Retail Hell Underground

Dress Sale Hell

Rejects to the floor! From our beloved Carolanne.

 

Huge Ireland Snowstorm Makes Custys and Slaves Crazy

So for those of you that haven't heard about the crazy weather over here, we currently have what is apparently the worst snow in a century here in Ireland. 

Things seem to be becoming accustomed to it now, but yesterday was insane - there were actual drifts on the main road near my house.

Naturally, this has brought its usual share of customer madness and of course the general crazedness of the Falls in general, so I've got a short selection of the finest from my side of the counter, one as a spectator of some customer service badassery, and one from the customer perspective which actually left me fuming.

Firstly, the cafe is closed now through to January as the owners are now on an extended holiday to visit relatives in Chicago. This is essentially the first proper holiday they've had in years. 

This is however no excuse for the mad ones. We are using the off time to deep clean, polish the floors, repaint scraped walls etc, so there's always someone still on the premises during the day.

Cue Crazy the First:

*Phone rings, I answer*

Me: Hello, xxx xxx, Mistress Macha speaking.

Crazy: [is Loud and American] Hi, I need to talk with Female Owner.

Me: I'm afraid she's away on holiday until January, can I help you with anything?

Crazy: That's impossible! She was here two days ago!

Me: Yes, they flew out yesterday. So, was there anything I could help with?

Crazy:Don't lie to me! 

Me: ... I'm sorry?

Crazy: All the flights are canceled because of the snow! [NB: Theirs was one of the last flights out.] This is important! I took one of your plates and glasses with me the other day and I need to know if they are dishwasher safe!

Me: I'm sorry, you must be mistaken, we don't sell crockery here.

Crazy: No, you're NOT LISTENING TO ME! I TOOK THEM AND I WANT TO KNOW IF I CAN WASH THEM!

Me: So, just to be straight, you stole some of our special monogrammed crockery and glasses, and now you're asking us for customer care instructions?

Crazy: Yes!

Me: ....

*waits for the obvious*

*it dawns on Crazy*

Crazy: F***!  *slams phone down*

Crazy the Second:

(I witnessed this through the front window of the cafe.)

The Falls Road has a fairly unique organization called the West Belfast Taxi Association, which runs what are essentially 'Taxi Buses' up and down the road to various destinations.  They are mostly old London taxis, and you hail them from anywhere along their route and then knock on the partition when you want to get out, and pay a £1.30 flat rate.  It's a pretty good deal.

However, this one guy clearly decided he'd rather not pay and just started walking off once he got out. The taxi driver leaned on the horn, then got out and yelled at the guy, who ignored him.

Now, this guy cannot have been local, because round here, you don't fuck with the taxi drivers. For one, they're largely former paramilitaries, and for two, they tend to be pretty badass.

So the taxi driver starts yelling and charging down the guy. 

The guy turns, looks suddenly afraid, and turns to run, but then the taxi driver rugby tackles him from behind and pins him to the pavement, then starts going through the guy's pockets till he manages to find enough change to pay what he's owed. He then stands up, brushes off his knees, returns to the cab and drives off as if nothing happened, while this guy is sat on the pavement covered in snow looking more than slightly shellshocked.  It was damn funny, I wish we could do that to our asshole customers who don't tip.....

And now, the one that really pissed me off.

I live with a friend of mine who recently moved out of home for the first time, is shy as anything and has an endless tendency to blame herself for everything. Therefore, she will never argue, and will always assume she must be in the wrong.

Anyway, her phone died and we went to the local phone retailer to buy a new one. She has a certain budget, we find a pay as you go within that budget, and all's well, until the dick at the counter gets involved.

Me: We'd like to buy XX phone, please.

Dick: *sigh* *rolls eyes*

Friend: *cowers*  Is that OK?

Dick: *Sigh* *Taps into keyboard*  What network?

Friend: T-Mobile?

Dick: *sigh* *eyeroll*  *Taps some more into keyboard*  Yeah that's £xx.xx amount, with £10 top up, yada yada yada.

In NI, pay as you go phones are fairly simple, you just hand over cash and get the phone, no contracts or anything - it's just like buying a new TV or iPod.  Despite some slight hints of early assholery, it didn't go properly wrong until...

Friend: Um, can I use my old sim card in the new phone?

Dick: No.  No prepay upgrades on T-Mobile.  You should have gone with someone like Vodafone.

Friend: ...My mum has T-Mobile....

Dick: Well, no prepay upgrades.

Me: Well, what else can she do, can she not just get a new sim with the phone?

Dick: NO. PREPAY. UPGRADES.

Me: Can you not just sell us the new phone as if it is her first ever phone and she won't use her old sim card?

Dick: You can't use an old sim card in a new phone. 

Me: ....We gathered.  Can she just BUY THE DAMN PHONE?

Dick: N O   U P - G R A D E S.

Friend: *cowers*

Me: We don't need an upgrade, she just needs a new phone to replace her old broken one!

Dick: T-Mobile DO NOT DO PREPAY UPGRADES.

At this point we left, as he seemed to be stuck on an endless loop about prepay upgrades.  I wonder how many customers it took before he realised that conversation was long over.

