It's prom season. Two words that strike fear into the hearts of everyone working in juniors. The fitting rooms look like an episode of Hoarders, and the put-back racks are overflowing with ridiculously enormous dresses. It's enough to make anyone lose their sanity.
A few Saturdays ago, I was the lone closer in juniors, somebody having called out at the last second (fucking yay). I'm so busy ringing that I don't get a chance to see the fitting rooms for a few hours. But when I do, it's worse than I could have ever thought. Dresses everywhere. Some put back on hangers, some sprawled on the floor, some inside out, all for me to clean up.
An hour to closing, and I'm not even half done. A group of teenage girls comes into the fitting room, arms laden with prom dresses.
One of the girls notices the pained look on my face and asks me what's wrong. I tell the truth -- I'm the only closer and I have to clean and rack everything left behind in here.
"We'll help you."
"B....but you didn't do this," I say. "And it's every stall. It's not a small thing."
"Exactly," says another. "It's not a small thing, and you shouldn't have to do all this shit yourself."
Fast-forward 45 minutes. The fitting room is completely clear. The girls kept their word. Everything is off the floor, on hangers, and on a recovery rack. I'm practically in tears.
I'm so grateful that I give them all 25% off on their purchases (we're allowed to do that at Big Red Star, just "use your best judgement" and blah blah blah), and the pack of girls (and me) leave happy.
A little bit of my faith in humanity was restored that night.