Retail Hell Underground

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

Queer Geek Encounters A Piggy Bitch In The New Gift Store

From: Queer Geek

RHU, how you doin’? I wanted to share another crazy story from the gift store. As I mentioned previously, I got the opportunity to open a new store in an affluent area of the city which was exciting. The great news is that it’s a really chill area full of cute boutiques, locals, and tourists. The bad news is that my company took over the space from another business that had been there for over fifty years. Here’s how it went down.

The original business used to be a General Store that catered to the locals and had a loyal following. Then another corporate General Store came into town and ran the original business into closing its doors after nearly five decades. Not to worry, the owners of the General Store took all their loyal customers and joined with another competitor down the street right across from the corporate one. Oh, the stories those employees must have from those two places! I would love to be a fly on the wall to see that!

Anyhoo, our gift store came in the middle of the controversy which divided the community. Half welcomed us, and the other half want to burn us in effigy but we manage to keep on trucking. Now being a small little privately owned business, we sell products that are affordable to bit a high end especially in the area where we’re located. Just to give you a feel, some of the pricier boutiques sell stuff Big Fancy and Needless Mark-up would sell from $500 belts to $1000 dresses so our price points fall right in the middle.

Now our store is clean, brand new with fixtures, lighting, and nice organized spaces and we sell nice gift items from apparel to greeting cards. Cue two snooty local ladies who came in to check out the place.

After going through our casual wear and dresses, trying on a couple dresses, and leaving a mess on the rack, they leave with an arrogant attitude which catches my attention when I overhear one of them make a snide comment.

“Yuck, this place reminds me of a T. J. Maxx,” one of the snooty ladies says. “There’s nothing here that’s special.”

I do everything to hold back my tongue as they leave. First of all bitch! That maxi-dress you dropped on our floor costs $50 and of great quality. We don’t give away our clothes and second of all, how would know T. J. Maxx unless you shopped at one? Did your rich bitch behind ever bravely go into a discount store? Take your overinflated ego and shop somewhere else. Your business is not appreciated here!

Uggh, RHU! When will we stop being the redheaded stepchild?

--Queer Geek'

Queer Geek's New Store Isn't Entirely Welcome

From: Queer Geek

Jeez RHU! Things at work are going cray cray especially when you’re trying to get a brand new store open and trying to get everything ready. I’m working like a dog without the prize of a bone dangling in front of me so my stress level is through the roof. Thank God for the miracle of meds to stabilize my mood!

Anyway, I mentioned before that I got transferred to a new gift store on the other side of town which is exciting. Now this particular area is very ritzy and has a good touristy population. However, it’s also very exclusive and garners a lot of political drama, especially when a new business enters into the fray. I can’t begin to tell you how many of the locals are checking us out with suspicion and love to share their insights with me. Here’s a couple.

Couple walks in.

Me: Hi, can I help you?

Custy: Oh I’m just checking out your new store. This used to be a General Store for many years. It’s so sad that they closed. I see you sell gifts. Well the other stores here sell gifts too. What makes you guys so special?

Me: I think we sell things customers might find interesting.

Custy: Hopefully, you guys last.

Hopefully, we last? Did that sound sincere? Call me crazy but it sounds like they want us to fail.

Here’s another. Custy walks in.

Me: Hello, how are you?

Custy: Fine. I see you just opened. This used to be a General Store for many years before they closed. You really should rethink what you guys are selling. Your merchandise might not do so well in this area. Good luck. Hope you do well.

Again, another hope you do well. Now I know that was a zing at the store. Now understand, I’m just a retail slave. I don’t make the decisions on what we sell or the location, but it seems that everyone coming in particularly from the locals are wanting us to fail which I have to tell you, RHU, sucks. I’m getting the impression that we’re the redheaded stepchild that everyone hates. Oh and that’s not the worst of it. We also have our competitors.

You want to talk drama. When you’re a new business RHU in town, you’re bound to have store owners coming in to spy on the merchandise. I get it. We might sell some things that are similar, and it becomes a cutthroat competition concerning pricing and merchandising to the point it becomes like the Hatfields versus the McCoys. Everyone is out for the blood, and I can’t begin to tell you how many spies visiting start to take notes on what we have. It’s only when we find out through our manager that our competitors are making calls in protest of some of the products as a kind of cease and desist order.

Boy RHU, I feel like a young Chris Rock from Everybody Hates Chris. The locals really aren’t welcoming. Oh well, I guess we’ll have to prove them wrong!

--Queer Geek

Queer Geek On Dealing With Young New Hires

Man, RHU, I’m on bitch mode this week!  Here’s why.  I’ve been given the chance for a better opportunity at the company’s new store that is opening up on the other side of town.  Now if you’ve ever been part of a grand opening, there’s plenty of stuff to do.  I’ve been working some insane hours and the overtime is raining like a Skittles rainbowbut I’m tickled pink since that means a big, fat paycheck coming up.

Well, the company is hiring some young, college age newbies and I guess I must feeling like the old curmudgeon because it seems these whippersnappers have lost any sense of work ethic.  I mean literally.  It seems that every time they come in, they complain about and bitch about everything to the point that I want to take one of our mannequins and beat them with their missing anatomical parts.

