Tugging at the Tigers Tail!

Someone once told me, when you have a tiger by the tail, don't keep tugging. Put it down and back away slowly. There has been a situation brewing on our counter for sometime now,concerning one of our many 'friends', or as we know them, stalkers. Yes, we do actually have them. You wouldn't think so, as none of us are actually famous but we do.
 For instance, I have my nemesis the sample hunting, Helmet Head. Miss Pankhurst has the Artful Dodger, a well known local ne'r do well with a drippy nose and a tendency to spit as he speaks. 'She who must be Obeyed' has a number of 'fans' who stop by. Tanya/Stan we are not sure, but he/she wears mini skirts and spits as well. Grubby Hairdresser man, never buys aftershave, but uses heaps of ours. Serious Rasta, he knows more about our products than we do. He never feels he can just stop by for a chat as weirdly, 'time is money' so he always asks about the ingredients in everything. Strange Dumpy woman, this one sprays her elbows with perfume for about ten minutes and the Fruit Man who has problems with his feet.
Amongst this social whirl emerges, probably our scariest 'friend', The Cook. After initially seeming like a nice old lady, she started bombarding Miss Marple with requests, livid green celebration cakes and other confectionery, baked by her. Now, as an expert conspiracy theorist and a friend to the extended train of thought, Miss Marple was deeply suspicious of these treats. Whilst remaining gracious in the face of this cake based worship, she always remembered that even Snow White was caught out by an old lady bearing gifts. So when The Cook started demanding things like, a Taxi ordering service and help carrying her many purchases, she knew it would end in tears.
Attempting to disassociate herself from The Cook, she was caught out a few times. The Cook called the Hall of Plenty to find out when she was working. Insisted that Miss Marple bring lipsticks for her to view whilst she was on a different floor having her hair done and even demanded that she look about the store for various items of clothing The Cook needed.
So our little Tiger began to feel liberties were being taken with her tail. When The Cook called us recently for a little chat with Miss Marple, the look on her face said it all. Apparently The Cook had lost a bag of purchases, luckily they were insured on the credit card, but she needed someone to say they had seen her with the bag in our Hall of Plenty. Miss Marple declined, The Cook insisted. (Tug) Miss Marple excused herself, the Cook got drunk and called back.(Tug) Miss Marple explained that would be fraud. The Cook got angry and slammed down the phone. (Tug)   The Cook phoned back and wheedled. (Tuggity -Tug) Miss Marple declined and put their association into perspective for The Cook. Thinking this the end of the matter Miss Marple moved on.
A week later 'She who must be Obeyed' received a rambling rant from the Cook about Miss Marple. Assuming the sozzled old gin sack had finished assaulting our counter with pastries we all relaxed. But No! Determined to have the last word in she came when Miss Marple was alone, ten minutes before the close of the Hall of Plenty, demanded Miss Marple fetch her a seat.(Tug) Sat silently staring at her for five minutes, (Tug) then insisted she look after her umbrella whilst the Cook explored the store. (Tug)
Always polite Miss Marple refused, so when The Cook simply abandoned her umbrella on the counter, Miss Marple sellotaped it together and stuck to the front of the till, called security and left them to deal with the matter.
Hear her Roar, old woman!
We haven't seen The Cook since.

One more time!

Some days in the Hall of Plenty are like Groundhog Day;

'No, we don't do that anymore.'
'I realise it was your favourite colour.'
'No we don't make anything exactly the same.'
'This is a similar shade and would be really nice....,oh you want exactly the same?'
'Well, yes I realise you loved it but fashion changes and this would be similar....'
'No, I am not just trying to sell you anything....'
'Well I guess if you mix these two together then it would be....no, I am not trying to rip you off.'
'I know but we don't do it anymore.'
'No, I cannot tell them where they make it, that they shouldn't change the colours.'
'No we wouldn't have it in another store because we don't do it anymore.'
'Yes, I'm sorry too.'
'No we didn't do that just to upset you.'
'I don't think it is my personal responsibility to make sure we stock every lipstick we have ever made.'
'No I didn't do it on purpose because I sell them , yes if it was up to me I would too.'
'Yes it came as a surprise to me as well that we do not stock that colour any more.'
'I know, yes they do it all they time.'
'Yes ,of course they are going to hell.'
'And you have had that particular colour..... for the last ten years. Yes, I see your problem.'
'No we don't have any samples, but I could try this on you....'
'Yes of course I understand , you don't have the time.'