It doesn't seem much now but at the time I was SO ANGRY... there's no need to be that goddamn patronising, especially when your customer is clearly completely petrified at the idea of daring to ask anything of you.  She wants to BUY a PHONE?  God forbid....

Sorry for the long post, but happy Christmas, fellow retail slaves!  Hopefully you will all have a great time with your families and friends and won't have to work! I myself have a day of chocolate pudding and rum planned, as my flight to visit my parents has been cancelled..... but hey, it's an excuse for lie-in!

-- Mistress Macha

 

Macy's Up, Up, and Away Display

Macy's in San Fran, going up and going green!

--Pics from Carolanne

Now they just needs some birds, dog poop, and litter.

 

  

Every Store Should Have One

Sent in with love from, Carolanne.

Sale Trough

Carolanne caught this birdseye view of Piggies and Discount Rats rummaging a sale table, which we often called a trough. The resemblance to feeding time down on the farm and the first few hours of a One Day Sale is uncanny.

 

Christmas Song Massacre Time!

Every time you hear "Let It Snow" play in your Store, does it make you want to do this?

 

Of course, it does! At least symbolically!

Every year we take chainsaws to Christmas songs and massacre them.

When Let It Snow plays for the zillionth fucking time over the ceiling speaker above your head, try this RHU classic. It will make you feel a whole lot better:

What A Ho

 

 

Oh the customer at the counter is frightful

 

 

She’s yelling and completely spiteful

 

 

And I'm in her face all ready to blow

 

 

You’re a ho! You’re a ho! You’re a ho!

 

 

It doesn’t look like she’s stopping

 

 

I brought some Xanax for popping

 

 

This bitch is making my retail rage grow

 

 

What a ho! What a ho! What a ho!

 

 

When she finally stops the gripe

 

 

How I’ll love pointing to the door

 

 

But she’ll probably put up a fight

 

 

And scream all across the store

 

 

My energy is slowly dying

 

 

And, my nerves, they’re still deep-frying

 

 

As long as she yells at me so

 

 

What a ho! What a ho! What a ho!

 

 

Such a ho! Such a ho! Such a ho!

If you have a Christmas Song you'd like to kill and donate to your fellow Slaves in their time of Christmas Song Hell need, send it to us! It doesn't have to be the whole song, a few lines will do, anything that will keep us from doing what Carolanne is suggesting above.

submit@retailhellunderground.com

Ornaments We Love

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Urban Outfitters. Spotted by Carolanne.

Clever Packaging

Pic from Carolanne. "Ass Cream." SUPER WAO!!!!

Shoposaurus Nightmare at Designer Store

So yesterday these two girls come into my designer store like they own the fucking place, they're acting like total Shoposaurus Bitches, making demands and whining like bratty celebs wanting special treatment.

I oblige while secretly wanting to deck them. I throw their shopping bags in the office and bring out a bottle of champagne - yes our custys get champagne while they shop. I am constantly tempted to guzzle it in the backroom when no one is looking.

Anyways, one of the bitches is on the prowl for something fucking fantastic.... 

...and I was on the prowl for a big-ass sale!

Match made in Retail Heaven...right?

So I give it my all and run my tired retail ass into the ground. I pull together a bunch of runway hot motherfucking outfits - Outfits that would have had Rachel Zoe drooling and begging me to work for her.

The Shoposaurus loves them all and parades around like she's in a fuckin Top Model competition. First outfit FAB... second outfit FAB.... third outfit FAB... fourth outfit FAB....and so on and so on...I couldn't get them ready to ring up fast enough for her.

"I TAKE THEM ALL!" she wails, like a fashionista hyena in heat.

Then she wants shoes and accessories...which I go and get and help her with, hauling  a bunch of handbags and 10 boxes of shoes to the fitting room...then she needs alterations...then she wants me to special order a jacket from Paris...I'm breaking a sweat now.

I'm all over the store pulling shit and though I'm trashed, I'm glad to have this huge fucking Shoposuarus gobbling up everything. Ka-ching! Ka-ching!

Two hours later she leaves with her piles of shopping bags and garment bags and the special order placed to Paris.

She asks if I work on commission...I discreetly answer yes...she smiles and tells me how amazing I've been and how she wants me to be her personal shopper...I have a vision of a huge paycheck that will pay for a new dress I have on hold..we talk of facebooking each other and getting drinks in the future as if we have been friends for years..

She made my day! A Custy that not only appreciated my help, but spent a fortune and wants to shop with me on a regular basis. I felt like I had won the custy lotto. Bring it on! I'll never have another slow day again!

The next day rolls around and everything went straight to motherfucking Retail Hell. Some fucker comes to the counter and asks to do a return. I'm like sure, whatev, dude. He then proceeds to unload several shopping bags...full of all the shit I had sold the Shoposaurus the day before!

Says he is her assistant. (oh and by the way her Dad owns some stupid 4 star hotel) Before I could say anything, another assistant appears out of nowhere with all the garment bags. Shoposaurus Bitch wants ALL OF IT RETURNED!!!

I seriously want to strangle him with one of the dresses and beat the shit out of the other one with a champagne bottle. So fucked up! If she has SOOOOO much money why the hell is she returning everything?! He even canceled her special order from Paris, which by the way, had already been shipped. I could have screamed!

