The Christmas cards arrived today. At the first glimpse of those ominous cardboard boxes, I turned into a crabby and irritable humbug. The poor DHL man. Though I'd have had a little more sympathy for him if he'd actually helped carry the boxes through to the stockroom, rather than dumping them by the back door and watching me and another spindly female member staff cart them up the stairs.
16 boxes of Christmas cards. 16! In August. Ye, we have to put them out right away. We were meant to have the sale cards out already, but I've been quietly ignoring them for the last couple of weeks in the hope that no one would notice. My area manager has been in twice and not said anything, so the plan seems to be working.
The giftware arrives on Wednesday. By a cunning and entirely unpremeditated (I kid ye not!) coincidence, I am going on holiday for a week, starting Wednesday.
Friday, 21 August 2009
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
Stalker alert!
A customer has attempted to 'friend' me on Facebook.
A month or so ago he came in and asked what my surname was so he could look me up on there. I politely declined, but it seems he has persisted with the plan anyway.
Needless to say I not only ignored the request but proceeded to remove all personal information (including my work details) from my profile and veto my appearance in searches even more stringently.
It's definitely time to leave.
A month or so ago he came in and asked what my surname was so he could look me up on there. I politely declined, but it seems he has persisted with the plan anyway.
Needless to say I not only ignored the request but proceeded to remove all personal information (including my work details) from my profile and veto my appearance in searches even more stringently.
It's definitely time to leave.
The not-so-great unwashed
I'm not a person particularly given to washing too frequently, but there are limits. We have numerous unwashed and generally stinking customers, some of whom are regulars, some of whom are shoplifters (sadly these are mostly drug addicts and alcoholics), and some of whom are disabled in which case they are exonerated from perdition due to it being no fault of their own. This kind of goes for old people too. There's one old man, a frequent browser and occasional purchaser, who smells like death. I don't mean that in a comparative sense, I mean it in a literal sense.
The crux of this post.
Due to the above, I expect to have to spray the shop periodically with perfume or air freshener (products normally abhorrent to myself), especially after a visit from one of the above. Yesterday I checked the fitting room for hangers after a suspicious-looking female tried on two pairs of trousers and a blouse (I couldn't tell if she'd come out with the same number of items as she'd gone in with). No hangers, but a powerful and inhuman smell pervaded the cubby. A quick squirt of 'clean linen', no problem.
About half an hour later, one of my volunteers comes into the office grimacing, gingerly holding a pair of urine-soaked jeans out at arms length. She said she'd smelt wee by the trouser rail and then found them on the floor. My suspicions about the woman were confirmed. The swap job is a common phenomenon, finding that some nice person has taken an item of ours and left their own minging trousers/tshirt/jumper in its place, but usually we are at least spared this much! At least I can recognise her next time and bar her. Often I'm not so lucky!
The crux of this post.
Due to the above, I expect to have to spray the shop periodically with perfume or air freshener (products normally abhorrent to myself), especially after a visit from one of the above. Yesterday I checked the fitting room for hangers after a suspicious-looking female tried on two pairs of trousers and a blouse (I couldn't tell if she'd come out with the same number of items as she'd gone in with). No hangers, but a powerful and inhuman smell pervaded the cubby. A quick squirt of 'clean linen', no problem.
About half an hour later, one of my volunteers comes into the office grimacing, gingerly holding a pair of urine-soaked jeans out at arms length. She said she'd smelt wee by the trouser rail and then found them on the floor. My suspicions about the woman were confirmed. The swap job is a common phenomenon, finding that some nice person has taken an item of ours and left their own minging trousers/tshirt/jumper in its place, but usually we are at least spared this much! At least I can recognise her next time and bar her. Often I'm not so lucky!
Thursday, 13 August 2009
They're in my brain...
Last night I was dreaming about shoplifters. I just can't get away from them! And I didn't remember the dream until I got to work and started rotating the dresses - the armful of clothing sparked a flashback. I'd found a huge pile of empty hangers in the fitting room and then I discovered one of our known shoplifters with stock shoved up his jumper - but not just a little bit of stock, he looked like the michelin man with all the stuff he'd got. And then he denied that he'd taken anything.
Bizarre. Well, it would be if such happenings didn't occur on an almost daily basis (thankfully on a smaller scale!).
Bizarre. Well, it would be if such happenings didn't occur on an almost daily basis (thankfully on a smaller scale!).
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
Grindstones, millstones, and so on
Whilst these days for the most part I do a lot of whinging about how I have to get out of this goddamn shop, how endless it seems, etc, etc - yesterday I had a small revelation. Well, not a reveltion per se, because it's something I've known/felt for a long time, but lack of perspective seemed to have buried it somewhere.
