Retail Hell Underground

Perky Knows What Girl Scouts Go Through

As a Girl Scout leader and service unit manager, what that woman did was low. I know just how hard those girls work to sell those cookies and how excited they are when they plan what they are going to do with the money. They give up their weekends, their parents give up their weekends to drive the girls and man the booths (and the troop leaders give up the whole month of cookie season). They knock on doors, pester grandma...

While maybe to us ol' retail hands this sort of work is child's play--to girls it is hard. I have had my girls get up at 7am on a Saturday morning so they can get over to the cookie mom's house to get the cookies loaded and to the booth at 8am, and do this in all sorts of weather. Then for 4 to 6 hours (depending on their age, 2 hours if they are brownies or daisy) politely ask strangers to buy cookies. We are very big on being polite, and as Service Unit Manger it is my job to drive around and watch the girls and ask the mangers of the stores who let us have booth if the girls are following rules and being friendly and polite. On the whole I usually don't have trouble with the girls. (The parents... that can be a different story)

While most of the time people are nice to the girls even if they are not buying, we still get the same sort of crap that other retail slaves get. When my girls were just 5th graders I had a woman we had never seen before come up to a booth I had with my girls and throw a box of cookies at us--fucking threw a box of cookies at my 10 year old girls-- because her husband picked the type she hated. And then demanded she get a different box.

Girl Scouting goes from kindergarten to 12th grade, so we have older teenagers who still some times do booths, and guys think it is funny to hit on a girl while she is working a booth. Even though they think they are old enough to run a booth on their own, and at 16 and 17 years old I see their point; it is because of skeevy guys who would hit on them (or the total NAT who tries to steal their money) that we do not let them run a booth on their own. But even with an adult at the booth some jerk will still try to get their phone number. I've had my older girls hit on by grown men.

Then I have one girl in my own personal troop is only 14 years old, but oh my gosh is 5 foot 9in already. She had mix Italian and Spanish heritage so she has the amazing olive skin, gorgeous hair; I'm not exaggerating when I say this girl looks like a super model. But she is the sweetest thing. Thankfully she is really too young yet for her to notice the men who are noticing her. But I swear it makes me want to bring a rifle to all our cookie booths and sit out front and polish it while the men are getting their cookies.

I've had the Christians try to convert us, give us tracts or tell us we are godless sinners and going to hell because we allow gays to join our ranks.

As for Girl Scouting stories---there are times when I think I could start my own blog called the "Dark Side of Girl Scouting" And fill it full of the crap I get from parents who think because their daughter sold the most cookies in the troop then her daughter should be able to say what the troop does with the money. Or the leaders who need to be hand held though their first year, or the crazy parents. Did I mention the crazy parents? Or the crap I get from my regional council who send me paperwork 2 days pass the due date and then ask why it isn't done on time....

So yes, to me I know what those girls have to do to raise that money and for that asshole to just spend it on herself... That just pisses me off to no end. I'm sorry--this is just a subject that is near and dear to me since I have dedicates so much time and effort to the scouts.

--Perky

Newbie Slave Gets A Gross Encounter At The Library

From: ClockworkKid

First an introduction. Hi, I have been a lurker for probably two years now and while I have worked at summer camps and many volunteer positions, I haven't had a real job until recently.

Not for lack of trying, but in my area those who can't drive and afford car insurance are pretty much stuck at home and both my parents worked all day. But now I am in college and got a fun thing called work study. Now, it is great don't get me wrong, we get a little above minimum wage, and the library (where I work) is the only place on campus that guarantees 8 hours work a week.

Personally I wish I could have more hours, but they can only pay out as much as the government has given so it makes sense. Anyway in my year there so-far I have met patrons and other student co-workers I wish to strangle and ones that I want to at times propose to.

The past week has been finals week at my college, and the library is staying open all day to accommodate studying. This of course led to about 3 tents being set up in the library, something that has become something of an annoying tradition.

So I am sitting peacefully behind the circulation desk, going over some notes for my art history final the next day. A girl comes up, shoves a pair of headphones at me and then walks away. Of course the cord is knotted and not neatly wrapped, which is always fun to do. So I pick up the headphones and start wrapping them, and then I pause....

