Retail Hell Underground

Custy Ask's Shoe Salesmen For Medical Advice On Toes

Hello all!

Yeah, I've been lurking more than I should, but work at Legume's is taking more of my time and that's a good thing! The powers-that-be have increased my hours, so that means mo' money, mo' money, MO' money!

I'm going to take Freddie's advice about keeping work rants on the down-low, because I really like this job.

Buuuuuuut, something happened recently that I just have to share with y'all...

Just yesterday, two 60-ish Asian women were browsing the shoe department. After some minor language-barrier problems, I brought out several pairs of our lightweight hiking boots.

That's when the older of the two ladies took off her shoes and socks and I saw that the tips of her toes were black! (and not with dirt!)

She said something to her companion and the companion asked me, "What cause's that?"

In my head, I scrolled down the list of possible responses:

("Diabetes")

("Wearing shoes that are too tight")

("Long periods of inactivity")

("Frostbite")

and

("EEEWWWWW!")

But I settled on: "Ma'am, I'm not a doctor, but I think your friend should get that checked out...soon!"

She relayed that info, they both nodded and took their purchases up to the registers. Meanwhile, I'm thinking "Why would you POSSIBLY let a condition like that just slide? And why ask a shoe salesman for a medical diagnosis?"

I'm still shaking my head over that one.

...and the dance goes on.

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

 

Holiday Shopping Hell In Full Swing: Customers Are Losing It

Hello all!

What in the name of the dread Dormammu is WRONG with people? 

In just the past few hours, I've had:

- women come up to the register and empty their entire suitcase-sized handbag onto the counter, looking for their gift cards/coupons. Take into account they've been waiting IN LINE for several minutes! Or (here's a shocker) they could have made sure they had the cards before they left home!

- "low-talkers" by the dozens. "Hello, did you find everything you needed", I say. "mmm-uuu-hh-mm--return-mm-hhh-gift card-mmm-lost-ggg-hhhhh-mmm", they say.

- people put shirts/pants/coats on the counter, lean AGAINST the counter pinning said items between themselves and the counter and give me the stinkeye when I say "Excuse me" and try to pull on them.

- people try to return items they bought at one of our competitors. "You're all part of the same parent company, aren't you?"

- a guy who wanted to exchange a jacket. The problem arose when he thought he could just drape the old one over the nearest rack and walk out with the new one.

- folks who are shocked (SHOCKED!) that we can't guarantee that items they want monogrammed AND shipped will be delivered before Christmas.

- legions of storytellers. "I'm gonna be honest with ya', see my mom bought this stuff for me while I was in college and I put in my closet and forgot all about it and now I'd like to return it but instead of putting it back on HER credit card 'cause her cards got stolen I'd like to have it all put on THIS credit card but I don't have any I.D. 'cause my cousin took it to buy beer the other night and didn't give it back and he got arrested and I really wanted the BLACK jacket but y'all stopped making it or somethin' and I'm going to Canada next week so will that be in American money or Canadian money?"

- people who think the roped-off area in front of the registers with the sign "LINE STARTS HERE" is for lesser mortals. They just walk up and start talking. When called on it, they offer up "I'm parked in the FIRE lane!" or "My children get out of school in TWENTY minutes!"

- couples who are so busy bitching at each other they put a sour taste in my mouth:

"Why are you buying the TAN ones? They'll look RIDICULOUS on you!"

"I'm a GROWN-ASS man! I'll buy what I WANT to buy! It's MY money, goddammit!"

"Well, if you want to throw your money away, go ahead! My mother was right: you ARE an idiot!"

and lastly...

- the guy who brought back a TWENTY(!) year old jacket held together with DUCT TAPE(!!) and wanted the original purchase price in cash. As my son would say, "That's classy with a capital K."

...and the dance goes on.

Peace.

--Joe The Cigar Guy

Custy Makes Hilarious Comment About Flagship Outdoor Clothing Store

Hello all!

Yeah, it's been a while. The two biggest reasons for that are: Work pretty much tires this old fart out, and I'm a CHAMPION procrastinator.

Life at J.J. Legume has been, and continues to be, a blast! My co-workers are funny, energetic and very conscientious. And with lines of custys literally out the door, those traits come in real handy. 

A few observations:

- A few customers have recognized me from my years at Lord & Taylor (both shops are part of the same mall) and mentioned, "This place really seems to suit you better!"

- Here at Legume, pretty much everything is the house brand. This took some getting used to, since back at L&T clothing was grouped according to manufacturer, Polo here, Lacoste over there, etc. And because everything is pretty much the house brand, I've had to memorize all the northwoods-inspired names for all the shirts, pants, jackets and coats.

- Computers around the store allow customers and employees to look up various items. This brings to light the fact that not that many people (yours truly included) are as computer-literate as they thought.