Needless to say I went home in the hole for the day and drank myself to sleep....

So much for helping a Shoposaurus - sometimes they turn out to be Shopo-cunts!

Fuck rich ass bitches!

Rude-ass Co-Workers

So today a woman walks up and starts ripping the clothes off the fucking sale rounder....

I asked the Piggy Bitch if she needs help. (or a trough)

She stares at me like I have three heads and responds with a very short and rude "NO!"

A few minutes later I see her with piles of clothes in her hands...

So I do my customer service duty and ask the dirty whore again.....

"Do you want me to start you a room?"

After a prissy little sigh, this is what the bitch says:

"I am counting sensors. I work for the company as a theft protection agent and all of these things have no sensors. And Your department just failed."

Well fuck me in the ass with a sensor!

I wanted to take the fucking sensors and turn her face into a dart board. I really could give two fucks about my department failing the sensor test.

Here I am trying to be all nice and offer great service and she turns out to be some security agent asshole.

Why didn't she tell me that in the first place?

I could have easily blown attitude right back at her, but nooooooo, I take the shitty high road and try to be a helpful teamplayer kiss-ass (Why? No fuckin clue. Maybe I needed caffeine). So, I let her know she doesn't have to hold the piles of clothes, she can leave them on the rack and count from there. 

I did this for two reasons - 1. It was ALL the NEW merchandise and none of it had sensors and she would have emptied the rack and made a huge mess, and 2. I didn't want her nasty greasy hands all over the thousands of dollars worth of new Marni - which I need to sell so I can eat next month!

I then asked the douche if I could help her sensor the rack and the bitch jumps down my fucking back and tells me she needed to count the pieces with no sensors before I could touch them. 

Before I touch them? What a fucking Sensor Nazi! I wanted her to touch my fists.

Dumbass bitch was too stupid to realize I was trying to help her....what is it with people?

Fuck rude co-workers who take their job too seriously! 

Retail Hell with Mr. and Mrs. Asshole

Hello motherfuckers! How are you all doing. I had something happen this week that really fucking pissed me off!

It was Friday afternoon and I was really busy and by myself and this impatient asshole comes in looking for a gift for his wife.

He yells,"Are you the only one here? Can't someone help me?"

Sure you fucking asshole let me pull my twin out of my asshole to help you! Wait your fucking turn!

So when I got to him a few minutes later, I went around the whole boutique with him searching for the perfect gift for his bitch. He finally picks out a Dolce and Gabbana $2,300 dress and hands me his card. It's declined.

Then the fucker asks ME to call his credit company to find out what the problem is (HE is my fucking problem).

The credit company tells me he can only spend $1,000. So another 40 minutes is spent picking out a bullshit gift. The impatient asshole leaves and I prayed to the Retail Gods I would never see him again.

Sunday morning comes and I'm still drunk from the night before and here comes Mr. Impatient Asshole and his bitch storming through the doors.

"We want to return this!"

Would you like to exchange it for something else maybe another dress for a thousand dollars? Mr. Asshole responds no and tells me to just put it back on his card.

Fucking douche. I'm going to loose commission! Pick something else out fucktards!

So they look around for another hour and pick out two things with a total of $3,000. Mr Asshole hands me the same card that did not go through the first time. And guess what? The fuckin card did not go through again. I wanted to punch him in the face!

So I call the credit card company again they said the same thing. Finally they decide to buy one dress for $800. Better than nothing I figure. As he's walking out the door, he says I hope we haven't been too much trouble with a grin out of his asshole shaped mouth.  

No trouble at all, you fucking douche bag! 

Later on as I'm getting ready to clock out and go drown my awful day with my good friends Jack Daniel and Jim Beam, here come Mr and Mrs Asshole again. WTF? I wanted to scream!

"We saw a lady with a sale $200 pink Versace dress and we want that one."

I let them know I had one in the back in black, I ran to the stockroom cursing all the way there and back hoping they were going to add this one to there other bag with the other dress and she was going to pull out another credit card with credit on it.

Mrs. Asshole says I'll take the sale dress and then Mr. Asshole hands me back the oth dress in which I had worked soooooo fucking hard to sell them and says we will just take the black one it's cheaper anyway.

Are you fucking kidding me? All of that for a $200 SALE Versace dress!

Then Mr. Asshole asked to me if I could hurry because they were late for some bullshitty dinner because they decided to came back to exchange. We'll excuse the fuck out of me!

So not only was he an impatient asshole but he was a fucking cheap ass impatient asshole!!!!!! I ended up leaving negative for the day.

To all you men and woman shoppers out there: Make up your fucking minds and stop wasting my fucking time with your bullshit. I work on commission!

And to Mr & Mrs Cheap Impatient Assholes: FUCK YOU!

 

Portrait of Carolanne Before Retail Hell

Carolanne was lucky enough to escape a closing shift and attend an evening art show where she found this painting of her self as child. Oh how the years of Retail Hell have changed Carolanne. From a sweet, innocent, carefree little girl infatuated by TV into this: CLICK HERE.