For Louisa.

Louisa, it is not her name but it's as good as any.
Louisa is a doctor, an educated woman, a mother, a twenty first century girl. Louisa met Tom at University. They had a lot in common, sense of humour, good looking, the power couple. When they graduated he went into I.T., she into medicine and eventually they married. Two children later, Tom decided to work at home. It made financial sense, she was the major bread winner and the children would benefit from more time with them.
One afternoon the school called Louisa, Tom hadn't picked up the children. Nobody could get him on the phone. Louisa worried. Picking up the children, she rushed to their dream home to find Tom had taken his own life.
No letter, no reasons why. She could have understood if there was an affair, or if he had started gambling. But there was nothing.
Yesterday, Louisa sent a letter complimenting the counter, thanking the girls and I for our kindness, our manners and our service.
 Today I send this message. Thank You, for your courage, grace and strength. For taking the time to do that when you have so much else on your plate.
Sometimes, the little things, do, matter.

The Grand Announcment.

When you hear the sound of cheering at the morning meeting on other floors, you just know it is going to be bad. However recently The Overseer himself, left his lofty perch and came amongst us with a great announcement, something that had raised a mighty cheer of ecstasy in menswear.
Because of the football we were to close an hour earlier.
If only I had a camera!
His munificent smile was met with blank stares and the swish of the occasional false eyelash as we tried to process this information in our perfume addled brains. With the uncomfortable scrape of the odd stiletto filling the void, we watched as his jaunty smile slid slowly off his face to lie quivering under the nearest counter until, someone in the highly fragranced  gathering  finally got it and said,
'Ooooh time off!'
Suspicious rustling of nylon followed. With an awkward , 'Yeay.' we returned to our various stations mildly puzzled.
Don't get me wrong, there are a few football fans amongst the Hall of Plenty, but so far we have been more concerned with the various cake based souvenirs than the game itself, which has turned out to be more of an anticlimax than vibrating mascaras.
So yeah, England!
 Good luck and play well, more time off means another opportunity to strut our fake tans, eat more cake and watch the Overseer struggle against a tide of deeply uninterested consultants.

Samples with a Twist.

Just when I thought life couldn't get anymore interesting, this week has proved me wrong.
 Lily bugs have invaded our lovely memorial lilies in the garden. At first 'man child' was delighted by the bright red bugs that were shagging on the family tribute to our favourite hamster, now deceased. When he discovered via the RHS website that these jewel like nympho-manics, actually gave birth to creatures that dwell within their own feaces, we had to set up Bug Watch!
Yes, 'He who pays the Mortgage' and I have spent hours ''humanely'' removing the scarlet sex fiends in jars and wiping away the small pooh nymphs, anxiously watched by our own David Attenborough.
(Should I discover in years to come, my son attached to a tree, in hessian sandals I will not be shocked.)
After that, I thought work would be a doddle.
 Unfortunately not, like the Lily bug we have witnessed the return of the Greater Stalking Sample Hunter. A most determined couple of characters, that we thought we had seen the back of.
One of them with doll like curls and timid manner, draws you in. Simpering away and full of  family sob stories, she buys things only to return them next day to another member of staff. The really clever thing is how she tries to work everyone off each other, to get her money back and a bag full of apology samples. Unhappily for her she wore out 'She who must be Obeyed's' patience and was ''discouraged to avail herself our services'' sometime last summer.
The other, is my own personal Nemesis. Wrapped in her beige mac, with a hairdo you could bounce rocks off, she stalks the Hall of Plenty interrupting make ups and consultations, demanding samples. Once, when I refused her, she went to the sample drawer and opened it. Between her hand in the drawer and my knee jamming it shut, I did think she had got the message.
Imagine my surprise, to spot her scurrying our way through the Hall of Plenty, especially given the long and dynamic history of our acquaintance. A simple change of hairstyle is enough to lure this woman to you, in the hope that you are new and don't know her. Like a moth to the flame she came.
And this time it was special!
Apparently, we don't like her on this counter and we are rude to her. We never let her try any of our samples even though she buys loads of things from our company. So when I said, 'No I'm sorry we don't have any samples for you.' She freaked out, I was rude, everybody on the counter was rude, she didn't even know why she shopped at this Hall of Plenty.
It has become apparent to us, that these two are the operatives of some geriatric Fagin. A criminal mastermind, who runs a team of old women sample hunters from the run down premises of a former hair dressers. Living off the profits of eBay sales, by photographing the samples too close up and selling them as full size. Whilst he indulges his passion for back combing and tonged curls upon them, under the influence of a very serious hairspray addiction.
What other explanation could there be!