How do people spend their whole lives mindlessly and soullessly slogging their guts out? Excepting the lucky few, the majority of the 'developed' world work 9-5, 5 days a week, about 340 days a year for nearly 50 years. And mostly in jobs less interesting than mine. Caged like battery hens in offices and call centres, with people they don't really care about, doing things they don't really care about. When did this become normal, acceptable and, in fact, expected? And why, more to the point, whilst everyone complains about it and fantasises about, to quote Lester Burnham, a life that doesn't so closely resemble hell, anyone who actually puts these fantasies into action is labelled lazy, peculiar, having a crisis, or 'terribly alternative' (thanks mum). Even my job is perceived by many as terribly alternative, despite the regular hours, salary and near-corporate whoredom.
Remembering this (which I have been keen to avoid since the dim realisation of what lay before me in the misty realms of Adulthood and Responsibility) has made my current line of employment seem entirely more pleasant. For the time being, at any rate.
How do people spend their whole lives mindlessly and soullessly slogging their guts out? Excepting the lucky few, the majority of the 'developed' world work 9-5, 5 days a week, about 340 days a year for nearly 50 years. And mostly in jobs less interesting than mine. Caged like battery hens in offices and call centres, with people they don't really care about, doing things they don't really care about. When did this become normal, acceptable and, in fact, expected? And why, more to the point, whilst everyone complains about it and fantasises about, to quote Lester Burnham, a life that doesn't so closely resemble hell, anyone who actually puts these fantasies into action is labelled lazy, peculiar, having a crisis, or 'terribly alternative' (thanks mum). Even my job is perceived by many as terribly alternative, despite the regular hours, salary and near-corporate whoredom.
Remembering this (which I have been keen to avoid since the dim realisation of what lay before me in the misty realms of Adulthood and Responsibility) has made my current line of employment seem entirely more pleasant. For the time being, at any rate.
Monday, 10 August 2009
Monday morning mountains
To the generous person who left the vast pile of (extremely heavy) bags outside my shop some time before 9.05am this morning:
Thank you for improving my Monday morning experience. The best way to start your week is by scraping sodden and filthy items off the street... Not only could I barely open the door for the mountain in front of it, but the bags were a) so heavy I couldn't lift them, b) partly split and strewn across the pavement from the usual bunch of rummagers and c) FULL OF RUBBISH!!!
Childs potty, anyone? Mangy old car seat? Box of crappy plastic £1 shop hangers? Hacksaw? Thought not. Later on when I came to sort through the bags I discovered why they were so heavy - the clothes were sodden. And stinking. God knows where they'd been, but I can tell you, once you've smelt rotting textiles you'll never forget it. Almost akin to that sweet, fetid smell rotten chicken gives off.
I can only hope that the passers-by who see me almost daily performing this task (generally worst on a Monday though, due to our being shut on a Sunday) are inspired to not repeat the folly of the guilty party.
Thank you for improving my Monday morning experience. The best way to start your week is by scraping sodden and filthy items off the street... Not only could I barely open the door for the mountain in front of it, but the bags were a) so heavy I couldn't lift them, b) partly split and strewn across the pavement from the usual bunch of rummagers and c) FULL OF RUBBISH!!!
Childs potty, anyone? Mangy old car seat? Box of crappy plastic £1 shop hangers? Hacksaw? Thought not. Later on when I came to sort through the bags I discovered why they were so heavy - the clothes were sodden. And stinking. God knows where they'd been, but I can tell you, once you've smelt rotting textiles you'll never forget it. Almost akin to that sweet, fetid smell rotten chicken gives off.
I can only hope that the passers-by who see me almost daily performing this task (generally worst on a Monday though, due to our being shut on a Sunday) are inspired to not repeat the folly of the guilty party.
Tuesday, 16 June 2009
Mary Queen of Charity Shops?
I have just finished watching the final instalment of BBC2's series on charity shops. Mary Portas, whose last series sprucing up independent high street fashion retailers inspired me for my little charity shop, takes on a Save the Children shop in Orpington - one of their lowest performers at £900 a week. I take that in two days.
When I heard about this project I was really pleased, as I'd thought when watching the last series that she ought to take on charity shops. Finally the series aired, and there I was, perched eagerly on the edge of the sofa, notepad in hand, ready for the pearls of wisdom to start falling from her magisterial lips... But alas! It seemed as the first episode unravelled, that she had no idea what she was doing. It was hilarious in a way, watching my life on television - she was horrified, confused, frustrated and frequently totally stumped by problems I encounter every day. Disgusting donations, elderly volunteers unwilling to change the habits of 40 years, and the terrible attitude of customers and the public.
Fortunately, as the series went on, she got the idea - the shop was refitted, a manager was brought in, she came up with new campaigns to canvas for decent stock. At least she understood that the key was the stock! It took a while for the penny to drop with the volunteers though.