- Legume prides itself on its 100% customer satisfaction guarantee. Most people take that in the spirit in which it's meant. Others however take that as a challenge to scam the system. Take the skeevy-looking dude with the green teeth who came in recently to return a pair of 10-year(!) old boots. "Can I get that refund in cash?"

- "Do you need gift receipts or boxes?" 

That's not really a difficult question, is it? But judging from the blank stares I've been getting, you'd think I'd just asked them to solve Fermat's Last Theorem.

- When an item in the catalog has the notation "Catalog sales only", it means it's not available in the store! Please don't wail and gnash your teeth and tell me, "We drove here from Tierra del Fuego and you're telling me you don't have it?"

- All my co-workers are WAY more physically fit than I am. I blame the years at Lord & Taylor working my last nerve for that. Anyway, it's like being a national park ranger. I was eating my lunch yesterday ( a store-bought microwaved lasagna) when a co-worker commented, "Eww, that's stuff's just packed with preservatives, ya know!?" I just grinned and said, "Well, right now it's preserving me!"

- And lastly, an elderly gent came in the other day with his hot Asian nurse? companion? bodyguard? He was looking for several specific items, which I helped him find.

As he was making his way to the registers, he asked me, "Have you ever been to Legume's main store?"

I allowed as how I hadn't.

"Well, you really ought to go", he said. "They're all stoned up there! Every single one of 'em! I think that's just GREAT! You have yourself a great day and thank you for your help!"

...and the dance goes on.

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

Bittersweet Memories of Retail Hell

Hello all!

I'm BAAAAACK!

The whole job search thing was fairly painless this time; most of the retailers that interested me now have online application procedures. I just filled in the vital stats and, within a week or two, actually heard back from a few of them. There's an old saying that "the closest we ever come to perfection is on our resume" and it was no different with me.

("Are you REALLY pre-cognitive?")

("I KNEW you were going to ask me that!")

Anyway, I am now gainfully employed at a major outdoor clothing retailer I'll call "J.J. Legume". The people are friendly, the merchandise is great and I am one happy cigar guy. But the transition does have some bittersweet elements to it.

What I'll Miss at Gord & Raylor:

- The camraderie with my co-workers

- My favorite customers, including an Army medic who was awarded The Medal of Honor.

- The employee discount.

What I WON'T Miss:

- Never being able to please my manager

- Being made to feel like a 2nd-class citizen because I have a penis

- Gangsta wannabe's swiping all the Polo regalia

- The preternaturally perky Store Manager talking to me like I'm 5 years old

- Being denied advancement for other people's behavior (e.g., custys not wanting to sign up for the store credit card) 

- Wearing a suit and tie all day no matter whether the store's A/C was working or not

- The lame piped-in music

- The stench of mildew weeks after a sprinkler pipe burst (Management denied it; custys always noticed it)

- The daily battle over coupons (our store did not allow us to keep coupons by the registers; other stores in the chain did- WTF?)

- The reverberating screams of mortal agony coming from Santa's Village

- Being told to stay during snow emergencies, even though the store and the mall had been empty for hours

- ...and many more...

So wish me luck, gang! I'll keep you posted.

...and the dance goes on.

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

 

Lord And Taylor Manager Bitch From Hell Gets Told By Joe As He Reaches Tipping Point

RHU Monster Blogger Joe, the Cigar Guy gets a special Retail Balls Award for deciding enough is enough and taking the kind of soul-saving action that requires some massive retail kahones...

Hello all!

Well, it's official: I quit my job at Gord & Raylor today. I'd been fantasizing about telling my manager off and walking out the door for a while. Today, I did a little of the former and a lot of the latter.

Yeah, I know quitting a job in this economy isn't the smartest move, but I'd had all I could take. I knew something was up when my manager wouldn't look at me during the morning rally. On the way upstairs, I complimented her on winning the Best Sales Manager Award for fiscal August. "Yeah...I USED to get it every few months, but not NOW", was her response. An hour later I was summoned to the Store Manager's office. Talk about being blind-sided! I walked in there thinking, "Uh-oh, I'm getting the "Close the door behind you" treatment. What's up?"

My manager proceeded to read a list of tasks I'd supposedly screwed up dating back to July! She also said that the Visual Displays person was angry at me because she completed a task I was assigned. She then said my co-workers "perceived" I wasn't pulling my weight. Then came the tipping point: "We COULD terminate you right now, but, out of the goodness of our hearts, we're going to give you one more chance."

Now folks, I'm Irish and I'm 60 years old. I know bullshit when I hear it. I've seen Gord & Raylor put the screws to sales associates, receiving crew and managers alike. If they swallowed their pride and submitted, they had to do everything up to and including cleaning up puke and working for free to prove they were "team players".
I thought about signing the sheet that said I was a bad boy. I thought about trying yet again to be the subservient, inexhaustible sales associate they wanted me to be. Then I thought better of it...