My hand was now covered in what I can only hope was sweat. The worst part about this was I had to finish wrapping the headphones and put them back in the drawer so some other smuck could check them out. But luckily my supervisors let me go wash my hands.

I have more fun stories about Townies, teens, snobby college students, and stupid co-workers as well, but I think I shall save them until after I finish my finals.

--ClockworkKid

Charity Shop Volunteer Hell Has Its Share Of Custys

Hi,

It's CrazyCatLady here, although I haven't submitted anything for about a year!

I've now left my job in retail, although I volunteer at a charity shop. I've only just started but already I've met some crazy customers.

One woman wanted to look at a necklace in a display cabinet, so I got it out for her. It's quite a nice necklace, with rather large beads. She said to me that she wanted to "test it" which I assumed meant try it on to see how it hung. No, she lifted it to her mouth and bit the beads - and then decided not to buy it, so I was left holding a necklace covered in custy slobber. Lovely.

Recently there was been a TV programme which has suggested people try haggling in charity shops. Clearly, many customers have seen this. We had one customer offer £20 on a selection of items that should have been £22, which was fair enough. Then someone offered £1 on a £6 item that had only just been put out and would probably sell for the £6 price. The customer sounded really offended when this was refused.

It also annoys me when people think volunteers get loads of perks. We do get first pick at anything sorted during our shift, but that's it. We don't get first pick at everything, because there's too much stuff for everyone to have a look at before it goes out for sale. We also don't get any kind of discount, and there's certainly none of the "I want this, so I will price it at 10p!" behaviour that people think goes on.

Anyway, that's enough for now,

--CrazyCatLady

Queer Geek Has Strange Encounter With Custy

I posted this earlier on the FB thread, but I thought I would go into full detail of what happened. For those that follow my posts, you all know that I work in a privately owned gift store that took over the space of former General Store business in an affluent community that had been there for forty plus years. The locals sometimes would come in out of curiosity to check out the place and comment about the former business. The former owner ran a Mom and Pop store but eventually shut its doors when a corporate General Store opened its doors down the street. Since then, the owner grabbed all his clients and took them to the other General Store’s competitor.

Anyway, our presence in the community has the locals divided about us. Some like us. Some hate us. Some can care less and our little company continues to move forward and I’ve grown accustomed to all the drama our little gift store seem to generate. You can say it makes work a little fun. Recently, I encountered a weird customer that almost seemed too paranormal to explain.

One night a little old lady and her companion come into the gift store and I greet as usual until our conversation use begins to turn bizarre.

Me: Hello and welcome. Can I help you find something?

Old lady: Yes, I called earlier and I was told this was the General Store and that you had a therapeutic pillow available.

Me: Well it used to be the General Store but that business closed last year and now we’re a gift store. I’m sorry we don’t sell therapeutic pillows. There’s two General Stores down the street. Maybe you could try them.

Old lady: No! This is the General Store! I called someone earlier, and they said you had therapeutic pillows!

Me: I’m sorry but the General Store no longer exists. We’re a separate company. We don’t sell that item.

Old lady: Then who was I talking to? I talked to someone on the phone, and they said to come to this General Store!

Me: I was here and none of my coworkers or myself took any calls. I’m sorry that you’ve been given the wrong information. There are two General Stores down the street. Maybe they took your call?

Old lady: No! They said it was here! I talked to someone, and they said this was the General Store! I’m not mistaken! They said your company had it!

Me: I’m sorry but we’re not a General Store. We’re a gift store! They might have it at the two General Stores down the street.

After a minute of this ping pong conversation, the old lady leaves pissed off and wondering who she talked to. She claims that we took her call but obviously we’re a separate company than the original. Did this woman talk to a ghost?

She must have because none of us answered her call if she INSISTS that we were General Store. Our store is haunted I tells ya, or we’re working in the middle of the Twilight Zone. Doo dee doo doo. Doo dee doo doo…

--Queer Geek

Two Tales: The Rude Ass Custy And The Sweet, Sweet Revenge

Hey everyone,

Banja with two quick stories. The first takes place as a customer comes through my line with a large bag of dog food. She lifts it out of her cart and asks "Do you want me to slide it over the scanner?"