On not having Air Con!

When you wear nylon on your lower arrangements, it pays to have air cooling device available  in your working environment.
Having children that know about global warming and the impact Air Con has on the world, only serves to create tension at home.
So, with a gusset the temperature of a small tropical island and a headache from the arguments with my politically correct minors, I have learnt a valuable lesson.
Colleagues are the right people to moan with about work related issues !

Approachability

The Gods see fit every year, to haul us out of the Hall of Plenty for some training, ego massaging and a Cosmetics based treat. Ours is always fun, if not slightly hypnotic and there is, as ever, something to be learnt.
This year it was Approachability. We are in a recession , so being approachable has never been more important.
After lots of interesting fun and games, some news and a good lunch, we all returned to the Hall of Plenty fired up with brand enthusiasm and determined to be approachable.
Yes, determination combined with approachability.
'She who must be obeyed', led her troops in a soul destroying series of events, that left us an empty desert island amongst the sea of customers in the Hall of Plenty
Popping up enthusiastically and offering a deaf old lady a tissue, is actually guaranteed to make her scream with shock and be taken away with a suspected heart attack. Not endear her to you.
Creeping up to women browsing the makeup bar, like the Child Catcher in Chitty-Chitty Bang Bang with shinny lip gloss in hand , only makes them flee else where.
Saying you admire someones coat, jewellery or outfit,  makes them suspicious and then leave slowly, so you won't just randomly talk to them as they go.
And when a regular customer says,
'Okay, you lot can stop smiling now, its actually very disturbing.'
One can only assume our natural, slightly grumpy, irreverant humoured approach is the way to go.
Let them try to rebrand that!

Lamb Chops.

Ah, Mutton Season.
The sun has emerged bringing with it that rarest of customers, Mutton and not just the desperate divorcee in her teenage daughters clothes. We are talking hard core, sinewy Mutton, the aged gold digger gone to seed.
 Stick thin pensioner's that force new hips into skinny jeans, teetering carefully on expensive designer platforms, false nails clattering in delight at the Cruise wear Corals arrayed across the counters.Fluttering ancient blue lids at the almost dead Sugar Daddy, to obtain the latest trendy lipstick they smear haphazardly across augmented lips.
False breasts strain against delicate grey skin, like bowling balls in 10 denier tights, as they peruse the skincare, hoping that cellulite creams will support the flappy buttocks years of dedicated anorexia has left.
With carefully constructed hair, they totter from counter to counter catching up with the latest trends, veneers glinting in the store lights, manipulated snouts sniffing out the most extreme , most expensive items, dead Daddy can buy.
These women will grip on to youth harder than Ranulph Fiennes in crampons.
A secret pleasure for us is to bleat as they pass by, alerting our colleagues to whip out the most expensive or garish of items at the Fountain of Youth in the Hall of Plenty.

Limited Edition.

Miss White has a message she would like the world to share.
The phrase Limited Edition, means just that.
Apparently, she does not have a spare 'whatever it is', under the counter, in a drawer or clutched between nylon clad buttocks just waiting for you.
Pulling out your bottom lip, batting your eyelashes or telling her, your wife will never forgive you, will not work because it is gone. No more.

Limited - restricted, confined, without scope; narrow.
Edition - form in which something is published.

Limited Edition, restricted amount of product.

It is not difficult, when it is gone, it is really gone. So having said that, why are we always hearing the same things?

'Oh , but I really liked it. It was a lovely , pinky, reddy orange and it really made my lips look nice. It was about three years ago. Are you sure you don't do it anymore?'

'I'm sorry, but you know that Limited Edition that was out this Christmas, have you  still got any?'

'So does that mean you don't have anymore?'

'Are you sure you're not getting anymore in?'

'Oh, does that mean they will never, ever make it again?'

Yes it does. They will never, ever, ever make it again, nor do we have something that looks just like it, now go away stupid!

The Rottweiler.