"Why don't I just save us ALL a lot of grief and accept a position elsewhere!"

And I walked out with cries of, "You have to sign the acknowledgement form" ringing out behind me. Now, I'm dreading telling Mrs. Cigar Guy that it's back to ramen noodles for a while, but GODDAMN that felt good!!!

...and the dance goes on.
Peace.

-- Joe the Cigar Guy

 

 

Coupon Hell: Lazy Discount Rat Gets Told

Joe gets a Retail Balls Award for standing up to ridiculous Discount Rat who threw a tantrum and played the race card. Our man Joe did not back down:

Hello all!

No set-up today, just the dialogue...

Me: "Did you find everything you needed, sir?"

Custy: "Yeah, sure did. This is a pretty good sale you're having."

- "Yeah, we're trying to clear out all the summer stock to make room."

- "That's 60% and a extra 20% off, right?"

- "Yes sir, with the coupon."

- "Well, I don't HAVE the coupon. I still get the 20% off, right?"

- "Well if you don't have the coupon, do you have texting on your cellphone?"

- "Yeah, why?"

- "Great! Just text the word "SALE" to the number ***** and you'll get a code that I can enter here at the register that'll save you the 20%."

- "That sounds like a lot of work. Look, I've been shopping here for years. Just do whatever it is you do to take off the 20."

- "It'll just take a few seconds, sir, and you'll get the codes for future sales too without having to clip coupons."

- "You know what? This is bullshit! I'm the CUSTOMER here!"

- "Yes you are, but-"

- "I'm going to go to another register and you can bet your ass THEY'LL give me the 20!"

(So he grabbed his stuff and stormed off. Ten minutes later, he's back.)

- "THEY gave me the discount, SMART GUY! What do ya' think of THAT?"

- "I think: good-for-YOU."

- "You know what? You're an ASSHOLE! I bet you would have given me the discount, no questions asked, if I was WHITE!"

- "You want to get RACIAL with this now?"

- "You goddamn RIGHT I want to get racial! You know what? Take off that fancy suit jacket and we can settle this outside right NOW!"

- "What are we, back in HIGH SCHOOL now? You think we're gonna go throw down in the parking lot? Are you INSANE?"

- "NO I'm NOT!"

- "Well you MUST be if you think I'm gonna fight because YOU didn't have a COUPON!"

- "You're a racist ASSHOLE! I WILL be back and I WILL kick your ass!

- "I'll be right here."

So, he left in a huff. Actually he left in a minute and a huff.

The best part: the head of Loss Prevention was standing about 12 feet away the whole time. He told me, "If he comes back, call me IMMEDIATELY."

I'm getting too OLD for this shit!

...and the dance goes on.
Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

 

 

Entitled Custys Want Department Store To Hold Their Personal Stuff During Concert

Hello all!

I'm going to keep this one short and sweet. The mall where I work is very close to a major outdoor concert venue. This past week, a jazz fest was scheduled.

On Saturday, I'm selling/dusting/folding when two refugees from a cosplay convention came up to my register.

Girl #1 had a silver and purple wig with a HUGE black bow in it. Girl #2 had a bright red wig. Both were wearing Sailor Moon outfits and lots of eye makeup. Girl #1 holds up her handbag which is the size of a standard garment bag.

-"HI! Can I leave this here with you?"

-"Excuse me?"

-"Can I leave this here with you while we go to the concert?"

-"No ma'am. I'm sorry, but you can't."

-"Well, why noooooooott?"

-"Because Gord & Raylor is not a storage facility, ma'am. No one here can watch your bag for the next 3 to 4 hours. Why don't you lock it in your car?"

-"Because the car is parked on the other side of the mall! Like a MILE away! DUH!"

They walked away muttering. I banged my head on the counter a few times and then I felt better. I told my manager about it. She said, "You think it's bad up HERE? Down on the first floor, they're bringing in baby strollers and wheeled coolers and asking the same thing!"

So I ask you, RHU'ers: anybody ever dealt with a similar situation?

...and the dance goes on.

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

 

Loading Dock Hell

From Joe The Cigar Guy: Here's what our loading dock looked like tonight. Multiple truck deliveries meant tons of new stuff to each department. The best part? We're being audited tomorrow. Major demerits for "merchandise not displayed properly." That's kinda like cops setting up a radar trap at the bottom of a steep hill, isn't it?

 

When Custys Make "Helpful" Suggestions

Hello all!

Today's musings are brought to you by the well-intentioned, but dim, custys who have graced my beloved Mens Department recently.

Time and time and time again, I've heard a sentence begin, "Y'know, you really ought to..." and my jaws start to clench. Because I know what's coming next is going to be a helpful (in their minds) hint as how to make Gord & Raylor a better place to shop.

So I'll force a smile and pretend to listen attentively, all the while playing a certain little song in my head.

