We're the ones your mother warned your about...No, seriously. We are.

So yes. I have a job. I am no longer whoring for Hollywood.

However, as anyone that's ever gone to get an apartment knows, you need cash - and a goodly amount of it. In that vein, I took a seasonal position.

In retail.

Powers help me - I'm working in retail. Again.

I have what some might call an....eccentric work history. Eccentric in that, to a point, if you'll pay me, I'm willing to give it a go. I've done banquet serving, been a Reliability Technician, done tech support - I'm a certified kickboxing instructor that also has a forktruck license. But retail?

I. Hate. Retail.

I spent 2 1/2 years in & the summer after high school working for KMart. Oh no - there is no shame in that, not at all. I survived the first Elmo Christmas, seen three Laconia, NH Bike Weekends, & I have actually run BlueLight Specials, people. In fact, one day all I did was eight hours' worth of BlueLight Specials where I just went from dept. to dept. & then started all over again. Women followed Kerry & I from one spot to another, asking where we were going next so that they could get there ahead of everyone else & have the pick of the lot! Have you ever been stalked by soccer moms? It's very scary. On that day, I stopped at the video store & picked up a movie that I'd been told I had to see.

This movie was called Clerks. If you're laughing, it's 'cause you've seen it. If you're not laughing, you don't know what I'm talking about, & it's time for you to go educate yourself. Because the funniest thing about that movie isn't this scene, or that scene - it's the fact that it's really like that. Granted, we never had hockey games on top of the store, but we did put someone on the shelving where all the paper towels were, wall them in with rolls of Bounty, then wait for other employees to walk by & bombard them with paper goods as the display they were passing exploded out to attack them. *grin*
good times, good times.

So when I re-entered the world of retail, I knew what I was getting into. Somewhat. For you see, I've fallen, my friends. Into the Snap. The Baby Snap. And maybe it's just that in my ripe age of twenty-three, the memories of age 16 - 18 have faded to a rosy haze that seems to me a gentler time....a more serene place.

Or maybe the shoppers are on crack.

Oh. Mah. La-ward. So bad. So very, very bad. I work part time at a store called...well, in the interest of Google searches and me keeping my job, we'll say I work at a store called Snap. Yes, that is what we shall call it. Let me give you an idea here. When we close, the employees don't just go home. We stay to clean the place up. And it's not unusual for that to take two hours. Or even three. One night, I was left alone in the dept. for an hour and a half that I spent just ringing on the register, and by the time everyone was gone, and I'd left....it literally looked like a tornado had come through. To the point where the mannequins were knocked over and, in some cases, missing clothes! I mean, it's bad enough that you guys are knocking over pretend little kids, but do you have to strip them too? Sheesh. Big bunch of perverts, I tell ya.

Therefore, in the interest of everyone* surviving their next shopping experience, I've compiled a small guide making sure that we, the staff, are not forced to kill you, the customer. Ready? Good.
* (everyone of course, being you - 'cause when it comes down to it, I've been in the store longer than you and am far more disgruntled, so I'm pretty much going to win)

Here Beginneth the Lesson