It’s always When do we leave?  When is our next break?  When is lunch?  Can we leave now?  Are we done yet?  I’m tired of folding these shirts.  I’m tired of carrying this box.  You mean I have to move this shelf?  I’m tired of hanging these clothes…blah…blah…blah…bitch…bitch…bitch…

Seriously, why did we hire these youngsters?  Be grateful you have a job!  You know how many people are killing each other for your position?  I’m waiting for the day when their hours are cut and they are pleading for more shifts.  Better yet, let me take your hours.  I definitely could use the money!

Uggh, RHU!  Am I getting old or has this generation gotten lazier?  I really hope these noobs know what it’s like to struggle during tough economic times and every hour counts on their pay!

--Queer Geek

 

Queer Geek: The Consequences of Raising The Minimum Wage

Hey RHU!  Long time, no post. 

I’ve been mostly sharing on our FB page under my moniker QG so feel free to friend request me!  Anyway, I wanted to write something a bit more serious that got a long trend our on FB site.  It concerns minimum wage.  Now if you’re like me, then you know that we slaves who work in the service oriented industry bust our humps for practically very little pay.  That is why in the U.S. , President Obama wants to up the average pay between $7.25-$8.00 to $9.00.  Sounds like good idea, right? 

Well there are some issues concerning this which I'd liked to put my two cents in.

In America, the median wage is between $7.00-$8.00 if you do not work in an industry where a tipping system is incorporated.  Servers earn even less, between $2.00-$3.00, and rely on tips to make a decent wage to survive on.  This is relative to the area and the cost of living in that particular region or state.  In other countries, minimum wage might be more than it is in America but then you have to consider the cost of living in that particular area and it all becomes relative.

Now how does this affect the average slave?  Well, you have to consider the cost of living.  Rent, housing, sales taxes, bills, groceries, utilities, childcare, etc.  That meager income can only cover so much that eventually many people have to turn to other resources like government aid and welfare.  Then you have to consider other important factors like health insurance.  In the U.S., some companies don’t offer health benefits and if they do they’re not always affordable so a slave like me usually takes the chance of skipping out on their health since they can’t afford the expensive costs of medical coverage.  Other countries that do offer good healthcare for their citizens, I salute you.  Here in America, you’re on your own.

Then there are the hours.  Normal full time hours should average 30-40 a week.  Usually, the 40 is reserved for upper management while struggling slaves earn an average 30.  Take into the consideration this troubled economy and companies have to scale back and administer less than 30 hours and if you’re earning minimum, there isn’t much of a paycheck to take home.  Hence, slaves are having to seek out other alternatives or multiple employment to make a decent income.

Call me cynical but Obama’s $9.00 bill won’t really change anything.  Even if wages increase so will prices on goods.  The inflation of products, rents, and even utilities will only put us back to square one.  Companies might even cut hours and benefits just to pay their employees so in the end it’s all relative.  Higher wages doesn’t mean a resolution but simply more problems to come.

So RHU, I post this food for thought for you. 

What do you foresee in the future if they do increase wages?

--Queer Geek 

It's Raining Crazy Custys! Hallelujah!

Okay RHU, we survived the Apocalypse of 2012 but now we have another year of retail enslavement to deal with!  For me, it’s this dang gone rain!  What is it with rain that brings out the worst in people?  Here’s another crazy time at the gift store.

We sell cheap ass $9 umbrellas.  I mean bottom of the barrel, break it first time, janky cover-ups that would make Mary Poppins curse up her Supercalifragilisticexpialiodocius chimney sweep ridden mouth.  Anyway, I hate ringing up these things but desperate custys that want coverage from the downpour end up grabbing them up like a bargain basement Black Friday sale.  Then when it craps out, all hell breaks loose!

Custy: I bought this umbrella five minutes ago and it’s defective!  I want my money back!”

Me: Sorry all Sales Final according your receipt and the sign. *points to sign*  I can exchange it for you or give you store credit.

Custy: *RAWR* YOU’RE CHEATING THE CUSTOMER!  YOU SHOULD STAND BY YOUR PRODUCTS!  I WANT A MANAGER!”

Manager tells custy same thing and this goes on repeatedly for each custy that purchased that cheap ass umbrella.  Basically people, you have to spend some extra dough for a good industrial sized umbrella but you get what you pay for!  It’s not my fault you forgot your umbrella at home!  Use that newspaper or a trash bag as a covering!

Then there’s Crazy Lady.  Crazy Lady has a chip on her shoulder and goes to my coworker who is folding shirts and starts a tirade on him.

Crazy Lady: You there!  You should stop doing that!

Coworker: Excuse me?

Crazy Lady: You should stop folding shirts and help me!  You should always help your customers!  Are you new?

Coworker: No.

Crazy Lady: You must be new.  Otherwise, you would know I needed help.

Coworker: (Did she even bother to ask for any or look for someone with a nametag?) Can I help you?

Crazy Lady: You need to help your customers!  I’m looking for something of good quality.  Price doesn’t matter.

Coworker: Are you looking for a shirt, a hoodie, or jacket?

Crazy Lady: YOU’RE NOT LISTENING!  I SAID I NEEDED SOMETHING OF GOOD QUALITY!  PRICE DOESN’T MATTER!