"Y'know, you really ought to tell management to keep the various displays in the same place, instead of moving them around all the time!"

(Everywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feeeet, boy...)

"Y'know, you really ought to tell your buyers to get more slim-fit suits in here!"

('Cause summer's here and the time is right for fighting in the streeeet, boy...)

"Y'know, you really ought to upgrade your cash registers. They're what, 1990's technology?"

(But-a what can a poor boy do...)

"Y'know, you really ought to turn the air conditioning on in this place! It's HOT in here!"

(Except to sing for a rock n' roll band...)

"Y'know, you really ought to stop asking for ID when issuing a cash refund! It's SO embarrassing!"

('Cause in sleepy London Town...)

"Y'know, you really ought to get more hot CHICKS in here, man! No offense, but you're like, OLD n' shit!"

(There's just no place for a Street Fighting Maaaaan! No!)

After they're gone, I just bang my head on the counter a few times and Mick and I talk about rockin' out and getting wasted and chasing birds and then, I'm all happy again.

...and the dance goes on.

Peace

--Joe the Cigar Guy

Anatomy of An Asshole Boss

Hello all!

Way back in the olden days, after Man had been created, the parts of the body had a bit of a disagreement.

The Head said, "Well I'm on top AND I've got the Brain and most of the sensory bits. I should be the Boss."

The Heart said, "I pump life-giving Blood to every one of you guys. I should be the Boss."

The Stomach and Intestines said, "We digest all the chow. We should be the Boss."

The Legs said, "We carry all you guys. We should be the Boss."

And then the lowly, little Asshole spoke up and allowed as how he should be the Boss. All the other body parts thought this was hilarious and started laughing. This made the little Asshole angry. So he clenched up tight and didn't let a single bit of poo pass. After a few days of this, the Head was throbbing with pain. The Brain couldn't think straight. The Heart was beating faster. The Blood was full of toxins. The Legs grew weak. Needless to say, the Stomach and Intestines were well and truly screwed as well. They all finally agreed that, for the greater good, they should let the little Asshole be Boss. He promptly loosened up and let all that nastiness pass. The status quo reigned, proving yet again, that you don't have to be strong or smart or magnanimous to be a Boss.

You just have to be an Asshole.

I mention this little parable because of a run-in with my manager at Gord & Raylor. Mostly she's been a real stand-up kind of person. But lately, she's really drunk the corporate Kool-Aid and turned into a, well, y'know.

Whereas she would have secretly laughed at some of the corporate pronouncements in the past, everything now is carved in stone and MUST BE OBEYED! I'm not saying she let stuff slide or that the work didn't get done, but there was a sense of fun to the day that now is gone.

Being friendly, selling an average of $1000 a day, putting up new stock, keeping an eye out for shoplifters, answering the phones, dusting and polishing, resolving custy complaints 38.5 hours a week isn't good enough anymore. She now insists that I get every customers' e-mail address and get them to sign up for a company credit card (24% APR!!!) When that doesn't happen, I hear, "These are job REQUIREMENTS! You could be FIRED!" I have to take my break at exactly the assigned time. When I can't, due to dealing with customers, I hear, "You snooze, you lose!"

I guess my main complaint is that the corporate world has a way of taking extremely competent, affable, human beings and turning them into burned-out, hollow-eyed little droids. I've seen it again and again and it pisses me off! Thus endeth the rant.

...and the dance goes on.

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

Joe On Coming To Work Sick

Hello all!
I'm gonna keep this short and sweet.
DON'T come to work if you're really, really sick!

I know we've all got bills to pay and missing a days' pay really sucks, but JEEZUS! Two co-workers have recently dragged themselves into work. Here's what happened:

1.) They were late. That's not a huge deal, but when you've been told you can't leave the sales floor until your relief shows up AND your bowels are tying themselves in knots from last nights' chili feast, well...

2.) Vocally, they both were doing an amazing impression of Linda Blair in "The Exorcist", scaring the custys and me.

3.) Not that much actual work was done.

4.) After hearing just how horrible they felt for the hundredth time, I just didn't give a fuck!

I know I'm a bad person for saying that but, dammit, now I'VE got the crud. Helloooo NyQuil!

...and the dance goes on.
Peace.

Joe the Cigar Guy

Awkward Advertising

From Joe:

I saw this at the Sephora store in the mall. WTF?

--Joe

Return Hell: Joe's Crazy Bitch Encounter

Hello all!

I'm glad to see we all survived Christmas more or less unscathed. That being said, some recent posts here on RHU reminded me of something my son, the cop, once said:

"Dad, it's the best way to meet the public: heavily armed and wearing body armor."

This year, as opposed to last, I was READY for the last-minute crazies, the NAT's, the shrieks of mortal agony coming from Santa's Village and the earwig that is "Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. The very next day, you gave it away...". AAAARRRGGHH!