I smile and tell her sure, and she does so.

She goes to lift the bag back into her cart, so I put my hands on the bag to help her get if off the counter, and she asks "Are you pregnant?"

!!!

I looked her in the eye, and said "No."

...she got really quiet for the rest of the transaction.

RHU, I'm 5'3" and about 154, but I've been trying to lose weight and that really stung. I don't think I look even moderately pregnant...(*sigh*)

-------------------------

The other story needs a little explanation. There's a new girl at my store who is ALWAYS whining to go home early, no matter what shift she works or how short it is. On this particular day, she came in at 11, was scheduled to go home at 7, and spent the whole day whining about it because two of her friends had plans after work and she was being 'left out' because she was 'stuck' there.

So she complained to the manager at 2, asking if she could leave early, and the manager told her she'd have to ask the closing manager that night.

Five minutes later, the owner comes out of the office, strolls up to the whiner, and says, "Hey, thanks for offering to stay until nine tonight! I really appreciate the help, you know!"

The look on her face was PRICELESS. Her face scrunched up and she let out this mournful "WHAAAAAAAAAAAT?!"

I don't know if the owner heard her whining and just decided to have some fun or what, but it cracked me up. So maybe it's not nice to laugh at my fellow retail workers, but after a full day of hearing her complaints, it cheered me slightly. My only disappointment was that she didn't actually have to stay. He was just messing with her. 

May all your coworkers finish their shifts when possible,

--Banja

Another Drive Thru Prank: Headless

Evie Encounters An Asshat Regular, Awesome Manager Defends Her

From: Evie

Hey guys! Happy Wino's story about wine retail hell made me think of this little gem from when I worked at a large wine and beer store.

A little back-story: I came in to that job as a cashier, but after making friends with the store manager and the wine manager, I got really interested in the culture. Since wine and beer were their passion, they taught me anything I wanted to know. After about a year I got promoted to the wine department.

Every two weeks the wine manager (let's call him Marcelle) would teach a master class in another town. He'd prep amazing gourmet food (he used to be a sommelier and a chef), and he and the manager of another store would choose a "theme" and an array of wines for customers to try out and learn about. They would provide amazing amounts of information about the individual wines, the regions they came from, who produced them, how they were grown, etc. I asked Marcelle how much it would be for me to come take the classes, and he told me he'd let me in for free as long as I helped him prepare.

So every other Saturday he'd come pick me up an hour or so before the class, I'd help him set out and arrange the menu, put out glasses and spit buckets and staple educational materials and decant and so forth, and then when the customers came I'd stand by and pour the wine. In return I got to listen to the class and taste the wines myself. As a poor student who could never have afforded Caymus or Dom on my own, I thought it was a great trade.

Anyways, one regular was particularly obnoxious. He never used the spit buckets, always asked for seconds, and gobbled down as much food as he could possibly fit in his gullet. One night when he was feeling particularly buzzed, he grabbed my wrist as I was pouring and tried to correct me.

"Sorry," he laughed loudly, "you just pour like you're at a movie theater and you've got a two liter bottle of soda."

I stared at him, a little shocked, and said, "Uh.. I'm sorry," in the most neutral tone I could muster, even though the SOB made my skin crawl.

I went back to empty a spit bucket, and one of the other employees, a sweet little old lady I'll call Doris, came back with me into the sink room. She turned me around and looked me in the eye and said, "Honey... fuck him. Seriously. What the hell?" That made me laugh, and I was able to go back out without feeling completely mortified.

After the class I came up to Marcelle and asked, "Hey, can you teach me to pour wine more prettily?"

So he throws a napkin over his arm and starts showing me how people in fancy restaurants do it. Lo and behold, SOB comes up during this transaction and starts laughing again.

"Thank God," he tells Marcelle, "she needs it."

Marcelle turns around and looks at SOB like he's a bug. "Just for your information, Evie comes in as a volunteer and gives up her Saturdays so she can learn more about wine; she's not getting paid for this. At this point I'd really just let her sit in for free, but she helps because she wants to. I've never had a problem with how she handles things."