Women Who Need Buying Permission From Men Make Me Want to Beat Some Sense Into Them with My Dior Pumps

Hey there bitches, we are still working on getting through the shitty sale time but something had to be said about all the women customers out there who need approval from men when they buying clothes.

It really pisses me off and you women really need to grow a set!

I mean come the fuck on, it's 2008, not 1948! You work hard for your money! If you want to spend $400 on embroidered jeans, no one should tell you otherwise. It's your goddamn money. You're not telling him he shouldn't be buying that $500 gun rack or $1000 useless GPS system.

Almost on a daily basis I have a woman come in to return and say "My husband didn't like it" or "My husband said I cant have this!"

I'm sorry, your husband just said, "You can't have this?" I just want to jump over the counter and shake them and say, "What the fuck do you mean your husband said you can't have these jeans! You need to slap the shit out of him and bring down the rain by telling him there will be a mountain of stuff he won't be able to have if he doesn't get off your ass. And the first thing you take away is the blow jobs. Believe me, it won't be seconds before he's taking you and your new jeans out to dinner."

Fuck your husbands and grow some fucking balls! If you can't then you sure as fuck need to stop wasting all my time having me give you my fashion advice and product knowledge, show you every goddamn thing in the department, and basically hold your fucking hand for an hour while you decide what you want, and then you bring it back into the store a week later and tell me some fucked up shit like your "Husband didn't like it!" Who cares whether or not he fucking likes your new Jimmy Choo stilettos? If you fucking like them keep them! The douchebag won't be wearing them. Or Maybe he will.

And while I'm bitching about controlling husbands, another thing that sends me into a retail rage is when I've been helping some whiny bitch for an hour and she says, "Oh, I don't know maybe I need to call my husband and get his opinion first." You have got to be fucking kidding me, what the fuck? Are you in kindergarden? Are you so fucking retarded and color blind you can't make your own clothing decisions? There is nothing I hate more than women without independence and opinion. Unless you're going to tell me your husband is Alexander McQueen, Ralph Lauren, or Oscar de la fucking Renta, I suggest you go find your own style.

Anyway that's really all I should say about this for now. Fuck permission seeking, indecisive woman and their asshole men. I'm off to the fucking bar!

A Message To Sale Shoppers: Behave or Meet My Hammer!

Hey There Sale Slaves...

I am so over all the fucking Sale's bullshit questions and crazy bitches! I am over the whining, begging, griping, and retardation of almost all the customers!

There is a sign that says the shit is on SALE and underneath that SALE sign is the sale merchandise!! Why is that so fucking difficult for them? And why then do they proceed to take fucking items from another part of the store and put them on the sale shelf and then bitch at me when I tell them IT'S NOT ON FUCKING SALE!. If it's not marked it's not on FUCKING SALE! These sale bitches make me want to whip out my hammer and breaks some fucking fingers!

What the hell is wrong with all these Discount Rat Douchebags!!! I cannot mark the shit down for you no matter what you ask or offer and if you are rude to me I might just have to drop kick you in the Mother Fucking Face!!!!!!

A lot of Sale shoppers are so dumb and predictable I can see them coming from a mile away with their stupid ass questions:

Q. What time do you close?

A. After I beat you to death with my hammer.

Q. When is the Sale over?

A. When they find Osama Bin Laden you stupid fucking bitch.

Q. Is this on sale?

A. No you fucking Idiot! Ask me again and I'm gonna knock your teeth out with my fucking hammer!!!

Q.Will this get marked down more?
A. Yes, but I'm going to make sure I sell it to someone else just so it won't be here when it does get the big Red Axe. How do you like that, you Discount Rat Fucker.

Q. Where are the sale shoes?

A. On the left table where the gigantic red sign says SALE SHOES you dumb-shit, get your ass to Sylvan and learn how to fucking read!

Q.What about these over here on this table to the right? Are they on sale?

A. Fuck me up the ass with out lube! WTF!!!! You can't read and now you don't know the difference between your left and right? Go back to fucking preschool you retard. The ones on the LEFT asshole!

Q. Is it returnable even though it's on sale?

A. I can't believe you're stupid enough to ask me that? Of course it's returnable moron, but if you don't like it, don't fucking buy it and save us both the fucking headache.

Q. Are you sure you don't have any more sale jeans in the back?

A. If I had more sale jeans I would have pulled them directly out of my ass like David Copperfield. I do work on commission Fuckhead!

Q. Why can't you special order me this $19.99 sale tee?

A. Because the children in Singapore have moved on to sweaters.

Q. What's the sale price on this?

A. Thirty beatings with my FUCKING BLOODY HAMMER!

Well ,Retail Slaves, many of us still have a little longer till this sale shitty season is over. Until then I will continue screaming at dumb ass mother fuckers and threatening them with hammertime!

I think what would really help is if Stupid Fucking Customers would think before they speak! But we all know that will never happen. For many going shopping at sale is an excuse to leave your brain at home.

I'm fucking wiped out, pissed off, and over this goddamn sale shit! I need to take my paid vacation and get the hell away from beeping registers and track lighting before you see my fucking face on the news.