Sorry. I kinda lost my mind there. I'm better now. Anyway, as we all know, for every action, there is an equal and opposite RE-action. After the purchasing of tons of merchandise, comes the RETURNING of said merchandise.

Most of these transactions took less than 30 seconds:

- Custy presents receipt.

- Custy pulls item out of bag.

- I scan receipt and item.

- I say, "This will put $xx.xx back on your credit card."

- I staple original and return receipts together and present them to custy.

- "Thank you for shopping at Gord & Raylor. Have a great day!"

-FINIS-

Buuuut...then SHE walked in!

After you've been dealing with the public for a while, you know how you just KNOW someone's gonna be trouble? Well I got that feeling BIGTIME when I spotted HER. All I can say is that it must be akin to Spidey Sense.

Her hair was jet black and held in place in a classic Liz Taylor-as-Cleopatra 'do. In fact, Cleo must have been her inspiration, because she had WAAAAAY too much eye makeup on. I thought, "Honey, the casting for Night Of The Living Dead is OVER!"

The next things I noticed were her leopard-print coat and patent-leather boots marching (click-click-click) right on over to my register.

"I'm returning dees." (a $400 suit and several sweaters featuring a man-on-horseback logo)

"Yes ma'am. May I see your receipt?"

"Vhut?"

"Your receipt. May I see it please?"

"I DON'T HAVE RECEIPT! YOU PUT PRICE BACK ON CARD NOW!"

(Are you kidding me? You go to DefCon 4 when I ask for your RECEIPT?)

"Alright ma'am, may I have the card?"

"I don't HAVE card! You look up card number NOW!"

"Ma'am, for YOUR safety, sales associates can't access customers' credit card numbers."

At this point, she does the eye-roll and the forced exhale. "I'm not gung to waste my TIME with you! Call the Store Manager NOW! (Right to the Triple Dog Dare! I'm impressed!) I called the Manager and explained the situation: no receipt, no price tags, no credit card, and the piece-de-resistance, no I.D.! The manager quite rightly says, "NO return!"

Well, girlfriend goes absolutely APE-shit! She pounds on the glass display case. (I fully expected it to shatter.) She looks around for an audience, and spotting a few folks nearby, launches into a performance worthy of the Barrymores. 

"You SEE how dey treat people here? Do you SEE? They are liars and THIEVES here! They CHEAT you and STEAL YOUR MONEY! They are RUDE and STUPID here! They are...NO GOOD!" (That last bit was said with such vehemence that she nearly pitched over!) "YOU. GET. STORE. MANAGER. HERE...NOW!!!"

"No."

"WHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?"

"I said no. My manager has already told me not to accept the return. Now please step aside. Who's next?"

And the next person in line quickly put their merchandise on the counter. It was fun to watch Cleo stand there and sputter: "Vhut? Vhut? Vhut? Vhut? Vhut?"

If it had ended there, I would have been a very happy man. But she wasn't done by a long shot. She continued to harangue passersby for about ten minutes. Then she shot me The Look Of Death and stormed (click-click-click) downstairs to the executive offices. Ten minutes later, she was back with the Store Manager. Luckily, I was at the register at the ass-end of the department. But I could still hear "...RUDE!...STEAL!...FIRE!...

"I. SHOP. HERE. NO. MORE!"

Oh, if only I could have stayed back by the mens shoes and socks until the whole thing worked it way out, but no. The Manager sought me out and explained that She-Beast had the pickup slip from the pre-sale for all the items in question. (Before we have the Super-Duper Really Big Sale, we offer damn near everything at the sale price. You can pre-purchase stuff, but you can't actually take it with you until the day the sale starts.) Using her managerial override, she was able to backtrack the store records and discover price and SKU numbers for everything.

So...Cleo got her money. And what good is Victory if you can't shove somebody's face in it?

(click-click-click-click-click)

"I GOT MY MONEY! I GOT MY MONEY! YOU ARE NOTHING! NOTHING!! YOU ARE JUST A...A...PERSON! YOU...YOU...(hissing)WORK FOR A LIVING!!!"

Guilty as charged, honey. Guilty as charged.

...and the dance goes on.

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

 

Joe's Custy Needs Sizing Help

From Joe the Cigar Guy:

Hello all!

It being Christmastime at Gord & Raylor, I'm ready for dumb questions, but I wasn't ready for this:

Custy: "If my husband wears a size 10 shoe, what size gloves does he wear?"

Mrs. Cigar Guy suggested this rejoinder: "Well ma'am, that depends on the size of his penis!"

...and the dance goes on.

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

 

Custy Wants Discounts For Hanukkah

Hello all!

File this one under "Chutzpah."

Custy brings a menorah package (complete with gelt) up to my register.

Custy: "I want my discount."

Me: "Yes ma'am. Do you have a coupon or savings pass?"

Custy: "No, but I want my discount."