SOB sobered up after that and muttered some kind of apology before slinking off. Then Marcelle handed me a half-bottle of blanc-de-noirs and a box of homemade lobster dip and told me to have a good weekend.

Speaking of Marcelle -- that guy really was the bomb.

Happy belated Easter!

--Evie

ShelterDoll Shares A Story About An Ol' Boy Who Wants A Dawg

I have lurked here awhile. I am ShelterDoll, and you may have all seen me in the comments and as one of the submitters of pictures.

I volunteer for a wonderful animal shelter, and while Crusties are rare (for me at least: I am on morning cleaning shift), we have them. This story is purely from memory.

Note: We are CLOSED one day a week: Wednesday. That's the day we can catch up on things like paperwork and animal transfers, plus the mobile spay/neuter clinic stops by once a month to fix animals from low income owners. I was new at this point.

In the area I tend to work, we have cats in a community setting. There is a living room-like area with seats, cat trees, etc. Then we have an attached, roofed and screened (metal) patio for the kitties to watch birds and safely be in fresh air.

Sometimes, people will come up to this screen to ask for info (usually simple things like "Do you have dogs/rabbits/etc here?" or "When are you open?" as they ignore the sign.)

Now, here comes a man who seems to be a good ol' boy. I am cleaning the outside poop boxes when he asks, "When do you open?"

Me: "I'm sorry, but it's Wednesday. We are closed today."

Ol' Boy: What? You're CLOSED?

Me: We are always closed on Wednesday.

Ol' Boy: But I came from (three counties away) to buy a dawg!

Me: I'm sorry, we are closed. Please come back at noon on Thursday.

O'l Boy ranted about the fact he had NO IDEA on how to find the shelter hours and that no one is rich enough for a computer.

I simply watched him leave. He NEVER returned.

Thankfully, my fellow shelter friends believe he would not have succeeded in 'buying' a dog anyway, as we carefully screen prospective owners.

Toodles, poodles!

--ShelterDoll

Bad Store Planning

Custy Tries To Bum Money From Karebear, Threatens To Get Her Fired

I just had a bit of a WTF moment not to long ago. (Writing this at work, shh! Not that it really matters, not a lot going on this rainy day.)

I was having my lunch at my desk because we're in the process of repainting the break room and the smells get to me. Plus, at the time, I was the only one in the office, so I still had to answer phone calls.

Easier to sit at my desk in that case rather than running around the office like a chicken with her head cut off. I had just dug through my purse to pull out some change and had gotten a soda from the break room soda machine (big inhale before entering room, trying to not break while there.)

When I came back out, there was a man standing just inside the door. We have no appointments today, so I had no idea who he was. And again, I was the only one in the office, besides the college aged kid who was painting the walls in the other room...with his headphones blaring.

Now, this guy didn't look like the type we deal with normally. (I know, stereotyping is bad, but really...we deal with peoples in suits and ties.) He looked a little rough around the edges, but not homeless.

I greet him, and he ignores any pleasantries and straight up asks me, "Do you have two dollars so I can get a beer?"

I'm just thinking, what the hell dude, it's not even noon yet. But whatever, his life, not mine. I told him, no I do not have cash on me, when he points to my purse. "I just saw you pulling coins out of your purse. Just give me those."

Me: Uh...sorry, I spent them on the soda machine. That's all I had left.

Him: Do you have a register to pull money out of?

Me: Um...no..this isn't a store. (We do have a cash box stored somewhere in the safe, but only Dolly and Tank have the lock code to it. And even if I did, I am not giving out money that doesn't belong to me. Duh.)

He must have given up and walked out, only to enter the hair dressing salon next door. I wrote it off as an oddball experience and went back to munching my chips and browsing the interwebs. Finished up my break and went back to work.

Fifteen minutes later, he comes back in, but this time asked for seventy-five cents because he was short. I repeated what I said earlier, that no I have no more change and no the store has no cash to hand out. He bitched and moaned and left with this departing comment, "You're so useless. I'm going to call your boss and have you fired."

