Wolfycat received a Retail Balls Award February 2011, for choosing her sanity, health and well being over an unbearable working environment at a Ross:

Hello, my RHU pretties!

It has finally happened. After all the shit, hell, and abuse that I've gone through working at Smosh, I'm finally free.

Fabio was no longer coming to work at my store as often, which left Barbs with the reins. I swear she's freaking useless. I get put on fitting rooms as the sole attendant, and every time she tries to page me to go cashier. Then she gets pissed off when I page her telling her that I'm doing fitting rooms. Sorry, queen bee, but what do you expect me to do? If I'm not there, custys are free to frolic and be NATs and have sex all in the stalls or something. And I'm actually serious about that last one. This one couple kept trying to sneak past me to do a rendezvous in the men's fitting rooms. Yeah, the smell of restrooms and industrial cleaning supplies totally get me feeling randy.

The last straw came when one day, I was put on as backup cashier. About halfway through my shift, I notice her standing at the end of my row behind me. I asked her what was up, but she said to just ignore her. Hard thing to do when you're working and you feel a glare stinging you in the back of the head. After the wave of customers finished, I cleaned my area and went to go size the juniors section. Barbs stopped me on the way.

Barbs: You've been turning away returns all day.

Me: Yeah...I'm not on the returns desk. I'm just backup.

Barbs: But that doesn't give a reason why you haven't been taking returns.

Me:...The sign above those registers say Purchases Only. The returns function is disabled in those computers. That's why I haven't been doing returns.

Barbs: *huff* You think you know everything.

Me: Uh, no. That's just general knowledge. *walks away*

Then, later on, we were completely swamped up front like a mother. All registers except one were being manned. Even the girls who didn't speak English were trying to struggle on registers. Even with all the effort, all the lines were probably ten feet long. During all this, Barbs is just sitting on her ass in the back office, yelling at us on the intercom. Not the phone. The intercom. Where every single custy can hear. This eggs on some rude custys to start shouting insults at the cashiers.

By this time, every cashier on register is conspiring revenge. My supervisor grabs the phone and asks Barbs to come help on the last register. She declines.

Then a crusty decides that I'm trying to rip her off. She had come to the front with a dress that had no price tag. It was a size 22, typically a "women's world" item, so I grab the price book and scan it in for a women's world dress. It was like $19.99 or $29.99. She starts bitching that it's an outrageous price (Really? It was in awesome condition and something you would find at the mall for more than $50). But as it was a Tuesday, I could offer her a Crusty Tuesday 10% off discount to stop her whining. That wasn't good enough. She wanted a manager. I page Barbs up and NO ANSWER. I start paging like a maniac. Old lady snaps.

"This service is horrible! I waited in line for an hour! Blah,blah,blah, where-the-hell-is-your-manager-you-probably-didn't-call-because-you-know-you're-in-trouble, blah, blah, blah!!"

My supervisor is up to her elbows in a huge transaction nearing $1000, so she couldn't help. The lines are starting to dwindle due to people getting fed up on waiting, so naturally, it's like they punt their items across the length of the store before bailing. Then a rude-ass custy comes up behind me and jabs me in the shoulder. I throw her hand off of me and demand her to step away. She backs off of me, but yells that she's never shopping here again because we all suck. I yell good riddance to her.

Old lady says to me "You shouldn't speak to her like that! Blah, blah, blah, oldladytalk."

Then I hear "What the hell have you done?" behind me. Barbs suddenly decides to show her face. I snap.

Me: What the hell have I done? Where the hell were you when I paged you a couple hundred times?

Barbs: *lame excuse* blahblahblah, but why hasn't your line been moving?

Me: Because this lady *gestures to crusty* wanted your assistance, but you were not responding at all! She's been waiting--we've ALL been waiting for about 20 minutes for your ass to show up!

Supervisor: And why the hell did you even refuse to help us on register when you KNOW we're completely swamped?

Barbs: I didn't REFUSE, I just needed to do other stuff.

Supervisor: That's complete BS, Barbs!

That's when most of the lines started getting shorter as more people left. Even the crusty. Supervisor and Barbs are still verbally sparring, when the next custy in my line comes up glaring at me in a way that I feel like he's possessed by a demon or something. He has a pack of glassware that he picks up from his cart and slams it on the counter. Shattering ensues and he starts cussing me out like a psycho.

That's when I said fuck it. No more dealing with an incompetent manager not worth shit, no more insulting custies, no more displeased whiny crusties, and no more freaky demonic possesions that need Jesus. I QUIT!

--Wolfycat

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