Me: "What discount is that, ma'am?"

Custy: "Well...Hanukkah started last night. So I get 50% off, right?"

...and the dance goes on.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

Happy last night of Hanukkah RHUers! Watch out for those Menorah Discount Rats! Take a dreidel to work and if any of them give you shit, throw it at them!

  

Joe: Custys Overcome By Stupid Gas

Hello all!

I know it's been a while since I last posted.

Lemme 'splain. Back in July, I was at work when I suddenly felt very weird. What started as a killer headache progressed into numbness on my right side. My co-workers said I then started talking gibberish (more than usual, that is) and then I fell sideways into a rack of clothing. A week later, it happened again.

Fast forward to today: we know what it ISN'T. It isn't a trans-ischemic attack (aka "mini-stroke"). It isn't an atrial septal defect (aka "a hole in the heart") and it isn't those shape-shifting aliens from Star Trek (pick an episode, any episode).

The doctors say the most likely candidate is a sporadic hemiplegic migraine. (Why do all these conditions have three names?) Testing continues, so I got THAT goin' for me!

On to mo' better stuff!

I'm thoroughly convinced they're spraying Stupid Gas in the mall and environs. How else to explain:
 
- The woman who walked up to my wrapstand, which is 25 feet from the HUGE entrance from Gord and Raylor to the mall, and asked, "How do I get into the mall?"

- The guy who boosted a designer jacket, walked out wearing it, returned a week later still wearing it to steal a larger size and, when caught by LP, said he was entitled to "an even exchange".

- The woman who tried to return used makeup, in the mens department, and was mightily pissed when I told her she'd have to go downstairs to the cosmetics counter. ("I don't have time to go ALL THE WAY DOWNSTAIRS!")

- The multitude of custys who are shocked, SHOCKED to hear that we charge for shipping.

- The woman wearing a full burqa who carried about 15 items into the mens fitting room accompanied by her husband and kids and then tried to get me to remove the sensor tags from a bag-full of clothing she claimed they bought at an outlet store, in DUBAI!

- The woman who maintained I "contaminated" her purchases when I moved them to the side of the wrapstand that was over the wastepaper basket.

- The co-worker who wanted me to call 24 hours before her scheduled time-in to remind her, because "...reading the schedule is too haaaarrrd!"

and lastly..

- The custys who now, in late October, can't understand why we don't have rack after rack of shorts, t-shirts, swim trunks and flip-flops. ("It's not autumn EVERYWHERE, stupid!")

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

 

Joe: Sale Custys Misbehaving Badly

Where to start, where to start?

We're having a big sale at Gord and Raylor and that seems to bring out the people who have absolutely NO idea how to behave in public.

"Give us some examples, Joe!", I hear you say. Okay, you asked for it:

Case Number One

A woman (she was no lady) snapped her fingers at me. "Can we PLEASE get some service here?"

"Yes ma'am, how can I help you?"

"Can you explain to me why these (men's underwear) packages are SEALED?"

"Excuse me?"

"My husband wants to try these on and they're stapled SHUT!"

"Ma'am, we don't allow people to "try on" underwear here in the store."

"Well, that's just STUPID! Why?"

"Ma'am, would YOU want to put on underwear that's been tried on by ten to thirty people a day?"

"No! But men are different."

"So you're saying it's okay if your husband gets a urinary tract infection or something worse?"

"Don't be so melodramatic, honey! C'mon Harry, let's go to Macy's!"

Case Number Two

Another part of my job is checking the fitting rooms. Custys leave anywhere from one to, seemingly, a thousand pieces of clothing on the floor.  

I'm ready for that , but not this:

I went into the fitting rooms by the Loungewear section and, sitting on the bench in room #1, with the door wide open, was a naked old man.

He was staring off into the distance and breathing heavily.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"Huh?"

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm just tryin' on a couple of suits."

"Okay, I'll just shut the door here."

And I left.

Ten minutes later, I see him wandering the other side of the store. Sure enough, the suits are in a pile on the floor. No biggie. Happens all the time.

About ten minutes after that, I went to check the fitting rooms by Athletic Wear. Guess who's there? Naked again? With the door wide open again!?

"SIR, if you're going to undress, SHUT the door!"

"Huh?"

"SHUT. THE. DOOR!"

"Ohh. Okay. You don't have to shout, y'know!"

So, you tell ME: absent-minded old codger or exhibitionist? 

Case Number Three

I know we all like to get our way all the time, but the sensible among us realize that's an impossibility. The big sale, like all big sales, has some exclusions. Things that are already marked way down and some designer lines are typically among these exclusions.

My co-worker, who was born and raised in Russia, was trying to explain this to a crusty.

"Me'm, coupon does not apply to diss pair-huf'-jeans, but it DOES apply to all your other items."

"The coupon SAYS "SALE"!