Whilst discussing the last post, Miss Marple reminded us of 4 glorious weeks one Christmas, when we were blessed with the temporary presence of 'The Rottweiler.'
Just to prove that not everyone is suited to life in Retail, we shall take a trip down memory lane.
A few years ago, a Christmas temp came to work with us. A Solicitor in the making, she was pleasant company and a very efficient temp, willing to jump through all the hoops needed to work with the public, except when roused.
Without explaining every situation, as they are to complex and lengthy, here are some of her best quotes.

'Do I look like your f******g psychiatrist, I'm not here to chat. Buy something or go.'
'If you poke me again I will break your finger, madam.'
'Forget it , shall I do us both a favour and get the manager so you can complain about me and I can get you banned?'
'So, you used all the lipstick and then you brought it back because it didn't last long enough? Does this sound as stupid to you, as it did to me, when you said it?'
'Sorry you want to return that present, because? ........ Oh yeah you're ungrateful, no I get it! Fine.'
'What, you think I am intimidated because you can read my name badge, get out!'
'Please, you say please when you ask for something.'

Sadly, she was asked to leave when she told a customer in a fur coat  it was disgusting. We remember her fondly and like to imagine her eating murder's and rapists  for breakfast.

Serious Thoughts.

It has always been my intention to write a blog that is a light hearted look at life on a Beauty Counter from the Consultants point of view, but with the very sad recent events in Manchester, the mood has turned sombre in the Hall of Plenty.
When not serving our customers, talk has turned to the subject of how vulnerable we in the service industry are. It is well documented that nurses, firemen, police are often attacked when performing their duty, however less well reported are the abuses upon those of us who pedal our wares to the public.
 To many this is irrelevant, we are the face of big brands, not public servants dedicated to saving lives. Yet in the last 10 years alone, three shop workers have been murdered on the shop floor. In comparison to national statistics this is not a huge amount when you look at the numbers of people killed crossing the road, but for those of us that work in retail it is three too many.
Often unreported are the small attacks, the verbal, the physical and the mental. In 2010 we face a more and more the aggressive customer who feels it is their right to get what they want in spite of the consequences.
'She who must be Obeyed' experienced just that on Thursday night.
Whilst serving one customer, another arrived. Rather than wait till the first customer was finished the newcomer stomped to another counter and demanded someone serve her with our products. The unfortunate consultant explained that she was not familiar with our product but she would do her best. This was received with a volley of foul mouthed insults best suited to a touretts suffering, professional swear word creator for the Oxford English Dictionary.
 'She who must be Obeyed'  was lucky enough to have completed her sale and meet the pair heading back to our counter. After five minutes of abuse, the woman actually ordered what she wanted insisting she be served. She did not let up through out the entire time.
Approached by our valiant floor manager, the customer was informed that we did not have to serve her at all and that swearing was not the ideal way to receive first class service. Apparently the customer didn't care and left with her items in a cloud of abuse.
This is just one story amongst the hundreds we have to deal with day in day out and it is getting more frequent.
 One theory is that consumer programmes give people a false sense of their own rights, not the ones where someone is clearly being ripped off or abused, but the ones that say, 'You can bargain over the price.'
Because you see, white goods do have a negotiable profit margin but mascara doesn't.
Another theory is that the 'Gimme more' type customer is not used to hearing , no.
On our counter, we have decided that some people are just rude.
However, until the industry itself recognises that  it's representatives are not consumer punching bags to be undermined as soon as a customer shouts loud enough, I fear we will always be abused in some way.

Fun and games at the Hall of Plenty.

Since the Scandal that rocked the Hall of Plenty, security have been almost demonic about, well, security.
So when one of them spotted some peculiar behaviour a couple of weeks ago, they began stalking people around our skincare.
Apparently there is a new scam in town. Walk up to a counter, refuse help by saying your just browsing and then scrape out the entire contents of a jar of moisturiser into your hand and walk away.
Like it is worth the hassle!
Anyway, yesterday after a lengthy sting operation that included several  plain clothes security guards , who were putting customers off by lurking in an apparently 'casual manner.' There was nothing casual about it in our opinion. Mrs X arrives and is there a single security guard to be found? No!
So Miss Pankhurst takes matters into her own hands. Just as the entire contents of anti wrinkle cream is removed, Miss Pankhurst offers Mrs X a tissue.
I cannot truly describe everything that happened, but she decided to pursue the woman about the shop floor asking her loudly, if she would like to buy what she had in her hand. Offering to gift wrap it in the jar it came in and if she didn't then she could wipe her hands on these tissues.
It is a large Hall of Plenty and took quite awhile for Mrs X to get through it.
Miss Pankhurst was victorious. I don't think Mrs X will be coming back. We managed to get most of the cream out of Miss Pankhurst hair before she left and apparently there is some very good footage on the security cameras!