Coworker: Well we have these sweatshirts up here.

CRAZY LADY: THAT’S NOT WHAT I WANT!  I SAID I NEEDED SOMETHING OF GOOD QUALITY!  PRICE DOSEN’T MATTER!  WHERE’S YOUR MANAGER?

Crazy Lady goes to manager who shows her a jacket.  Crazy Lady gets all excited.

Crazy Lady: That’s what I want!  I was looking for a jacket.  *turns to manager* You need to train your employees better.

WTF?  You’re the one who needs a brain replacement!  My coworker asked you what you wanted but you wouldn’t tell us!  We can’t read your mind bitch!  Argh!

Now for something high-larious.  It’s pouring outside and next to our tourist section of town is a city park where local artisans sell their homemade wares.  It also includes so-called psychics offering to do tarot cards and palm readings.  Well one of the psychics who I refer to as Miss Cleo (remember her from the 90’s Psychic Hotline) walks in drenched like a drowned rat.  She goes and buys one of our cheap ass umbrellas.

Miss Cleo: Oh Lord!  It’s raining cats and dogs out there!  I didn’t see it coming.

Uh, you’re a psychic.  You didn’t foresee the weather being rainy?  Did your psychic powers fail you, Sylvia Brown?

She leaves for a minute and comes back with our defective umbrellas.

Miss Cleo: This umbrella doesn’t work!  I need my money back and some extra plastic bags.  My stuff is getting wet outside.

Manager makes an exception and refunds the lady’s $9 but in my head I’m thinking: Obviously the dead people you see hate you.  You would’ve seen the future and known that umbrella you bought was crappy!  Then again I’m psychic too.  I’m predicting that you’re a fake and my palms are telling me to give you the finger!

I wonder if John Edward or Whoopi Goldberg has this problem?

--Queer Geek

Oh Snap! Queer Geek's Politically Incorrect Coworker Humor

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS POLITICALLY INCORRECT HUMOR IN ALL FORMS.  IF YOU’RE OFFENDED BY THIS, THEN DO NOT READ FURTHER!  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

All right RHU, I have worked in my little rinky dink gift shop now for a few months and built an awesome rapport with my coworkers all of whom we treat each other like family.  With this close knit of a bond, we’ve become so comfortable with one another that we can communicate with biting sarcasm and wit in the form of politically incorrect humor whether to each other or toward an idiotic custy. Please note RHU that the people I work with are ethnically, sexually, and gender diverse so we tend to push the envelope when it comes to those sensitivity training manuals they make you sign in those employee training manuals.  

Quite frankly, we do everything that the employee handbooks tell you NOT do!  Here are just a few what I’d like to call “Oh snap” examples that make an outsider cringe, but we’ve somehow found humor in.  (Be forewarned, it might not be for the faint of the hypersensitive.)

 

Oh Snap Example 1: 

My African American coworker Naomi is folding some shirts on the table when a stupid custy in an attempt to be funny and to pick her up says the following statement, “You know you’re really good at folding shirts. Maybe you could come home with me and fold my shirts at home.”

At this point, my Latin coworker Rosa defends her.  “Sorry sir, but in this day and age, slavery is illegal!”

Naomi looks at the man and gives him a “Mmmhmmm, Master.”  Stupid custy backs off.

 

Oh Snap Example 2: 

Everyone knows I’m out at work and it’s no big deal.  We have an obnoxious security guard at our building who comes in regularly to flirt with Rosa.  Stupid security asks me the following question.

“Queer Geek, you’re a player,” he says. “You get to be around so many fine ass women.”

“Absolutely,” I reply.  “But I’m a gaysian and I bat for the same team.”

Rosa jumps in.  “Yeah, he love you long time.”

I grin as the security guard backs away.  “Give me five dollah!  I make you hollah!”

 

Oh Snap Example 3: 

My African American coworker John got dirt in his eye and he’s rubbing it as it turns red.   I notice this and ask him, “Are you crying?”

John shakes his head to which my other Latin coworker Pilar jokes.

“He’s crying because he just watch Roots!”

 

Oh Snap Example 4: 

If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m of Asian descent.  Well an obnoxious Asian couple comes in hounding me for a discount on already sale items.  I refuse and they leave disgruntled with their purchases.  African American John witnesses this and laughs.

“Maybe you should have reasoned with them,” he giggles.  “I mean you both speak the same language.”

“Both Asian,” I correct him.  “Different culture.”

“Well it’s hard to tell,” he jokes.  “You all look alike.”

I cluck my tongue, hand him a stack of boxes, and point to the high shelf.  Then I return the favor with a witty comeback.  “Here you’re tall and can reach the high shelves without a ladder.  It should be a breeze for your people! You’re all good at basketball!”

 

Oh Snap Example 5: 

My Latin coworker Pilar is full figured and is getting into comical argument with John about her make-up.  John is teasing her about how much she has on and I reassure her that she looks fine.

“See!  Queer Geek thinks my make-up is fine and he’s qualified to know!” She sticks out his tongue at John.

“He would be on your side.”  John rolls his eyes.  “That’s not fair.  He’s one of the girls.”

“That’s because he loves me,” Rosa jokes.  She sticks out her behind and smacks it.  “If he were straight, he would sooo want this juicy booty!”

