I toddled into work yesterday, in a cloud of festive cheer. The 'Tiny Hands' have Christmas Fever, there are a few squabbles over the Chocolate advent calendar, but on the whole listening to 'she child' and 'the boy' sing carols when they should be cleaning their teeth really does give me that warm glow. Well, in a matter of about five minutes, there was more Grinch than Elf in the Hall of Plenty, I can tell you.
Firstly, and I really don't know where people get off doing this, somebody put a half eaten sandwich and a very old, fly ridden, cup of coffee from some over priced coffee boutique, in my locker.
1) The lock on my locker should be enough to signify MINE , not anyone's for the taking.
2) Are the bins, that are conveniently situated five feet away from the lockers, too far to reach? Because that coffee had been sat for days. Given that I was in the day before and had used my locker, I can only assume some part time tit, had left it, come back to their locker days later and thought,
'Oh dear, I left my coffee and eeeew, look, there are flies on it. I know, I will put it somebody else's locker rather than shift my fat stupid arse and put it in the bin over there !!!!!'
Yeah you did!!
Revolted, I put the offending articles in the walkway so everyone could see them, step over them or throw them away at their leisure.
After, Manky Coffee- Dirty Sandwich Gate, I ascended to the shop floor where the till decided to freak out. After a brief tussle with our unhelpful communications department, I called Poland to see what they could do. Yes, Poland! Apparently when your till doesn't work you call Poland, where abouts and who, I do not know but they don't answer the phones.Nobodyfrom any department can give you a straight answer as to what to do.
I can only assume this is some bizarre way to expand the work skills of people who already have to remember over 100 product prices, every ingredient in every product, open store cards, fetch their own stock from basements the army would have trouble assaulting, provide great service, stand up all day, gift wrap incredibly small items, do paper work, deal with customer complaints, make over customers , advise on skincare, listen to whingey weirdo's, clean the ridiculously impractical sharp, shinny, crevice ridden counters and smile. So, using my very small knowledge of technical things I gave it a bloody good banging. Funny thing is, it worked straight after.
Just to top off the frustration, some daft bird waved an empty lip gloss container in my face and demanded,
'What's this?'
She had the cheek to roll her eyes when I told her, it was just that, an empty lip gloss. And then said,
'Yeah, I know that, what colour is it?'
'I don't know, it's empty.'
Wave, wave, thrust, some where about my nose and she said,
'Well, what number is it?'
'I DON'T KNOW YOU ARE WAVING IT ABOUT AND HOLDING THE END WITH THE NUMBER ONNNNNNN!!!!!!'
'Oh.'
Yeah , OH!
Problem soon solved, she was followed by an army of nut jobs; people that wanted foundations but wouldn't try them on their cheeks. Men who faffed about constantly checking, even as we were wrapping their stuff, that we had really given them what they asked for. Silly sample hunters and several people with too much to say and not buying. Favourite amongst them, was the stressed out customer who dashed around demanding lots of attention, asking the price and poking everything, telling us Xmas was a rip off and our prices were too high, only to come back and sheepishly buy the things she had looked at so disdainfully hours earlier.
I hate you all , bollocks to Xmas!