"Yes me'm, but hif you look on back huf coupon, it says deez (brand name) jeans not on sale."

"Well there oughta be a SIGN or somethin', SAYING that!"

"?????"

"Why the hell they let you people work here anyway is beyond me! You can't even speak English! Why don't you go back where you CAME from?" 

That's when my co-worker (let's call her Irina) said in her heaviest accent:

"Dot's good I-DEE-UH! I VILL go bock vere I come from! Do svidaniya, tovarich! 

And she turned on her heels and walked away from the dumbfounded bitch.

Me? I had to run to the break room and laugh my ass off!

...and the dance goes on.

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

  

------------------------------------------------------------------------***-------------------------------------------------------------------

(Cigar Guy's Log: Supplemental)

As requested by Postal Slave, there is indeed further news of Bryan, The Fake Marine.

My buddy (let's call him Bob, 'cause that's his name) was working the counter at the smoke shop. The door chimes sound and Bob looks up to see a tall, lanky white guy in U.S. Army desert camo. The guy is grinning from ear to ear and Bob still doesn't recognize him.

"Hey Bob, how's it going?"

"Holy shit! BRYAN?"

"In the flesh."

And there was much hand-shaking. Then Bryan got down to it. He told Bob how he was really sorry for cooking up the whole Marine thing, but he'd always wanted the respect that goes with being in the military. He just didn't want to actually BE in the military. After he got fired from the smoke shop, he bounced around a couple of months doing nothing except partying with his buddies. Then, one morning as he was suffering with yet another hangover, he took a long, hard look at himself. He didn't like what he saw: a young guy with no job skills to speak of, no prospects, no goals, no real relationships. He told Bob that he thought (briefly) about suicide, but realized that it was a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

He finally got the guts to walk into an Army recruitment office and tell his story, his WHOLE story. In resulting meetings, the recruiters didn't mince words. The U.S. Army doesn't like losers, liars or cheats, BUT if Bryan would make a solemn vow to himself and his country, them maybe, just maybe he could be a soldier. 

Now I don't know if Bryan will cut it in the Army. Hell, he might have already washed out, but you called it, Dukenator: Bryan took a mighty big step. I hope he makes it. 

Joe: Random Gripes From Department Store Hell

Hello all!

Many thoughts come to me while reading RHU. I guess the most prominent one nowadays is "Thank CHRIST I haven't been physically assaulted like some of my fellow slaves!"

It's only a matter of time, I guess, before we all have to carry pepper spray and Tasers. Of course, we'll then be fired for RESISTING an ass-whupping, but I digress.

No, the nutcases I deal with on a daily basis are your garden-variety. A sampling:

- People who are very short/ tall/ fat/ skinny/ steroided, bitching that we don't carry their size.

Really? This comes as a surprise to you, Skippy? You know what size you are. You know that department stores, unless they advertise otherwise, aim for the middle of the spectrum. If you're a grown man who takes a size 6 shoe, or if you're shaped like the Liberty Bell, of if you make the WWE wrestler The Ultimate Warrior look puny by comparison, please go somewhere else.

- The folks that want a discount because, "I shop here all the time!"

Well, I've worked the 10 am to 6 pm, 1 pm to 10 pm and the 2 pm to 11 pm shifts, five days a week since last October and I've never laid eyes on you before now!

- The octogenarians who are shocked, SHOCKED that it isn't, in fact, 1949 anymore.

"These prices are OUTRAGEOUS!"

"Sir, $79.99 for a pair of wool/ cashmere trousers is actually quite reasonable."

"I've never paid more than twenty dollars for a pair of pants in my LIFE!"

"Well,  that would explain why the waist of your pants is up over your nipples. And the foot and a half of Argyle sock you're showing."

"What?"

"Never mind."

- The folks who "forgot" to bring their coupons.

"I have a "20% OFF" coupon, but..."

"No, no, don't tell me. You left it at home."

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Because you're the 27th person today to say that. It was a guess on my part."

"So, do I get the discount?"

"Let me answer that question by asking another. Where do you shop for groceries?"

"Barris Feeter. Why?"

"Have you ever told the checkout person, "I've got a $2 off coupon for that, a $1 off coupon for this, a buy one - get one free coupon for those, but I left them all at HOME"?

"No!"

"Well, you've got your answer." 

- The people who wait until, sometimes literally HOURS before an event to go shopping for a suit. And expect to get alterations. 

For free.

Now.

Our seamstress (yes, we have only one) works seven days a week, from 10 am to closing, working on everything from shirts to suits to trousers to prom gowns. Try sewing a couple hundred sequins and beads on a gown and see how soon you get tired of it. Try dealing with crustys who don't want you to take their ACTUAL measurements, instead telling you how much weight they're GOING to lose by the time of the wedding/ funeral/ prom. I've heard these assholes call her every name in the book when she told them the price of the alterations. 