“If I were straight,” I joked.  “I’d be a douche and I’d send you back in the kitchen, bitch!”

Rosa face palms me.  “Awww hell no!  I’d be wearing the pants in the relationship so you can go back to digging into your Chinese food!”

John interrupts with a snappy comeback of his own.  “That’s because she’d leave you, Queer Geek.  She lost all her proper documentation so immigration has to cart her away!”

 

OH SNAP!  Yes folks, this is the kind of political incorrect humor we share at my job!  Yeah, we’re all going to hell but I’m sure I’m not the only one who pushes the HR boundaries. Anyone else brave enough want to share theirs?

--Queer Geek

 

Queer Geek's Swimming With The Christmas Sharks

From Queer Geek:

Boy RHU!

The economy must be getting so bad that even a hooker is filing for unemployment!  Things at work are starting to slow down and the company is cutting my hours which sucks monkey balls so I’m scrambling to find a second part time job to supplement a survival income. Sadly being a seasonal tourist gift shop, we don’t get very much holiday traffic since your average custy is at the mall or at Hellmart scrambling for last minute deals.

Since this year has got me down thanks to being laid off and taking a small paying gig, I haven’t been in the festive mood these last few months. I’ve finally decided to get off ass and do some Christmas shopping for a few family members. Now I refuse to venture into a nearby mall because frankly I don’t want to deal with crowds and it only irritates me more as a reminder of losing my job at Big Fancy that I’ve decided to support my local businesses who are hurting for money during the winter season.

In the city, there are tons of cute boutiques and specialty shops that do really good during the summer but when winter comes, it drops like Lindsay Lohan on an alcohol binge.  I had to find some affordable gifts for two of my sisters and I thought I would support my local businesses in my area and find something unique and different for the two of them.  There are two Bath and Body type shops within a one block radius of each other.  The Spa Shop and the Lotion shop.

The Spa Shop is this ritzy looking place and I’ve always been curious about it so I brought my coworker friend of mine to tag along to help me with her opinions on gift giving.  

No sooner had we entered the Spa Shop waters when a swarm of sharks began circling us like bloody bait.  RHU, I have worked commissionable based sales and if you’ve read Freeman Hall’s book, you can easily spot the sharks within a thirty mile radius.  Sharks are the ones fellow salespeople hate because they will attack, chew, and gobble up any competing salesperson that gets in their way of a potential custy. Unfortunately, the prey was me and my coworker.

“Ode de Lavatory?” One ruthless Great White douses us with a bottle of perfume.  “Made from the finest essential oils and gathered from bowels of Antarctica.”  She shoves her fellow coworkers out of the way to get to us.  I’m pretty sure she even would have pissed on us just to mark her territory.

I take a whiff of the foul odor and inhale an aroma of human sewage.  I cringe.

“Peeyew!  It smells like Old French Whore!” My coworker bluntly states.  That’s one of the reasons I brought her along was because I admire her honesty.  The Great White ignores her comments and starts to bombard us with questions.

“You’re looking for a gift?” She rambles.  She was out for blood and she chomped on my leg and refused to let go.  “We have bath salt sets.  We have lotions sets.  We have body wash sets.  We have seaweed scrub sets.  We have skin care sets.  You buy!  Buy!  Buy!  Buy! Give me sale!  Give me sale!  Give me sale!”

I frown.  “Um, I’m just looking.”

I pull my coworker with me and we start perusing the shelves for affordable lotions and soaps but the Great White still stalks out waiting for her next meal.  Pulling a tiny box of lotion from the shelf, I look for the price and become surprised to find none.  Then it dawns on me.  Lotion shop is smart.  They don’t want to tell you the price because they want you spend hundreds of dollars without you knowing it.  Well I’m on a budget so I’m going to be careful on what I spend.  Great White runs up to me.

“That’s an oil base product great for the skin and curing wrinkles!” She spouts.  “You buy!  Buy!  Buy!  Buy!  You buy from me!  Give me sale!  Give me sale!   Give me sale!”

“How much?” I ask.

She looks at me like I offended her.  “Don’t worry about the price!  You buy!   Give me sale!  It’s $50!”

“$50?” My coworker gasps.  “What’s it made up clubbed seals and skinned pelts of polar bears?  No thank you!”

I put back the box on the shelf to which the shark starts pulling all sorts of products and tossing them at me.

“This is for skin!  This is for body!  This is for bath!  This smells good!  Only $200!  You buy!  Buy!  Buy!  Buy!  Give me sale!  Give me sale!  Give me sale!”

By this point, I’m so turned off that my coworker start to leave.  The Great White is still not finished with us.  She blockades the entrance and hands me her card.

“You come back to me!”  She tells us before letting us pass.  “I’m Great White!  You buy from me!  Buy!  Buy!  Buy! Give me sale!  Give me sale!  Give me sale!”

Frowning, we swim to shore faster than a screaming mob of desperate women at a Victoria Secret’s Black Friday sale. 

Luckily, we made it out alive. Disgusted with the Spa Shop, we head down to Lotion Shop a block away where a nice young college girl greets us.

“Hello,” she smiles. “If you need any help, let me know.”

