10/27/10
10/26/10
Disaster Zone
Everyday that I walk into work, I am amazed that the place functions as well as it does. If only the average joe knew how much of a disaster zone the place is. Between the constant miscommunication, absence of training, lack of organization, the place reminds me of a town without infrastructure, where the inhabitants exist in a free-for-all state of mind. Like I previously said, "the fake it til you make it" environment.
Yesterday, I arrived at work expecting another day of straightening shoes. And that's what I did for a while. Until the TRUCK arrived. For those of you without retail experience, stores are constantly receiving new merchandise. And when this new merchandise arrives workers must take it out of the boxes and sort it. I was on TRUCK duty yesterday. Having only previously helped unload a truck once before, my experience was slim; however, this did not deter my fellow workers from becoming angry with me (and another new worker) when I failed to follow rules that had never been explained to me. Typical Marshalls.
"Department 72 boxes go over here," Angry Truck Worker shouted.
"Okay," I said feebly. Hearing her say "72" scared the shit out of me; did that mean there were 71 other departments that had special places for boxes? But I couldn't ask any questions as more boxes were rolling past on the conveyer belt and I really felt like a factory worker. So depressing.
A few minutes pass; I am putting the perfume where the perfume goes, socks where socks go, etc. The problem is that I'm only allowed to inspect items within boxes that had been opened prior to rolling up the conveyer belt. Why? I don't know. A co-worker who can barely speak English informs me that I am not to open any unopened boxes. Okay, I wont. But wait, what about department 72? I guess I can move those boxes, right? As long as I don't open them, correct? I try to ask the non-english speaker this question, but she just smiles and nods her head. Ugh. No help. I can't turn to Angry Truck Worker because she's down at the other end of the conveyer belt. I continue on my way. Doing what I'm supposed to be doing. Or at least faking it.
"Department 53 goes over here!" Angry Truck Worker yells from the end of the conveyer belt.
"Okay," I say. Pause. I think to myself: this angry co-worker is treating me as if this knowledge is supposed to be innate, as if a newborn knows that department 53 gets set next to the box of Women's purses. I guess I was born without that knowledge. What's the deal Mom and Dad?
"Is there like a list or something of all the department numbers? Because I don't have them memorized. I'm still learning. I don't really know what I'm doing," I proclaim.
"They didn't give you a list of the departments?" Angry Truck Worker asks. I shake my head. "Okay, I'll go get you the list." She fetches me a piece of paper that lists the departments; I recognize it as it came with the rest of worker materials that I was given on the first day of work. Pretty sure I threw all that shit away. Oops. Oh well. More time goes by and Angry Truck Worker is under the impression that because she gave me the list that I will somehow learn the entire catalogue of departments through osmosis. Sadly, I don't have that capability. Just as she was about to yell the misplacement of another department, I got radioed that it's time for me to cover the Fitting Room. Saved by the bell.
10/23/10
Customers...
So last night I worked from 3 til close and it being a friday night, needless to say, the store was busy. And consequently, a mess. I was in my usual department (shoes, if you already forgot) and I was doing my usual thang: faking it aka. looking like I'm busy. About an hour before closing time, I see a woman at the other end of the shoe department going to town with about 50 pairs of socks. Still being new, I didn't know if there was a policy about trying on socks. Personally, I think it's pretty gross to try on socks and then not buy them as someone else will essentially be buying vitiated socks. I think it's bad enough that people try on shoes with reckless abandon, but they're at least supposed to wear those little sock things; of course none of them do. Anyway, I ask a coworker if customers are allowed to try on socks. She immediately contacts our manager via the walkie talkies we all wear (something I could easily have done, but I wanted to ask someone before alerting the whole staff about this customer's indiscretion) and the manager says that as long as the customer is not ripping up the packages, it's fine. Good to know, Marshalls. Another coworker of mine, who happened to be cleaning up an area right next to sock lady, alerts the woman about the package rule and everything seems to be fine. No harm, no foul.