But until my island vacation comes, I will  be surviving Sale Retail Hell the only way I can: by numbing myself with lots of beer and hard liquor, trying to get the words out of my head..."Is this on sale?"

Hey Pre-Sale Customers! Meet My Hammer!

Hello There Retail Bastards,

Its been a while but I'm back and more pissed than ever.

Shitty sale season is days away and already I'm totally fucking over it!

I work in a famous designer area and our seasonal markdown sale is about to happen and the bullshit questions and crazy bitch Discount Rats  descending on my department and turning into  SFC's (Stupid Fucking Customers) are enough to make me want to take my hammer and bash some heads in.

Seriously, why do so many customer have to be aggressively stupid and annoying. The other day there must have been forty women in my department asking the same stupid fucking questions over and over and over.

Here's just a sampling of what almost drove me to hammer-time:

Q. When is your sale?

A. It says right on the gigantic fucking sign you just walked by. It's as big as your ass! How could you fucking miss it and there are gigantic-ass Sale preview sighs all over the fucking store you dumb ass bitch!

(Before the markdown list is issued)

Q. What's going on sale?

A. I don't fucking know. Maybe your Momma. Get the hell out.

Q. When will you know what's going on sale?

A. When the planet dickturn passes Uranus.

(After the markdown list is issued and it's a complete riot scene of pre-sale shoppers)

Q. Can you hold these 20 pairs of denim while I go check out the rest of the store?

A. Can you hold your breath for 20 minutes? I didn't think so. Who wants to pre-order sale jeans?

Q. I bought those shoes last year, can I get a price adjustment?

A. How about I adjust your face with my hammer.

Q. Are you sure this one isn't going on sale?

A. I 'm as sure of it not going on sale as I am that you are a total fucking retard.

Q. Well, this one should go on sale because it so ugly.

A. So is your face, maybe you should put that on sale.

Q. So you are absolutely sure these wont be on sale?

A. I just fucking told you NO THOSE WILL NOT EVER GO ON SALE, NOW GO THE FUCK AWAY AND STOP ASKING DUMB QUESTIONS BEFORE I BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU WITH MY HAMMER!

This time of the year brings out the best beast in all of us. FUCK SUMMER SALES! Lets all get drunk and go to the beach!...and watch Sex in the City again. See you next week Retail Bitches.

(If I'm not in prison for attacking SFC's with my hammer)

The Balls Of Stalker Shoppers Should Be Cut Off

Are you with me Retail Slave Ladies?

We have had it up to our fucking eyeliner with these creepy ass men coming into our stores and relentlessly stalking us and trying to get down our panties. Fucking nasty ass douchebags.

I recently got an email from my Retail Slut friend Nicole in Washington. She writes:

I'd like to request a topic for Carolanne to bitch about: Sleazy Pick-Up Line Customers.

Carolanne, I'm sure you too have been hit on by nasty old men who haven't gotten any since 1929. I'm damn sick of sleazy-ass old perverts hitting on me while I'm ringing up their purchases.

If it helps, I'd like to share my own vomit-inducing story:

I was ringing up a man that was at least 50 years old.

Sleazy-Ass Customer: Are you even old enough to work here?

Me: Yes.

Sleazy-Ass Customer: How old are you?

Me: Nineteen. You have to be sixteen or older to work here.

Sleazy-Ass Customer: Oh so you're legal? (he pauses thoughtfully). You look bored.

I wanted to tell him to fuck off but am forced to be a Retail Droid.

Me: Well, it's been kind of a long day, but not too bad.

Sleazy-Ass Customer: You should come over to my place sometime!

Me:!!!

I was speechless.

Sleazy-Ass Customer: I like to date younger women, because none of the women my age can have babies anymore!

Me: *pukes all over him*

Could the guy be anymore of a fucking pervert?! I would have hacked his dick off and shoved it up his fucking ass, but then I'd have to look at the nasty thing. We're retail slaves, not fucking hookers! If you want sex, go pay a fucking prostitute!

Thanks RHU! Hang in there, I feel your pain,

Nicole

Thanks for your email Nicole. Let's hunt him down and hack off his tiny little penis together. What a fucking disgusting old cheesedick.

If I had a fucking dollar for every man or woman that tried to pick me up while I was slaving away in Retail Hell, I'd have so much fucking money I'd be sitting poolside at my pimped out Malibu mansion having one of those castrated Sleazy-Ass customers serve me blackberry mojitos.

I am sick to fuckin death of gross, dirty old men trying to pick up on me. When I first started in retail, I was naive and stupid and thought I had to be nice to everyone - even the creepy-ass fat, old fuckers with a receding hairline telling me he had a house in Hawaii and he wanted to fuckin buy me everything in the store and whisk me away to a better life. I  wanted to vomit, just like Nicole did. He stalked me for months until I learned the "I will fucking kill you" stare. I just slightly lowered my head, rolled my eyes toward my eyebrows, leered at him, and scowled while he talked. Fuckin freaked his old ass out. This death-is-in-your-future gaze has stopped many sleazy men, and a few women who were headed in that direction. I recommend it to all.

