fuckyeahretailrobin:

[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right.

Top Text: “Politely ask, “How many items, sir?””

Bottom Text: “Customer grunts: “LOADS”.”]

I work on the fitting room in the store that gives you Big Labels for Small Prices, in the UK. 

The amount of times I get customers that laugh in my face when I ask, as cheerfully and politely as I can, how many items they have so that I can give them the appropriately marked number tag. This is a very low-tech theft deterent- the idea being that you come out with the same number of items as you took in. It doesn’t really always work but it’s just what every fitting room in every other store does, right?

Our fitting rooms have no item limits on how many you can take in. We only have numbered tags up to 6, and then a black 0 tag for anything 7+.

The times I get the quote in the meme are from men or women who have picked up around 10-18 items in their basket or even across their arms, throughout the store, sometimes from multiple departments. 

It is then my job to literally rifle through their items, count their stuff, sort it between what they are allowed to take in (anything you can wear- clothes, shoes, hats, belts, sometimes even bags or accessories) and what they can’t, (perfumes, sunglasses, small items easily slipped into bags…) 

It doesn’t get funnier the more you laugh in my face and go ‘Oh I don’t know, half the shop probably!’ and then stare at me while I have to count every single item, while being dyslexic and easily distracted thus losing my place, by the 7 or 8 other jobs I have to do, but no, here I am counting every single item, tangled up in its hangers, still in your arms, because you couldn’t be bothered to count your items.

The kicker is that these people tend to only take one or two items after all that polava, or none at all, and the tangled, crumbled, de-hangered, inside out pile of crap, is dumped it into my arms, with nary a ‘thank you’ before they walk off. And some of them have the cheek to come back and do it AGAIN with the same cheesy smile like “IT’S ME AGAIN!”

And then my managers shout at me for being slow to call people to clear the rails when every attendant I ask for is then being also asked to do THEIR departments and their 7 or 8 other jobs as well. When would I get the TIME to even pick up the damn phone and page for one of you?!

And do you know what the kicker is. The kicker is that I only get four hour shifts, my contracted hours are 8 per week, and on this salary it is costing me my money from my savings to continue to live because I can’t afford my rent like this. But I have to work here because there isn’t anything else in town. I also have really bad feet, and despite the fact that I’ve worked here for a year and that other shops with fitting rooms have chairs, I’m not allowed one. Because it ‘looks bad’. 

And they had the NERVE to call me into the office to have a go at me when a customer COMPLAINED that I was CRYING at my post from being in so much bloody pain. Maybe the chair wouldn’t look so damn bad?! But no, nevermind because I never have the time to even sit down to BREATHE because management refuses to give the poor souls stuck on the fitting room during peak trade any help. 

Upshot: this month’s customer service survey proves that we’re the best department in the store for being neat, clean, organized and having friendly, helpful attendants. 67% satisfaction, compared to some pretty diabolical results for the rest of the store’s targets. Suck on that, management. 

TL;DR Me and the other fitting room attendants are the unsung heroes of this store and pretty much department stores in general. 

I will have more to submit here, mark my words. 

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