I laughed and told him, "Sure you can do that. He'll be back in the next fifteen minutes."

Papa was back at that time, and while not really my boss, the weird doesn't know that. He still hasn't called, but I did warn Papa.

All he did was give himself a facepalm and said, "He came in earlier before you came in and asked me for some change so he could get a hash brown at McDonald's."

Papa said that he told the guy he only had his debit card because he rarely carries around cash and the guy tried asking for his debit card to purchase himself some food. Yeah like that would have worked...

Some people...

--<3 Karebear

Framed Stars In: Creepy Hair Custy Wanting A Frame

Framed here again!

A few people asked for what happened to the strange foreign lady who would pet my coworkers and I, so here it is in all of its glory, sorry it's a little on the long side. For these purposes, I'll just call her Pet.

Pet finally came in to get something custom framed. It was a large photo collage her brother had sent her. Because in addition to being one to pet the employees, she was also a talker, I learned her brother lived in Brazil, had sent it to her months ago, and a decent chunk of her family history. We picked out a frame and since it was so large, skipped the mat, though she said to do whatever we needed to in order to get it to lay flat.

If you want to do yourself a favor, when you order a poster, canvas, really any piece of art and it comes rolled up in a tube, as soon as you get it, take it out of the tube and squish it flat between cardboard or something similar. The longer it's rolled, the more likely the waves in it when you try to lay it out are permanent. Don't get me started on rolling, then squishing it. ("You mean you can't get those creases out?" With what? The magic wand I hide up my backside?)

It was so large and had been rolled so tight for so long, we couldn't get it to stay under the spacers so it wouldn't touch the glass (which would have also been bad for the piece). We tried adding a small mat, just to give it the extra weight at the edges. Again, it had been rolled so tightly for too long, and just projectile launched the mat off. Finally, we called Pet and asked her if we could dry mount it.

Dry mounting involves a machine that gets up to around 200 degrees Farenheit, heat activated glue, and a vacuum seal. Because once it's dry mounted, it can't be un-done and vacuum part of it very occasionally glitches, we ask specific questions.

1.) Can it be easily replaced?

2.) Will it take more than $250 to replace it?

We ask this anyway for liability issues. If it's more than that or irreplaceable, the art either goes home with them and we call when we're ready for it, or it gets hidden in the fire-proof cash office, but it doesn't come within 5 feet of the dry mount machine. Pet gives us the go ahead, and because our luck is awful, the worst happens, though in a way none of us have ever experienced before or since.

Because of a quirk with either the paper or inks that were used when it was printed in Brazil, the ink was separating from the paper, probably because of the heat used. Again, this was a new one on all of us, and we had never had it happen before, but that's why we called and asked the questions before we did anything. We all felt awful, but it's not like it was something we could have foreseen.

We called Pet, let her know what happened, and honestly, we did apologize profusely, and laid out the best way to get it handled- either have her brother re-print it in Brazil and ship it back over or have her brother send her a digital file of the piece and have it printed here in the states. Either way, she just had to bring us receipts for the printing and shipping, and we'd reimburse up to the $250 limit.

Suddenly, it was no longer her brother, it was 'The Artist'. 'The Artist' is not willing to send her a copy of the file because the image may be stolen. (Most artists won't send digital copies to people for that reason, but since it was her brother, didn't think theft would be at the top of his list with her, though I don't judge interesting family dynamics.

More to the point, she started denying she ever said he was her brother.) 'The Artist' wanted more money to print it out a second time for his trouble and inital destruction of a masterpeice. 'The Artist' wanted it shipped wrapped in rose petals, escorted by carrier pigeons. All said and done, they wanted over $2000 to have the thing re-printed.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... no.

She tried to sue. It didn't work so well. Those of us who were her regular head-petting/touching victims bought a pizza to celebrate.

--Framed

If A Fake Wang Whops You Across The Face, Is It Sexual Assault and Battery?

From: Terah

I heard this story from a coworker, about her husband. It happened before they even met, but I thought it was kind of funny, despite how it went down.