Stalker Shoppers are a huge, fucking problem for all us Retail Slaves and I think we will have to deal with it in more depth on our upcoming YouTube shows, but Nicole you and I are not alone. Morticia recently mentioned her disdain for creepy motherfuckers in her last blog (if you missed it CLICK HERE), and there have also been a few comments from our Myspace Retail Slaves. My girl Kendra wrote last week how she thinks creepy guy customers asking us girls to try things on so they can see how it looks, should be banned Retail questions! Hell yeah bitches!!! You got that right!

Because of those Sleazy-Ass Fuckers, luckily our store has allowed us to say no to male customers who ask us to try on clothes and model for them. However, one day I was working with total eager to please Polly Pocket Retail Droid who had only worked in the Store for like a day and if a customer had told her to reach up and pick their nose, the stupid bitch would have presented her index finger and said, "Which nostril ma'am?".

Anyway, I walked by the fitting room area and saw that she had on one of our fucking outfits and was modeling it for a short, old, bald, Korean man who was staring at her ass and moving closer to it.

Dumbshit Polly Droid was lost in her thoughts and checking herself out in the mirror and had no fucking clue what he was doing. The whole scene fucking pissed me off and sent me into a rage. If there is a fire-breathing succubus dragon monster in Retail Hell, Carolanne turned into it at that moment.

I stormed over to him, held up my hand like a stop sign, and said, "You see my five fingers asshole? You have five fuckin seconds to get the fuck out of this store before we scream rape, yell that you grabbed our tits and asses, call store security, and a whole lot of ugly comes raining down on your ass and you end up on fuckin Dateline's To Catch a Predator or the fuckin 6 o'clock news as the city's newest scummy sex offender. GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! NOW MOTHERFUCKER!!!"

The guy ran like hell and that was the end of that.

So girls, here's what I'm sayin: DO NOT put up with this shit. Yes, many of us work at stores where we have to be nice Retail Droids and do what they say, but there is a limit and that limit is any customer - man or woman - that is after our booty when we don't want them being after it. When this happens, you hold up that hand with The Finger Five and repeat my speech from above. Word for fuckin word. Don't leave anything out. In fact, I want you to add that if you catch the douchebag anywhere near you in the store or outside of it, you will have your two huge brothers, Tito and Guido, hold him down while you cut his fucking balls off!

I guarantee you, no more Sleazy-Ass dirty old Stalker Shopper. Most of them are dirty, old gross, unhappy married trolls. Total fuckin whimps.

Tuesday on RHU we'll have Retail Hell Survival Tips For Thwarting Stalker Shoppers For Both Women AND Men...yes Jason and Freddy have both been stalked...yes, by both men and women....when it comes to stalking, Retail Hell does not discriminate!

That's the shit for now, my fellow Sluts and Whores,

Don't let Retail Hell get to you, kick its motherfucking ass,

Carolanne

RHU Update!

Our Myspace friend, MC just sent us this message:

"Yes, cut them off....and sell them 1/2 off." 

We think that's a bitchin idea! Stalker Shopper Ball Sale! Thanks MC!

Also, as it turns out MC makes super-cool knitted, crocheted, and hand-sewn hats, scarves, bikinis, and stuff. She can design to your personal specifications as well. Check out her myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/littlefishink

The Last Word on Inventory, I mean Invomitory

(WARNING - Many F-BOMBS are dropped in Carolanne's Rant, as usual. If this bothers you, you can, cover your ears, and scroll down. Then watch the ice cream movie from yesterday.)

I FUCKING hate Inventory. FUCKING HATE IT!

(See, we warned you.)

Inventory IS total IN-VOMIT-ORY....it makes me want to VOMIT... RIGHT OUT MY FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! I am so glad it's OVER!!!

My stupid fucking Store does it twice a year and every time it happens I end up feeling like slitting my wrists with a fucking paperclip. I mean why the fuck can't they have a company come in and do it? Why us Retail Slaves? Why not fucking InventoryScanners.com?

I don't have enough energy left to bitch about every single fucking thing that went wrong and annoyed the fuck out of me during this year's Invomitory, but I will spew some of the shitty highlights because I feel like venting:

Two weeks before Invomitory, my Droid Manager - I'll call her Psycho Cindi here - was completely out of control making us check tickets on merchandise that had been already checked a hundred times over. One day when she asked me to check an area that I had checked twenty minutes before, it took everything in my retail hell-drained body, to not rip into the douchy droid and say, "Cindi are you fucking nuts? Someone needs to take you in the back and fuck your brains out, you need to calm your shit down! What the fuck is wrong with you? I just checked that fuckin table three times in the last two hours. I am sure as fuck not doing it again, you wired up Stepford Wife from Retail Hell." Unfortunately I couldn't say that because I need this shitty retail job, so I gave her a fake ass smile, pictured myself pushing the snatch down the escalator, and re-checked the fuckin table.

Psycho Cindi's craziness only got worse. Her Invomitory Schematic for the scan stickers looked more complicated than the mall's parking structure: Blue Lily, Orange Level, section 4, area b-12, column 36, row 6, grid 22, gravestone 4389---What the FUCK!?! How about 1,2,3 - you FUCKING MORON! It took us forever to lay the stupid fucking stickers. Psycho Cindi looked more confused than Paris Hilton trying to find her car outside of a nightclub. Fucking idiot.