Take the mint!

The Overseer has finally appointed a new Guardian of the Shop Floor in the Hall of Plenty. With a grin like Gordon Brown he sailed through the counters introducing his new protegee. Poor thing, there is a sweep stake on how long it will take to get tears from her. I hope she holds out, I've got her at two months.

Meanwhile, we have been surprised again by just how revolting our customers can be.
 Miss Pankhurst our politically aware consultant, was horrified to approach a customer browsing at the makeup only to be handed her false teeth in a plastic bag. The woman demanded Miss Pankhurst put them into her handbag for her because, she had been to the dentist and was too woozy to do it herself. How she managed to get across the main road  into our store and what she was doing with a full set of teeth in her head already , nobody knows.
 She Who Must be Obeyed declared it to be 'One of those days' and by lunch time she was right.
Countless people, despite the obvious 'none smell' of the actual bottle and the bloody obvious paper tester strips in front , are still stuffing the fragrance bottles up their noses.
Given the who -ha people make over hygiene, why do women still try on lipsticks straight from the counter?  We might clean them, but if we offer you the opportunity to try it with a brush and a new one from out of the drawer, surely you would take it instead of saying 'no' then sticking it on anyway. You wouldn't go and lick a MRSA patients wounds, just because you can't see the last person who did that doesn't mean they did not have Herpes!
The lady who farted in a Carol Thatcher moment whilst discussing foundations with Miss Marple, need never come back either.
And take note , it is only polite to take the mint offered to you by the nice Make up lady, she has her reasons.

Why don't I look like her?

Yesterday somebody asked me an interesting question,
Why don't I look like her?
She was speaking of the model on one of our adverts. Now I don't know why she didn't genetics, location, colouring all of these could have been a factor, but then a woman browsing amongst our lipsticks said,
'Look, even she doesn't look like that in real life.'
And it's true, non of them really look that way.
Fact, lots of publicity pictures are done on their back so everything hangs the right way.
Another fact, inner beauty, bollocks! The models are chosen for their look and their ability to be a good canvas to present an image, image not reality.
Fact, it takes at least four people and a good couple of hours to do that.
Super Fact, I have seen prettier women walking down the street everyday.
Super duper fact, just because you photograph well doesn't mean you are bright, happy, really that thin.

We should stop comparing and start putting make up in it's place. It is there to make you look the best you, you can be. And if that means tangerine with fake eye lashes, fine. If it means simply using skin care and never, ever using any of that crap that Satan's Nylon Devils shove at you, fine! Let's not treat it as a crime not to be perfect, because the fact is non of us are and it is okay. We can enhance what we have, deal with what we don't like or cover it up and not worry.

To groom or not to groom, that is the question. whether it is nobler to grow out the armpit hair, or take up the epilator against the tide of the natural beauty and by grooming end it. To wax , to dye, to tan no more.....

Miss Pankhurst pointed out, Egypt would look a lot different if the Pharaohs were spotty, air brushing is not a modern phenomenon nor is idealism.

Rushing naked into a bears den!

Now, I don't know about you but I thought in 2010 we were grown up and sophisticated, savvy, astute humans who would avoid the arse-achingly obvious, stupid remark. But I was WRONG.
During a bout of extreme make up, one late April afternoon ( last week). Miss Marple approached a lovely woman at the fragrance bar. Assured that she could browse in peace, the woman explained she was waiting for her husband to arrive so she could buy her favourite fragrance. Miss Marple left her to browse away and we merrily carried on making up our ladies.
When the gentleman in question did arrive, he waved Miss Marple over and the following conversation was had,
Miss Marple, 'Ah hello sir, so what can we do for you?'
Sir, 'What can you do for me? What can you do with that.' He pointed, AT HIS WIFE!
Brushes clattered to the floor, women in all states of repair gasped and the poor lady blushed.
Never one to waste an opportunity, Miss Marple gave the situation some thought. This was highlighted by Miss White ducking behind the counter and removing the ribbon scissors from her reach.
Miss Marple replied, 'Well sir, there doesn't appear to be much we can do for that as she appears pretty perfect to me, but you on the other hand..... (women in their seats leaned forward) .... we can take you over there and bang your head repeatedly in a drawer until you don't say things like that again.'
Sir blushed. 'I'm sorry,'he mumbled to Miss Marple. She pointed to his wife.
(The woman on the other side of the make up table stood for a better look, despite having only one eyebrow penciled on.)
'I'm sorry,' he said to his hugely embarrassed wife.
Miss Marple, 'Right, so how much are you going to spend to make that up then?'
'Err I suppose I'd better get the big one.'
And he did.
Then next hour after they left, was one of unbridled feminism and our conclusion was, never in the history of the Hall of Plenty has any man, ever said anything as stupid as that. As Miss White astutely said, it was like covering yourself in honey and rushing naked in to a bears den.