Grateful that none of us are being pressured, we browse the store and score some awesome deals of soaps and lotions.  I was able to put together a Bath and Body set for both of siblings for under $10 compare to the $400 I might have been suckered to spend at Spa Shop. I guess when you’re desperate for sales during this time of year, the sharks will ruthlessly attack if they need to.

Happy Holidays, RHU!

--Queer Geek

Queer Geek's Ridiculous Holidays Song Parody

 

 

THE HOLIDAYS ARE RIDICULOUS (A Retail Parody of Jolly Old Saint Nicholas)

 

By Queer Geek

 

 

The holidays are now ridiculous,

The economy is in a rut;

Greedy corporations exploit their slaves

So to all you retailers: KISS MY BUTT!

 

Obamacare is coming soon;

Those greedy bastards live in fear,

Companies are cutting hours and benefits

By making slaves work 365 days a year.

 

Holidays no longer exist;

Slaves must give their last blood and breath,

Family time is frowned upon

The new retirement is now called Death!

Black Friday is now the norm

Mass consumerism is celebrated on what you spent,

Expect more employee layoffs next year

As unemployment rises eight percent!

 

Walmart demolishes union efforts,

J.C. Penney replaces workers with automatons;

Sears and Kmart are closing more stores

While Target cracks the whip and the ownership baton!

High end retail continues to push luxury goods

While that poverty line does not bend,

Hurry up!  You Apocalypse of 2012;

And make this rotten world end!

 

--Queer Geek

 

Train Ride From Hell: Drunk Dude and Mouthy Bitch Get Into A Fight

Hey RHU!  

I have to tell you that I’m starting to become a sociopath like serial killer Dexter Morgan after viewing the idiocies of people nowadays. Let me share my recent, crazy story.  

Many of you know that I work at a gift store in the city and since I close frequently I leave work often late.  Since I don’t drive or have a car, I take public transportation which is convenient especially with the high price of gas, paying for insurance, and emptying your pockets for parking.  (The city gouges out drivers by forcing them to pay for parking in any area of downtown.) 

Anyway, my mode of transportation is a city train which is like an outside subway.  It’s convenient for me since the fare is affordable and I live right across from a train station.  Since I often get off late, I experience the occasional nutjob, homeless wino, and drunkard which normally are harmless.  Now on this particular night, I’m riding home along with other late night workers when a group of drunk asses decided to hop on. The train passes through the city where most of the bars and clubs are situated so you can imagine all the fucked up lushes that pass out, vomit in the passenger car, or take a piss on the floor.

Well these drunken fools deciding to be loud and obnoxious but the passengers ignored them EXCEPT for one loud mouth shrew.  RHU, it’s my understanding that if you go looking for trouble you’ll find it.  This bitch decides to start something so already the passengers and I knew something was going to go down. Picture it, people!  Drunk asses chatting loudly and yelling when suddenly the shrewish passenger begins screeching.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“Excuse me?” One of the drunken males ask.

Shrew continued.  “I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP MOTHER FUCKER!”

“Noooo bitch!  Mind you damn business!”  The drunk dude snaps.

At this point, the shrew should have minded her damn business but did she?  Hell no!

“FUCK YOU!” She screams at the drunks.

“GO FUCK YOURSELF!”

The drunk responds.  “MAKE ME!”

Shrew stands up and so does the other drunken dumbass.  They meet toward the center car and argue like there’s no tomorrow.  At this point, all the passengers are scrambling because they know a fight is about to break out.  Me?  I’m tired, fed up, and pissed off that all I want to do is to go home.  Watching a fight between two idiots is the last thing that I needed.  I put on my ear phones and drown out the stupid argument with my I-Pod.  However even with the high volume, the pair are still going at it.

The shrew displays her mettle.  “GO AHEAD MOTHER FUCKER!  HIT ME!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP BITCH!” The drunk ass shouts.  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!  DON’T MAKE ME!”

“COME ON ASSHOLE!  I DARE YOU TO HIT ME!” She keeps challenging him.

“I’M TELLING YOU TO SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” The drunk fuck threatens.

The next thing you know drunk ass pushes the woman down hard.  She hits the floor and all the hell breaks loose.  Four of his buddies descend to help their buddy and then other passengers join in the fight. Suddenly all hell breaks loose and fists are thrown between passengers and drunk asses while other passengers are calling the cops on the phones are screaming for help.   

Me, I’m shaking my head and not caring acting like that viral video of the guy on San Francisco bus who kept texting while a football riot occurs around him.  I take a peek to see the shrew still mouthing off while her hair and face are plastered from the gum wrappers and trash after eating the train floor.

Finally, cops arrived.  Drunken asses are hauled into the paddy wagon including the woman who instigated the argument.  After fifteen minutes of a delay, the train finally moves and we can all go home.  Passengers are chatting about who was at fault and personally I’m blaming both the shrew and the drunk fucks for the incident.  Look, I’m against violence against women but if this bitch would have kept her mouth shut and not continued to provoke these drunk asses it would not have escalated so far.

Do you remember the bus driver who knocked out a female passenger in Cleveland after she spit and hit him or the McDonald’s employee who beat the shit out of the two custys who went after him over the counter?  Basically, it’s the same thing in my eyes.  I don’t feel sympathy for the shrew.  The bitch made me get home late!  Hopefully, she’ll learn her lesson and keep her mouth shut instead of starting a brawl!