Then right before Invomitory, the neurotic nutcase gave a meeting where she treated us like a bunch of fucking babies: We had to quadruple check every goddamn thing. We were not allowed to socialize. We had to whisper our counting communication to our partner. And if we needed assistance or had to go to the bathroom, it was required that we raise our fucking hand. What the fuck is this? High School? I'd rather be chained to a locker and forced to listen to fucking Vanessa Hudgens and Zac Efron sing for ten hours! FUCK THIS SHIT!

But things only got worse after that. I told Psycho Cindy I wanted this hot temp boy named Drew as my partner - of course I lied to her and told her it was because he looked like he had half a brain - but fuck no. Psycho Cin assigns me this woman who apparently had no fucking brain at all: total female version of Homer Simpson. I almost beat her to death with the scangun when she had to SLOWLY recount 8 pairs of denim 5 times because she was convinced her count was off by 2. AAAAARGH!!!!

Then my fucking scangun froze and had to be rebooted. Fucking piece of shit thing lost ten stickers that Dispshit counted, so we had to go back and re-count everything. Then we had to make new tickets for 50 pairs of jeans because the vendor tag wouldn't scan with our lame ass cheap Toys R Us scanners. Dipshit couldn't get the ties around the belt loops so I had to do all them and that's when I hit my fucking head on one of the shelves and nearly blacked out. It felt like I'd been whacked with a crowbar. Then I was nauseous and dizzy. No food or water anywhere. Psycho Cindi said I should go get a drink of water from the fountain by the bathrooms. I said, Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? I AM NOT PUTTING MY MOUTH ANYWHERE NEAR THAT SKANKY THING. FUCKING GROSS!!!

I'd had enough. I told Psycho Cindi I needed to go home. Invomitory was over for me. I felt like I was going to pass out. She said, "No, everyone stays until it's done." Fucking douchebag. I would have ignored her and cut out anyways, but our Store had turned into a maximum security high school prison that night. No one was allowed to leave during inventory unless they had a pass issued by the HR Manager or Floor Watchers. Sounds unbelievable doesn't it? It's all true motherfuckers. Fucking Store Security stood guard by the employee entrance and would not let anyone leave unless they had an exit pass. WTF?!?! People it's fucking inventory at shitty department store for god sakes! Not back stage of a Hannah Montana concert!

So then I said, "Listen Cin - it's like this: If you don't let me go home RIGHT NOW - my head trauma is going to cause the kind of migraine that will force me to call in sick tomorrow morning. You won't have an opener and they'll be calling your ass in to cover me."

Psycho Cin short circuited like coffee hitting a key board. She babbled away on her walkie-talkie to the HR Manager about my condition. The HR Droid bitch was not happy I got to leave early, but forked over the Exit Pass and I got the fuck out of Invomitory Hell! I went straight to PF Changs.

The next morning, I should have called in anyway. The place looked like it was under Crime Scene Investigation - fucking yellow tape, fingerprints, and pink tickets everywhere, everything a total fucking mess. Worse than a goddamn sale. I barely got the shit cleaned up before the store opened. The air hadn't been turned on, my clothes were soaked from sweating, and my head hurt worse that fucking Harry Potter's.

INVOMITORY IS RETAIL HELL PURGATORY!!! IT FEELS LIKE IT NEVER FUCKING ENDS!

Next year I'm going to save some cash from my Christmas paycheck and buy a fucking doctor's note that says I have mono and then I'm going to spend the week on my couch watching DVDs and eating nachos. Buah motherfuckers!

Carolanne's Bitch Dept: On Gift Boxes

One of the things I hate most about Holiday Retail Hell is the whole obsession with a free fuckin gift box. Why do people need stupid boxes anyway? It's a waste of a tree and a waste of my time. At my Big Fancy Store we actually give away nice boxes. We have to make the goddamn boxes and then wrap the item up nicely in tissue with a fucking sticker and box it for the customer. It's a fucking pain in the ass. What I would give to have someone do the boxmaking for me, but noooooo, the fucking store doesn't want to pay for it. They want me to do it and break my nails and shred my cuticals.  I have nightmares about making boxes. I FUCKING HATE MAKING BOXES! My Store and Department Manager have kept all of us past our shift's end on many occasions, requiring us to make 50 boxes each before we go home. WTF!!!!FUCKIN CRAZY BITCH MANAGERS!

When I am handing out those nice gifts boxes that I had to make from the blood of my cuticles, some customers turn into anal asswipes over their $3 pair of socks, wanting me to fold the tissue with perfect percision and a place store logo sticker on the tissue perfectly in the center. The other day I had a woman go all ballistic on me because I forgot to give her a goddamn sticker. I wanted to shove the shitty stickers up her fat ass!