- And lastly, the people who think they can get their way by telling me that a lower-end competitor rolls out the red carpet and grovels appropriately "all the time".

"C J Nickle lets me return stuff two years after I bought it, without a receipt and gives me the full purchase price all the time!"

"Bull's -Eye allows me to return soiled undergarments all the time!" (Yeah, I know. I read the post. Eewwwww!)

"These pants got a big hole in them! (Yeah, because you just tore the sensor tag off in the fitting room!) I want my money back! Snears wouldn't give me all this buuuullshit! Receipt!? I lost that bitch!"

...and the dance goes on.

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

Joe: Fun and Games At The Gord

Hello all!

I'm all for cellphones. They're convenient. They're useful. They allow us to do things that our parents and grandparents would consider within the realm of science fiction, buuuuuutt..........

(cue harp glissando and wavy dissolve)

Yesterday, a co-worker told me a custy was having trouble picking out a tie and suggested I help her. 

When I walked over, I saw a very attractive woman standing at the tie counter.

On the counter were about ten ties of various colors and patterns. When I asked if I could be of assistance, I got the finger.

No, not "that" finger!

The "hold on a second, I'm on the PHONE" finger.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

All the while, I was treated to this:

"Yeah baby, this red one will look so GOOD on you! Hold on, lemme take a pitcher an' send it to you."

(click)

"Didja' get that? No? Lemme take another one."

(click)

Didja' get that one? Good! What do ya' think? You don't like it? Lemme take one of this navy blue one."

(click)

"That'll go great with your gray suit! Yeah, (giggle) I love you too. Yeah, I can't wait neither. I ..."

She looked over at me.

"Do you have any more that aren't so, so...SHINY?"

I told her I'd look though the other brands when the phone by the register rang. It was the Loss Prevention guy and he said he needed to see me in his office ASAP.

I turned to tell the woman that I'd be right back, but she was oblivious.

Down in the LP office, they'd caught a 16-year old who had boosted a pair of Sperry deck shoes. The kid looked like he was about to burst into tears.

The LP guy handed me the shoes and said he needed a price on them for the report. 

I ran back upstairs to find Yakky McGiggles still going strong on her cellphone. She hadn't even noticed I was gone.

"Oooh baby, don't say that! You know how that gets me! (giggle) Oh, you so BAD!"

Forty-five minutes later (!) she finished her phone sex session and actually bought some ties.

I'm willing to bet that Boyfriend was tired and happy.

Me? I was just tired.

Peace.

--Joe the Cigar Guy

 

  

The Fake Marine, Conclusion

Sorry for the delay, gang. I know the whole "To be continued" thing was a bit of a cop-out, but life at "the Gord" has not been a bed of roses lately.

As you may recall, we left The Fake Marine (let's call him "Bryan") floundering for an answer to the question: "What's your MOS?"

After much hemming and hawing, he claimed he FORGOT it! That's when the Army "Old Guard" vet knew he was a bullshitter, and not a very skilled one. Now I have to state two very important things at this point:

1.) I'd love to tell you that I wasn't taken in by Bryan's stories for a second, but that would be a big, fat lie. Hell, he had me buying him beers at the local pub! And...

2.) I'd also love to tell you that once his cover was blown, Bryan had the good sense to make himself scarce. But like any BS artiste who knows he's on to a good thing, he merely altered his tactics.

Bryan still hung out at the shop, but he maintained a low profile. My eyes were finally opened by the Army vet who told me, "Joe, if he's a Marine, I'm Ho Chi Minh!"

Perhaps the most outrageous part of the whole affair was that Bryan applied for and GOT a job at the cigar shop!

Both my co-worker and myself told the owners that we had our doubts about Bryan, but we were overruled. It appeared that Bryan had gone on the Internet and done some homework. He trotted out a whole encyclopedia of military jargon and the bosses bought it, hook, line and sinker.

Next, we were treated to Bryan's less-than-stellar work ethic. He showed up late. He showed up hungover. He couldn't seem to scare up a decent-looking shirt or pair of pants.

In succeeding weeks he "forgot" to clean the display cases, empty the ashtrays, take out the trash, put up new stock, arm the burglar system, and close out the cash register and credit card reader. But the piece de resistance was the night Bryan left the days'  take in the plastic bank deposit envelope on the display case by the front window for all to see! Close to a thousand bucks IN CASH waited patiently for me to open the shop next morning and find it. When I walked in, the phone was already ringing off the hook. 

Boss: "WHO CLOSED LAST NIGHT?"

Me: "Bryan."

Boss: "HE"S FIRED!"

Me: "Okay."

So there you have it, folks. Bryan called me on my cell about a month later to ask if I wanted to go have a couple of brews.

When I declined, he said, "I guess I screwed the pooch, huh?"

Yeah Bryan, you could say that.

--Joe The Cigar Guy