Now, a lot of people have complained that she expected too much of the staff; and too much for the stock. Treating volunteers like paid staff is contentious but frankly, I agree. Whilst I do try to be diplomatic with mine, they are still there to do a job, and if they aren't doing it properly what's the point?! It is selfish, a she pointed out in the last episode, to ignore what is asked of you for the benefit of the shop in order to just carry on your own sweet way because that's how you like it. And as far as the stock pricing goes - well, we could be here all day if I get on my soap box about that, needless to say so many people just want something for nothing and that's not fair on the charity either. Why is it that it's seen as somehow unacceptable for a charity to make money? No one quibbles about paying £15 in Gap for a t-shirt made by small children, which goes straight into the pockets of people who don't need it, to continue the exploitation of those who do.
Moving on to my next point. What has vexed me about this series, as I was discussing with my manager earlier today, is the way she has portrayed charity shops. She may be trying to lift their reputation but in doing so she has only shown the bottom of the barrel. The programme is basically tarring us all with the same brush (apologies for the cliches), and she trolls out some ideas, branded as innovative Mary originals, which have been going on in charity shops for years! Getting students to flog their hand-made designs in the shop and splitting the profits is not only happening in several large charity retailers, but is in fact the whole basis of one chain of shops in particular. Canvassing big businesses has also been tried, with varying levels of success.
She's making out that no one in their right mind would ever shop in a charity shop unless they've taken on board what she's got to say about them; and that the idea of getting a fresh young crowd in by promoting second-hand shopping in the fashion press is a totally new one. Charity shopping has been cool in many circles for some time. It was cool when I was at school and it's still cool now. A large portion of my customers are students buying up hideous old lady dresses (I don't know what it is about floral crimplene, but it's gold dust) in huge sizes to drape over their tiny frames and glam up with tacky gold belts and plastic earrings. Bandwagon, anyone?
I think the programme could at least have had a five-minute focus on a successful shop and demonstrated that it can be, and is, done! But I suppose that would have taken the gloss off her own miraculous achievement. Ok, it makes better television, I get it (one more reason why I don't watch tv) - at least it's put us in the public eye a little more. And if it means people will think twice before dumping a big pile of children's underwear and a broken food processor on my doorstep of a morning, I will be very pleased indeed!
When I heard about this project I was really pleased, as I'd thought when watching the last series that she ought to take on charity shops. Finally the series aired, and there I was, perched eagerly on the edge of the sofa, notepad in hand, ready for the pearls of wisdom to start falling from her magisterial lips... But alas! It seemed as the first episode unravelled, that she had no idea what she was doing. It was hilarious in a way, watching my life on television - she was horrified, confused, frustrated and frequently totally stumped by problems I encounter every day. Disgusting donations, elderly volunteers unwilling to change the habits of 40 years, and the terrible attitude of customers and the public.
Fortunately, as the series went on, she got the idea - the shop was refitted, a manager was brought in, she came up with new campaigns to canvas for decent stock. At least she understood that the key was the stock! It took a while for the penny to drop with the volunteers though.
Now, a lot of people have complained that she expected too much of the staff; and too much for the stock. Treating volunteers like paid staff is contentious but frankly, I agree. Whilst I do try to be diplomatic with mine, they are still there to do a job, and if they aren't doing it properly what's the point?! It is selfish, a she pointed out in the last episode, to ignore what is asked of you for the benefit of the shop in order to just carry on your own sweet way because that's how you like it. And as far as the stock pricing goes - well, we could be here all day if I get on my soap box about that, needless to say so many people just want something for nothing and that's not fair on the charity either. Why is it that it's seen as somehow unacceptable for a charity to make money? No one quibbles about paying £15 in Gap for a t-shirt made by small children, which goes straight into the pockets of people who don't need it, to continue the exploitation of those who do.
Moving on to my next point. What has vexed me about this series, as I was discussing with my manager earlier today, is the way she has portrayed charity shops. She may be trying to lift their reputation but in doing so she has only shown the bottom of the barrel. The programme is basically tarring us all with the same brush (apologies for the cliches), and she trolls out some ideas, branded as innovative Mary originals, which have been going on in charity shops for years! Getting students to flog their hand-made designs in the shop and splitting the profits is not only happening in several large charity retailers, but is in fact the whole basis of one chain of shops in particular. Canvassing big businesses has also been tried, with varying levels of success.
She's making out that no one in their right mind would ever shop in a charity shop unless they've taken on board what she's got to say about them; and that the idea of getting a fresh young crowd in by promoting second-hand shopping in the fashion press is a totally new one. Charity shopping has been cool in many circles for some time. It was cool when I was at school and it's still cool now. A large portion of my customers are students buying up hideous old lady dresses (I don't know what it is about floral crimplene, but it's gold dust) in huge sizes to drape over their tiny frames and glam up with tacky gold belts and plastic earrings. Bandwagon, anyone?
I think the programme could at least have had a five-minute focus on a successful shop and demonstrated that it can be, and is, done! But I suppose that would have taken the gloss off her own miraculous achievement. Ok, it makes better television, I get it (one more reason why I don't watch tv) - at least it's put us in the public eye a little more. And if it means people will think twice before dumping a big pile of children's underwear and a broken food processor on my doorstep of a morning, I will be very pleased indeed!
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