Sometimes I get customers who want extra boxes, and I just want to say, "I am not a fucking Gift Box Depot assholes." You just spent $200 on designer jeans out in the mall, go to fuckin Target and buy a six pack of shirt boxes for $2.99, don't beg me for extra boxes for all your shit because you are too lazy and too cheap to go somewhere and buy boxes. This gets really bad sometimes. The other day I had a lady yell at me,  "I JUST SPENT $5000 IN YOUR STORE, I DEMAND SOME EXTRA BOXES!" Fucking Beverly Hills Bitch. I wanted to beat her snobby Beverly Hills ass with sweater gift box. I told her to go fuck herself, I'm not giving her free boxes.(I didn't use the F word of course). She stormed off in a huff and I wanted to yell after her, "If you want fucking boxes so bad, go in the back, ruin your own goddamn nails, and make them yourself, you fucking douchebag bitch." Then I went and had a cigarete. When I came back, my co-worker told me the snooty skank went and bitched in Customer service and the Retail Droids gave them to her! YOU'RE FUCKING KIDDING ME, RIGHT? I was so pissed!

I also had a customer buy some slippers that were already in a box and he had the nerve to say, "Can I have a box with these?" I stared at him like he was a fucking elephant high on crack. "They are already in a box," I said. "I just want one of the boxes from your store," he replied. Seriously, it was all I could do not to scream, "Go buy some fucking wrapping paper and wrap them yourself lazy douchebag. I'm not your fucking North Pole wraping elf!'

On the other side of Gift Box Retail Hell, I have friends who work at Stores that don't give away gift boxes. The customer annoyance factor for them is just as bad. They are equally screwed. Customers get angry at them because they don't have a fucking free box to give them with their 79 cent pack of Carebear stickers. I told my friend she should just say that there is a walmart up the street and go buy some fucking festive wraping paper and boxes and do it yourself just like the rest of us! Or just stick the shit in a gift bag. Or better yet don't wrap it at all? Do you think my boyfriend really gives a shit his "Call of Duty 2" game is wrapped? Hell no! He just wants to play the motherfucker.

I think we Retail Slaves need to have t-shirts and buttons that say, "BUY YOUR OWN FUCKING GIFT BOXES BITCHES!!! I hate fucking gift boxes. Nothing would make be happier right now than watching a mountain of them fire up and burn like something at Burning Man. Oh, fuck yeah!

Holiday Meetings

The holidays are already eating me alive, I had only one day off this week and my stupid fucking manager had to call a MANDATORY meeting at 7-fucking-am on my one day off. What the fuck? It's bad enough that I had to work 10 fucking days straight with crazy Pyscho Holiday Shoppers now I have to be up at 5:30 in the fucking morning to go to a "sell through" meeting. What's the fucking point? I know already know what we have sold through. Just let me sleep in! My day went like this: Woke up at 5:30 am, sat in traffic till 7, arrived at the stupid ass meeting half asleep, there was no coffee and nothing to eat, and then it ends up not being about "sell through" at all. It ends up being my Evil Droid Manager bitching at us about how we are not making our last year's numbers and how we haven't been up to par on our customer service. FOR TWO FUCKING HOURS! It's Christmas fuckers! Who fucking cares! You get what you need and get the fuck out! She bitched about stupid unimportant shit like all of us punching in late and gossiping on the floor. Why couldn't that wait till January? Why was it so important to ruin my motherfucking day off so she could rag about punching in and gossip. Fucking Droid Bitch. Why do we need those kind of meetings anyway, it's fucking retail, not rocket science! By the time I got out of the store it was 10am and I sat in more traffic till noon. Finally I was home and bed called my name. When I woke up it was 5:30pm. My only day off was wasted by a fucking stupid-ass pointless meeting! I am so over all this fucking shit. This is for all you Droid Managers and Stores having meetings this month and ruining our days off....CLICK HERE! 

Carolanne's Bitch Department: Black Friday Bullshit

Okay, I've seen all the news coverage of the Black Friday 4am Psycho Shoppers lined up and then stampeding through the fucking doors and I feel really really bad for all the Retail Slaves that had to get up so fucking early and be at their stores and deal with crazy bargain shoppers the day after a holiday, but can I just say how MUCH I fucking hate Black Friday from my perspective at a Big Fancy Department Store in Designer Clothing? It's total fucking bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. No, I didn't have to be at my store at 3 AM - I had to be there at 6 because we opened our fucking doors at 7AM. There were like 10 people in line. So I stood there in my department bored as hell, shaking from too much goddamn coffee and my thumb up my ass. We didn't have shit on sale. No Designer Doorbusters in my department! Just the fucked-up Christmas music playing over and over and the air conditioning freezing my ass off. The only customers I had were bitches returning everything (including the shit they wore on Thanksgiving Day) , a bunch of fraudulent Nasty Ass Thieves returning and trying to buy shit with bad checks, crazy ass motherfuckers on the phone, a shitload of Lookiloos asking me to find sizes for them and then telling me they just wanted to try it on. Nobody bought shit. I went home negative for the day. I'm on commission and for those of us on commission, Black Friday was complete fucking Retail Hell! I wonder if all those Slaves that work at Discount Stores and Electronic Stores were being paid overtime or commissions for all the hell they went through at 4 AM? I seriously fucking doubt it. You just know those Discount and Electronic Stores raked in the cash and their Slaves got paid shit. This is why I think Black Friday is Bullshit. The only people that lose are us Retail Sluts and Whores.Total fucking BULL-SHIT! Fuck Black Friday! Glad its over!!!!!!!!!