--Queer Geek

 

Queer Geek's Big Fancy Tale of Coworker Appreciation

Okay, so I’m here to write about a customer appreciation situation that a consumer has done to show their gratitude for something a retail slave has done to assist them. 

Sadly, I don’t have any. 

Perhaps with the rare exception of a customer going to up to my manager and verbally complimenting me, I have never received any feedback in my retail career where a consumer went above and beyond to acknowledge my customer service skills.  Oh and all those thank you letters I got when I was a Big Fancy slave doesn’t count since many of them feel a bit forced.  Face it when you work for the Big Fancy, outstanding custy service is expected and you don’t want to know the many instances I’ve seen of fellow asshat coworkers telling custys to write a positive letter about them so they can rack up points for Employee of the Month. *cough cough* BULLSHIT!

However, I will reveal to you all what I did to make a retail slave’s day.  As I noted before, I’m a refugee from Big Fancy and everything you read in Freeman Hall’s books about the company are ABSOLUTELY one hundred percent true!  Big Fancy has a habit of building up their slaves, working them to death, and spitting them out if they don’t produce their ridiculously high quotas.  I have seen the revolving door of employees come in and out of my rinky dink store without so much as a thank you for the pleasure of working for the Big Fancy.  Now get the fuck out!

Now when I was working for them, I had the misfortune of being their corporate lackey by manning their complaints counter.  Basically, my job was to kiss a custy’s ass and make sure they left happy and massage their overinflated egos to the point they get their happy ending!  One night, a sweet little old lady came in to my counter crying and all upset clutching her Basic Fancy shopping bag that contained a blouse that had not been touched.  Everything was on it including the tag, the return label, and the poor woman had a receipt.  Immediately, I’m thinking.  She wants to return.

No biggie.  I start the transaction when she suddenly she shakes her head and tells me not to proceed.  Then in Spanish she tries to explain to me the situation.  Since I’m not a native speaker, I picked up a few key words on her explanation: something about shopping at our other bigger Fancy and needing a gift.  Since we had a failure to communicate, I grab the phone and try to contact a few departments with Spanish speaking employees to help me translate.  Then the frustrated shit storm hit me like a ton of bricks.  All of them REFUSED to assist me because they didn’t want to miss out on sales in their department from their sharky coworkers!  Well fuck me that you actually care about getting a potential sale!

After getting nowhere andseeing this poor woman more visibly upset, I finally got Pilar from ladies clothing to help me.  Pilar is a white haired, Hispanic woman with the sweetest disposition who raced her little self upstairs to my complaints counter to help me translate for this custy.  Taking a few minutes to converse in Spanish, Pilar gives me the 411.

“Basically, this customer went to our Big Fancy store in Ritzy Area and they refused to take it back,” Pilar explained.  “She said that the salesperson who sold to it to her was so rude to her that she wouldn’t wait on her.  On top of that, she wants to exchange it for something else because it’s a birthday gift for her sister.”

“It’s legit,” I reply to Pilar.  “The tickets are on there, it has a return label, and it’s never been worn.  Plus, it’s only been week according to the receipt.  I don’t understand why they won’t take it back.”

“Because they’re not nice people at the Ritzy Area,” informed Pilar.  “They made her cry.  It’s only $40.  They should have taken care of it there.”

“Can you help her?” I asked Pilar.

“Of course,” smiled the older woman.

Leading the Spanish speaking customer by the hand, she takes the upset consumer into ladies and returns the item.  Pilar then finds another dress and even sells more merchandise to the customer landing a total of $300 in sales.  If the person at Ritzy Area Fancy knew how to sell, she could have turned it around.  The upset customer left our store with her purchases happy as a clam and Pilar with some extra sales figures in her daily pocket.

Yet, I did not want to stop there.  Since Pilar worked so hard on this woman and without any appreciation, I went out of my way to do something nice for her.  Purchasing a Big Fancy gift card for $20, I went to her department during my break and handed the older woman my gift.  Pilar’s eyes widened with surprise to the point she began shaking her head.

“Queer Geek,” she clucked.  “You shouldn’t do that.”

I force the gift card into her hesitant fingers.  “Oh hush.  Just take it.  You earned it.  You helped with a difficult situation because no one in this greedy company wanted to take time to aid their fellow man.  Plus Big Fancy can care less about us so at least I wanted to show you that your assistance is greatly appreciated.  Now don’t be humble.  Accept it.”

She gave me a hug and I left her department with this weird feeling inside my stomach.  Was it generosity?  My humanitarianism?  My overwhelming need to be a good Samaritan?  My ability to sympathize as a retail slave?  Damn.  It means I’m developing a conscience.  Whatever the case I made this Pilar’s day which gave me this warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

Sadly, Pilar didn’t last another year.  Big Fancy spit her out because her sales quotas placed her at the bottom of the department totem pole.  Pilar, like many of us, became another victim of the corporate serial killer.  It shows that even the most decent of human beings can fall prey to the big business bullshit!