About 20 minutes later, I am organizing the boot section that sits amongst the coats. Sock lady is there and suddenly she turns to me and says that she needs my opinion about the coat that she has discovered. Giving my opinion and talking to customers about products/fashion is my favorite part of the job. I know that may come as a shock as I have a certain anxiety when it comes to approaching workers when I am the customer, but when I'm the worker, it's fine. Anyway, she is wearing a DKNY coat that goes just below the knee and it has a slight A-Line cut to it. She is worried that the coat may be a little unflattering but I reassured her that it's not. And it's not unflattering; in fact it looks really good. I really like the coat; it looks warm and it has a faux fur lined hood. I tell her that it's fashionable and functional. She smiles at this and explains that she always wears trench coats in the winter and freezes because of it. I told her that I have done the same thing; freshman year in college all I wore was a trench from H&M that was super cute but super thin. The conversation goes on a little bit longer and it starts getting to the point where I think she might begin telling me her life story (which I would have absolutely loved to hear); she tells me she worked for DKNY when she lived in California and the first thought that comes to my head is, What are you doing here? But I don't ask. Eventually she thanks me and heads to the back of the store to put the coat on layaway.
I find the whole interaction with sock lady compelling because this woman obviously had a story--as we all do-- but hers seemed like it would be really interesting. She was a little odd, with the hint of a southern twang in her accent. She was young-- probably in her thirties-- attractive, wore bright red lipstick and her reddish hair reminded me of one of my college professors.
10/20/10
Time to get IT
So now that I'm done with GRE, I think I should get crackalackin on my blog. It's time for work stories. Have you ever read the David Sedaris short story/essay of when he worked as an elf at a department store? I wanna write like that. I know my stories will not be as funny as his, but I'm going to give it a shot.
So if you don't know, I work at Marshalls. In the shoe department. I have been there for almost two weeks now and, as a coworker put it, the place is a fake it til you make it kind of environment. The problem with that statement is that I don't really know what happens when you MAKE it. But anyway, I have been faking it so much that I don't know how much longer I can fake it. When I say fake it, I mean that I really don't get any direction or explanation as to what I'm supposed to do. So I just act like I'm busy. Basically, my job consists of hanging around the shoe department and straightening shoes. It's pretty boring. But I get a sweet little rolly chair that I can scoot around on. I know that there are other responsibilities, but nobody has really shown me what those consist of, so I'll keep on faking it. Just scooting around acting like I'm doing a lot and helping customers.
All for now. More to come.
10/11/10
outfit i put together
not trying to be vain, just proud of the ensemble. shirt and skirt: forever 21. shoes: h&m.
lake maxinkuckee
"It's a great day at the Culver Coffee Company" was the slogan of the weekend. A direct quote from a barista who greeted us with an annoying surplus of alacrity first thing in the morning. The phrase was repeated the rest of the day until the next morning when we woke up and wondered, "Is TODAY a great day at the Culver Coffee Company?" Well, there was only one way to find out: return. How could we be so silly to think that it wouldn't be a great day at C cubed? Of course it was a great day; so great in fact that the elements present on the first great day had only been slightly altered for the next great day. It was like a weird application of a jazz musician's notion of "rep and rev" to everyday life.
Day One: Stealth photo taking. This guy was having SUCH a great day that he felt the need to talk on the phone sans shirt. After his phone call was finished he returned to working on his Mac. Apparently, the Culver Coffee Company does not adhere to the "no shirt, no service" policy. What a great day! Well, for that guy at least. I did not find it so GREAT to see him shirtless. Not that he had a bad physique, but come on, we're not on a beach GUY. This is a coffee shop. But I suppose "GREAT" is a subjective term.
Water. Pretty great.
The cottage that I was so grateful to be invited to visit.
Day Two: Stealth photo taking. See what I mean by "rep and rev?" He's on the mac; however, he's got a shirt on. I suppose this GREAT day was a little cooler than the previous GREAT day.
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