Mr. PJ and a couple of his friends got drunk one day, and decided to go to the well-known sex shop in town and look around. Now, at this place if you go in with a purse or any kind of bag, you leave them at the counter and get them when you leave. As they decided to head out, his female friend asked for her purse back.

And the dude said ‘no’.

Now, Mr. PJ didn’t stop to listen if there was a valid reason behind the ‘no’. As he later explains, for all he knew, there was a legitimate reason behind the ‘no’ and the dude was about to continue explaining something that made a lot of sense, but all Mr. PJ heard was ‘no’ and he didn’t like the fact they weren’t giving his female friend her purse back as she asked for it.

He grabbed the nearest item he could find, which happened to be a very large dildo, and smacked the man across the face with it, threw it down, grabbed the purse, and bolted.

He’s now banned from the store for life for it.

So I wonder, would that count as SEXUAL assault and battery, or just REGULAR assault and battery?

--Terah

Custy Shows off Skin Condition, Freaks Out Slave

Hi there! Former Grocery Slave here.

I submitted a story once before to you about flipping the bird to a customer that called me a "little fat girl."

Anyway, here is a little something that happened today:

I work for a company that sells maternity clothing and accessories for during and after pregnancy. We get to be pretty knowledgeable - whether we have little ones of our own or not - about the ins and outs of pregnancy, nursing, infant care, etc. just from repetition, and many customers will come to us for advice on more than what to wear during those nine months. I am happy to oblige with whatever information I can provide, as it helps to develop a repertoire with the clients.

Some customers, however, seem to believe that because of our above-average knowledge of pregnancy and nursing, that we are, in face, nurses, and know all sorts of medical mumbo-jumbo.

My customer today took the cake. She was telling me that she was developing a rash, and she thought it was because her non-maternity underwear was rubbing on her and irritating her skin. I told her, well, yes if you are wearing regular underwear it can get a little uncomfortable, and sell her some maternity panties. I helped her with a few other things and the conversation returned again to the rash.

She wondered if it might be "eczemo" (her word) and if I could take a look at it for her. As I have Eczema myself, and am pretty comfortable with people and their bodies, I said alright, I'll take a look. she pulls up the back of her shirt in the middle of the store to show me this rash all up her back and on her sides (no where near the "rubbing underwear"). I was like, well, it does look like it may be Eczema, but I would definitely go to a Dermatologist or your family doctor about that.

"Do you think it could be MRSA?"

...

...

SERIOUSLY? You wanted me to get my face in your nasty rash to take a look at it for you and then afterward tell me you think it might be a horribly contagious disease?

Needless to say,I made passionate love to the Purell after she had gone. I've been sick much too much this year already from these filthy piggies.

--Former Grocery Slave

A Story Of A Sweet Old Lady, And Another Creepy Hair Fetish Custy

Dear RHU´ers,

Here is Soft Ice Girl again, with two stories.

The first one I merely witnessed, it´s from over the counter, but so, so sweet!

I went to the recreation park where I used to work, and stood in line for admission. While I didn´t have to pay, teeheehee, due to having worked there, I still had to show my employee´s card.

And then I heard loud talking on the cashier window:

Cashier: No, really, I can´t! It´s not right!

Older woman: Have it, child, buy yourself a treat!

Cashier: But I have never got tipped, and it´s much more than the ticket!

Woman: Yeah, well, I got promoted and thought about how to give something back. And you are always so nice. Since I figured that you don´t get tips, I think you should have.

Cashier: No, I...

Woman: Well, I have to go enjoy myself, bye-bye! *grabs her ticket from the counter and runs away giggling*

The cashier just sat there for a moment in awe, then pocketed the 20 Euros (tickets are just 7 or 8 Euros!) and continued selling, a smile on her face.

Since I have worked there, I know that tipping is not against the policy, in fact it never occurs, so there is no policy on it. The salary was ok, but not really Hard Ice Girl, so I guess that these 20 Euros made her day!

-------------------------

The other story got triggered by a post on RHU about people touching slaves´ hair.

This instantly made my blood boil and I have to get a story about it off my chest, which turned me into Hard Ice Girl.

I have very long, dark hair, it reaches my butt. I always wear it open.