--Queer Geek

 

 

Halloween Night Retail Hell: Hellspawn Trick or Treaters Get Told By Queer Geek

Queer Geek Gets a Retail Balls Award for facing off with a mob of demon hellspawn on Halloween night:

Okay RHU, I’ve been labeled many things: asshole, jerk, dumbass, prick. 

Well you can add another name to that list:

CANDY NAZI! 

Allow me to explain.

Ahhh Halloween! The night for kiddies to rot their teeth and gain horrible stomach aches from all the sugary goodness they consumed. 

Well the city decides to host a Halloween Event for the locals and get all the businesses involved which was a cool idea for having something fun and safe for the children.  In turn, it helps generate extra business and everyone wins right?  WRONG!

It was holiday hell for any slave involved.  Sadly, the supposed extra business boost did not bolster increased sales because locals were not in the mood to shop but to get their hyperactive hellspawn out of the house.  Add sugar in the mix and you got a recipe for disaster.

Anyway, I was working Halloween night and since this was my first time handling the event I thought I would be handing some candy to a few kids throughout the night.  In addition, I was expected to sell merchandise, assist customers, and manage the store.

Well, the moment the trick or treating started, ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE!  It wasn’t a few kids in costumes. 

IT WAS A MOB OF HELLSPAWN DEMONS!

I mean the store was packed!  We had lines out the door full of kids wanting some sweets!  Many of which were blocking our register that we couldn’t ring up paying custys or help them when they asked questions or needed for us to look for stuff.  Adding to the fiasco was the fact that we were understaffed for the event which made it difficult for us to be minding the store, watching for shoplifters, and trying to maintain order.  It was like Hurricane Sandy had hit us!

To matter worse were the ungrateful little bastards acting like shits when were gave them some candy.  By this time, I turned into the CANDY NAZI and began rationing the amount of sweets for each little spawn. 

One in particular really pissed me off.

Me: *hands a few pieces* Here ya go.

Hellspawn: That’s it?  Can I get some more?

Me: Sorry, we got a long line going.  We gotta be fair to the other kids.

Hellspawn: But I like that candy.  Can I have some more please?

Me: *being strict* I’m sorry but you already got some.  Let the others have a chance.

Hellspawn: But you got lots.  I want some more.  I want some more.

Me: *pissed off by this point* Listen kid!  Candy is a privilege not a right.  NOW MOVE!

Hellspawn pouts and finally leaves but then I realize have a few more hours of this shit to deal with. 

During the next three hours, I had entitled parents cutting the line to get some candy for their hellspawn, a few brats bravely reaching in and try to grab the entire chunk out of the bowl, some kiddies returning to our place because all the other businesses had run out of candy, and a few bastards complaining that we were giving out the cheap crap.   

By the last hour of the event, I was over it!  The store was a wreck, real paying custys who could not be serviced left, and my coworkers and I frazzled.  With a bag and half of candy (which was of course the good stuff) left over, I put up the sign on the door that stated: SORRY OUT OF CANDY!  Sure enough the hellspawn took the hint leaving my coworkers some extra good sweets for the next day.  

THE CANDY NAZI HAS GOTTEN HIS REVENGE!  MUHAHAHAHA!

Ugggh RHU!  Halloween used to be my favorite holiday.  Now it’s like Black Friday and Christmas in retail. HELL ON EARTH!

And how was your Halloween?

--Queer Geek

 

ID Hell: Custy Claims He Was Singled Out Because He's a Republican

Well RHU, it turns out that the upcoming presidential election seems to flood in every aspect of the retail market and it SUCKS! 

Believe me the last thing a poor slave needs is to be discussing politics in the work place especially when you’re dealing with troublesome custys and all the corporate crap that comes with territory. 

Anyway, here’s how it went down.

I’m restocking the shelves when my supervisor calls me up to help ring up a line of custys.  As I’m assisting peeps, an old curmudgeon comes up with his stuff and the following occurs.

Supervisor:  How are you doing? *rings up*  That’s $7.00.

Curmudgeon: Fine.  *pays with credit card*

Supervisor: Thank you and can I please verify with your I.D.?

Curmudgeon: WHY DO YOU NEED MY I.D.?

Supervisor: We have a lot of identity theft in California.  We verify I.D. with all credit card purchases.

Curmudgeon: THIS IS RIDICICULOUS!  I SPENT THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS ELSEWHERE AND NO ONE HAS CARDED ME!  THIS IS DISCRIMINATION!

Supervisor: I’m sorry sir but we have to be consistent with everyone and it’s for you own protection.  Anyone can steal your credit card and use it.

Curmudgeon: THIS IS DISCRIMINATION!  YOU’RE PROFILING ME!  EVEN WORSE YOU’RE A DEMOCRAT!

Supervisor: I’m sorry sir but it’s for your own protection.  *charges his card*

Curmudgeon: YOU’RE PROFLIING ME BECAUSE I’M A REPUBLICAN!  THIS IS DISCRIMINATION!

The old guy grabs his stuff in a huff and leaves.

Okay in what world does political affiliation equate profiling?  I mean, seriously? Also, for the record there is rampant identity theft in California.  My parents and I have been victims but luckily our credit card companies quickly resolved the issue and prevented it from going any further.  However, I’ve had friends whom had their identities stolen and their credit ruined by NATS who have run up their credit and bought in a house in their name.

