added “flat” for those who read skimmer and said “huh?”).
Tonight’s unexpected bonus was a row of stiletto, black patent leather, lace-up ankle boots, with wispy fur trim around the top. One pair alone might be sweet, but a row of a dozen is enchanting! That was my biggest smile of the day. I would not in a million years want to own this shoe, but boy do I love looking at a phalanx of them. I giggled. I pointed. I commented to the man who was setting them up. I was pleased to discover he understood – or at least could appreciate – my delight. If they’re still there Saturday, I’ll take a picture.
Dec
8
Day One
So, I’m not working a full-time job for the first time in… well, in my adult life, I guess. I decided I should take this opportunity to do things I didn’t have time to do before. I am volunteering at a high school for pregnant and parenting teens. I’m cooking and baking bread – a lot. I am pretending to be a lady who lunches. I am spending more time with my friends. And, since freelance work is thin on the ground in December, I got myself a holiday sales job.
I have not worked retail since the mid-1990s. When I landed that non-customer service related job, I celebrated – NO MORE CUSTOMERS! Because, face it, most of you are mean and impatient on a good day; and at Christmastime… you’re all demons. Well, I’m back again in sales-land, in the ladies shoe department of an Undisclosed Retail Location (URL).
Tonight was my first time on the sales floor. I have had no training. I don’t know how to clock in. I cannot ring up a sale. There is no manager around to tell me what I should be doing. I don’t understand how the department is organized. And the 2-story stock room bears an uncanny resemblance to the eighth circle of hell.
I was in the store less than five minutes before being yelled at by a member of the public. While waiting to ask someone just what I should be doing, a customer asked me to ring up a sale. I explained it was my first day, and I didn’t yet know how. She told me she was a manager at the URL and could show me. This didn’t seem right. I don’t know her, and I’m pretty sure she’s not allowed to ring up her own sale. So I told her I wasn’t comfortable doing that. This made her very unhappy. She stormed off, and I retreated to the stock room for a tour with a remarkably friendly and helpful young man we’ll call Roger.
After the grand tour of hell, I did some “go-backs” – which had some other odd name I can’t remember – to try to get the hang of things. Roger had to go to dinner, so I was sent to the floor and stapled to Emily – no, that’s not really her name, either, and there were no no actual fasteners involved. In fact, I ended up on my own pretty quick. I was able to help a number of customers and even found some shoes for them down in hell. Most everyone was kind and understanding – I wonder how long I can keep telling people it’s my first day?
Nov
16
Closure
I’ve never liked loose ends. Leaving things hanging, unfinished… it just feels wrong. I think I have left two books unfinished in my entire life. And I remember what they are and still wonder now and again if I missed out on something. One was Snow Falling on Cedars; I just got bored. A friend told me what happened at the end, but I don’t remember now. The other was Milroy the Magician. I still don’t know how that one ends, so if you do, please let me know…
About 100 years ago – okay, not that many, probably more like 20 – my friend Tom commented that he liked my silverware. No, that’s not some strange euphemism, I had interesting flatware. I happened to hate this set. A lot. So I promised Tom he could have it when I replaced it.
At the time, I imagined I’d be outfitting my own place and getting spiffy new forks in the next few years. Tom would have his hand-me-downs before too long. How wrong I was.
Years went by… I moved several times and kitted up several apartments, but never did get around to replacing those utensils. I added to the set from roommates’ leavings and I think some must have walked off with said roomies, too. Every once in a while, putting away the dishes or setting the table, I’d think of Tom. We’d lost touch long since.
Enter on the scene the magic of Facebook. Friends from high school, college, summer camp and trips abroad reentered my life. You know how that goes… are you the so-and-so who did such-and-such? You write a bit, catch up on the last few decades – amazing, isn’t it, how easily a life condenses to a few paragraphs? – and maybe never actually interact with them again. They’re your “friends,” and you get all warm inside when you read their status updates, but beyond that… with most of them, there’s just not that much to say.
Friends come and go. Some stick around for a long time; others slip in and out and we barely remember their names. There are a few people whose names I couldn’t dredge up for you, but who still were important in their moment. I remember what they meant to me or what we talked about, but everything else is gone. There are others who I remember and still miss, if I think about it too hard. I wonder, if our lives had been a little different, could we have kept in touch, still been friends, real friends, even now, decades later? Or have our trajectories been too different? Is growing apart inevitable?
Tom and I are now FB friends. I still had that silverware, up until last week. I just sent it to Tom. He didn’t remember it, didn’t remember my promise, but I sent it to him anyway. It feels good to close that loop, even though I’m the only one who knew it was open. Tom and I were close once, and I feel a small loss for the friendship we once had. And I smile when I read his status updates.
Sep
4
Locked out – again
There is a vaguely nauseating feeling of foolishness and dread as the door shuts. I am fully aware that it is locked. Last time I did this, I was completely oblivious, until I tried the handle and realized I was stuck outside. At least I am dressed this time.
I will spare you the tedious, extended shenanigans and jump ahead four hours to the arrival of the locksmith. Saved! I think. After several hours outside in the 100+° heat, I could not be more relieved. In 10 or 15 minutes, that lock will be open, and I’ll be inside, enjoying the A/C and some nice cold watermelon.
Nope.
The lock won’t budge. David, the locksmith, tries several different methods to pick it, but this lock will not give. I’m feeling pleased with the safety of my home, but frustrated to be on the wrong side of the door. David is going to have to break the lock.
I picture a surgical strike at the heart of the mechanism – drill out the center and it magically releases and David replaces the barrel. This is not when he means. When he says break it, he means the whole thing. David takes a wrench and twists the handle 100, 170, 240 degrees. Soon it is rotating a full 360. And the door still will not open. This is where the real work begins. David returns to his truck for yet more tools and begins to dismantle the entire handle. Since we are on the outside, the handle is not designed to be disassembled from here. In fact, it is expressly designed to resist exactly what David is trying to do. I feel ever more pride in my choice of lock. It is doing a fantastic job of protecting my home from me.
The sad remains of my door handle.
A full hour after he arrived, David has opened the door. He has a used lockset, similar to my now-defunct lockset, in his truck. He replaces my shiny, nearly-new, matching handle with a scratched and scabby interloper. But at this point, it’s in better shape than mine, and it works.
Thank you, David.
The moral of this sad and, yes, tedious story? Always carry your keys – even if you’re not planning to leave the vicinity of your front stoop. Or unlock the door, stupid.
And buy Schlage. Or, if you’re prone to lock-outs, don’t.