Well, people really like looking at it and touching it, and with friends, I often feel like a my-little-pony-doll (I have nerdy friends :P) with all the braiding and combing and... And since I am not really shy, I cannot remember that I ever refused if a stranger asked nicely if he could touch it, because I get that it looks interesting.

BUT! Never ever should someone touch it without permission, simply because I am not a doll! Even at petting zoos, there are signs to approach the animals face-to-face first so they can go away if they do not like to get touched by you, yet some people think it´s ok!

So, one day, I was tutoring when I felt some gentle tugging on my hair, and as I turn around, there is a guy, touching it.

Hard Ice Girl: Excuse me?!?

Guy: Oh, your hair is so beautiful, and it is soft, too.

Hard Ice Girl *ripping my hair out of his hands*: How dare you touch it? I am not a petting zoo animal!

Guy: Oh, excuse me, I did not think you would mind.

Hard Ice Girl *a bit calmer*: Well, ok, just know that I do mind. If you want to touch somebody, you have to ask first.

I turned around again and continued to explain stuff, as this happens time and again, and I get that people can be oblivious and insensitive without even wanting or realizing it. No big deal.

But then, this stupid asshat took the cake!! About 30 seconds later or so (which means that it was a product of a thought rather than a stupid thing that you blurt out and want to rip out your tongue afterward), the guy says in my direction:

"As you wear them open, I thought you wouldn´t mind."

Hard Ice Girl: What?!?

Guy: Well, it is really beautiful, and if you wear them open, you have to know that everyone wants to touch it.

Hard Ice Girl: So, you mean I´m asking for it?!

Guy: Well, no, not like that, but if you wear it that way, you must anticipate what would happen.

At that point, Hard Ice Girl turned into Frozen Concrete Girl, and in order to prevent myself from beating the living crap out of this waste of oxygen and clean water, I just turned on my heel and marched right out, went to the toilet and cried out of burning anger.

When I got a grip on myself, I returned to the student and apologized for leaving mid-sentence. He said he understood and apparently he had told the asshat-guy to leave.

--Soft Ice Girl

Creepy Custy Has Hair Fetish

Hello everyone! I'm Framed. You may have seen me lurking the comments, but I've been sitting on a many, many stories for awhile now.

I picked Framed for my name because for the last almost 5 years, I've been working off and on in the custom frame shop of a prominent craft store, though I've had several other retail, food and general customer service jobs from which to draw on.

The frame shop is entertaining because it combines all the joy of crazy custys that come with retail, only they go that much crazier because of how much custom framing costs. The key word here is "custom." Yes, we help people for the entire framing department and if you can't drop a hundred dollars or more, we're good at finding other options, but our main money maker in that section is the custom jobs, so that's what corporate pays attention to.

Anyway, one of the Facebook blurbs reminded me of a particular customer. The Facebook commenter mentioned she would occasionally toss out compliments, but wondered when/if it got creepy. Well, this one falls firmly into the creepy category.

She was originally from Russia or one of the other Slavic countries created when the USSR broke up. Maybe it was a cultural thing, maybe she was just handsy. Every time she came in (which was at least once a week for more than 6 months) she latched onto something physical of whomever she was talking to.

She liked me because she learned the hard way that some people don't like to be touched, and while I wasn't comfortable, I wouldn't have a panic attack. She latched onto my hair, literally. A typical interaction with her consisted of her asking for help finding an item, as I walked out from behind the counter to lead her, she would put one arm around my shoulder, and her other hand would start stroking my hair, much like an owner would run her fingers through the coat of her prized Irish Setter.

She would then croon close to my ear, "Such beautiful hair, so thick, so lovely. You're wonderful, so good at your job. We open business together someday, no?"

I would normally read something like that and assume she was hitting on me, but the tone of voice was really like either praising a dog for not pooping on the carpet or the creepy unsub in a crime drama where the viewer would be sure that before the next commercial break the crazy lady would be standing over me with a pair of scissors and my head mostly bald.

She regularly did this to me and 2 or 3 others before she stopped coming to our store, which is another doozy of a story for another day.

May all your custys keep their hands to themselves!

--Framed