Now, potential NATS, here is the sad truth about credit card transactions.  If you don’t sign the slip or choose to steal the credit card signature portion (yes, it does happen), you can dispute the charge with your credit card company which becomes a problem for the store to collect the money.  The signature is a written contract between the retailer and the custy to authorize the charge on the credit card.  Without a signature, it makes it difficult for the store to prove that the custy agrees to pay the retailer for their purchases.   I’ve seen this time and time again when I worked at the Big Fancy so I’m a big supporter of asking for I.D. from every custy including myself.

What is weird about this situation is that the curmudgeon got pissed that we carded him even for a small purchase.  It’s funny we get compliments from other custys who are grateful we card them especially when they’re traveling.  If this idiot wants his credit stolen, he better stamp it on his forehead because he doesn’t believe in carding.  Come to think it, I need a new laptop.  Maybe he wouldn’t mind me pickpocketing his wallet and using his name to purchase me a new computer at Breast Buy!  Then again I’m apparently a Democrat and I’m going to discriminate against him first.

--Queer Geek

 

 

Gift Store Hell: Abused By Hellspawn

Oh Lord RHU! 

There’s a reason why I choose not to have kids!  When we discuss Hellspawns, there are just cause why I support pro-choice decisions.  Some little bastards deserve to be aborted so I’m all for drowning these kittens in the bathtub.  Here’s how it went down.

Now many of you know I work in a tourist gift store in the city which requires us to stay open late for all the homeless, club patrons, and any wacko off the street to hound us.  Anyway, we carry casual designer clothes that are popular with skaters and surfers that frequently shoplifters try to steal so we have to keep a close eye on the merchandise.  So it is ten o’clock at night and we have a huge group of customers shopping in our store when these group of middle school kids with backpacks come in.

Immediately, red flags rise for several reasons. 

One it is school night and a bunch of middle school age kids are way past their curfew to be hanging out in the downtown area.  Two, the little bastards decide to head in as a group toward the designer clothes.  Lastly, the store is busy leaving the perfect time for anyone to boost whatever they want from the establishment.

Right way, my coworkers and I watch them like a hawk and do the usual May I help you?  spiel.  The kids sensing us following them get pissed and start tearing up the store trying on clothes and making a huge mess.  Finally a group corners me and one of the little shits asks me the following question.

Hellspawn: Excuse me mam?

Me: I’m sorry.

Hellspawn: Excuse me mam?  Do you work here?

(Read the nametag dumbass!)

Me: Yeah, how can I help you?  And the right address you need to use is sir.

Hellspawn: *gets dramatic* Oh I’m soooorry, sir.  I thought you were a woman especially when you look like a transvestite.

His cohorts snicker and I shake my head at their idiocy.  They finally decide to leave.

Okay, here’s my rant.  The little fucks were trying to be funny by calling me a transvestite!  Well here’s what I should’ve told that little Hellspawn.  Ahem.

Take your Justin Bieber wannabe, emo haircut and your dumb fuck comments and shove them where the sun don’t shine you little, high school dropout, future crystal meth making, minimum wage burger flipping, welfare food stamp cheating, dead beat dad career making fucking loser!  See yourself in ten years when another little dumbass decides to bitch call you out at your dead end job and decides to annoy the living shit of out you!  Muahahaha!

Thank you…and scene!

--Queer Geek

 

 

 

A Funny Thing Happend On The Way To The Buffet

Hey yo RHU! 

Thought I share a funny story this week about my three year old nephew with you guys.  Sorry I forgot to take pictures but you can file this under crazy things that kids do.  Anyway, my family went out to one of those casino style buffets where you pay really good money for amazing food.  My sister and her family accompanied us to the venue and we ate until we busted a gut or fell into a food coma.

My nephew is three and will be turning four at the end of this year.  His parents and I limit the amount of sugar he’s allowed to have because quite frankly it’s not good for him.  Special outings like this one he’s aloud to have a little ice cream or a cookie now and again.  The problem was that little tyke is a crafty little man and started sneaking in a little more sweets than expected from the dessert line.  Yup, our fault for not watching him like a hawk 24/7.  Let’s just say the little man was on a HUGE sugar high.

How bad was it?  Well, let me paint the picture for you.  My sis and I were hitting the line for crepes when suddenly out of the blue my three year old nephew tugs on my sister’s shirt and says the following.

“Mommy look!  Gangnam Style!”

He then proceeds to dance to the K-Pop song like there’s no tomorrow.  Okay for those unfamiliar with Korean pop, the Gangnam Style song is this kitschy club song by Korean artist PSY in the same level as the Macarena.  Basically, you dance around like you’re riding a horse and throw in a lasso move with your arm.

Now imagine a three year old high on sugar performing it in front of shocked buffet patrons.  This might be cute for maybe a few minutes but it tends to lose its funniness.   It got even worse when he continued to dp it for nearly half an hour between intervals.

“Look uncle!  Gangnam Style!”

What’s a doting uncle to do with such a sugar high kid? 

Simple. 

DENY.  DENY.  DENY.

“Um?” I say as customers at the buffet line look at me funny.  “I don’t know this kid.  Did anyone lose an orphan a minute ago?”

“Look RHU!  Gangnam Style!”

  

--Queer Geek