Deeply Unpleasant!

I love working on Sundays.The 'tiny hands' get a chance to bond with 'he who pays the mortgage'. We have dinner with my parents and the Sunday Crew in the Hall of Plenty are always relaxed. So when something deeply unpleasant happens, we all get a bit miffed.
Late afternoon and a couple turn up on a counter, not saying which, but it was not ours.They wish to return products bought from the company the counter represents, however they have no receipt, the products are not in the right boxes and whilst saying they were a present they insist they were from our particular Hall of Plenty.
It has happened to us all, but what made this so odious, yes ODIOUS was that in an effort to get what they wanted, they reduced a Cosmetics Consultant to tears. Bad move! Whilst more laid back on Sundays, we are no pushovers.
Unfortunately, the nasty little man who insisted he knew someone, who was someone high up, in something to do with our Hall of Plenty, got his knickers in a bit of a twist when confronted by several nylon clad consultants. Smiling and reassuring sir that,
'There was nothing anyone in this store could do without proof of purchase.'
It is amazing what customers will say.
'Do you know who I am?'
'I am a very good customer here,'
'I will complain to your superior.'
'It is in your stores bag.'
'Don't patronise me.'
'Of course you can do something for me, I know you can, there is a lot you can do for me to make up for this bad service.'
'I know I don't have a receipt but this was bought from your store and this counter, I know because it was a gift to us.'
 So okay,
 A) No we don't know who you are , but we do know you are shouting so you must be unsure of your story. Real and genuine returns are not accompanied by shouty, sweaty top lips.
B) If you were a good customer, we would know who you were. You would be that really nice man who buys loads of stuff and we would get a floor manager to ring you in the week, to talk to you about the particular company's returns policy.
C) Complain away , we will not get into trouble because we are doing what the 'Hall of Plenty' requires us to do, refusing to take a return without proof of purchase!
D) It could be lodged in the front bumper of the Overseers car and parked neatly in the front door, but if you don't have a receipt it is not coming back. Oh yes, the bag in question did not belong to our floor and the store hadn't used those since Christmas and it is APRIL.
E) Patronise - assume a air of superiority toward, condescend. - Simply explaining store policy and apologising is not patronising. Attempting to get your own way by saying you know someone high up in the company is.
F) If you know so much, then surely you know it is not bad service you are receiving but a no and you don't like it. Shouting is rude, saying I'm sorry but there is nothing we can do, isn't.
G) If it was a gift, how do you know where it was bought from and if you know somebody well enough to buy you two hundred pounds worth of cosmetics then surely you can ask for the gift receipt that is supplied with every gift that is gift wrapped from our store.

Dear Sir, we are aware of most of the tricks and scams out there . From buying stuff on E-bay, not being happy then trying to get the full price back from a retailer, to customers purchasing stuff, realising they have spent too much and taking it back. Once being the recipient of a return that was used then refilled with baby lotion, I can tell you NO means NO!
We have been screamed at, had stuff thrown at us. Watched customers flip out and blame us for not having the stock they wanted. Been poked, had people click their fingers at us for service. Tell us we are inadequate because we informed them that the product they were describing was made by another company and been threatened many times, by many customers that in our opinion need chemical help.
Yet, to reduce a grown Cosmetics Consultant to tears because you were not getting what you wanted was deeply unpleasant.
You sir and your overmade up, tangerine wife are DEEPLY UNPLEASANT.

My worst nightmare.

We all have likes and dislikes, some of us have phobias. Snakes, spiders, I know someone who even has a phobia of sliced tomatoes.
Mine sadly is Dwarfs.
I know, I am a horrid person.  I wish I didn't but I do. For that reason I have never seen, read or touched The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings is safe from my prying eyes.  I go out of my way not to infect my children with my phobia and am completely aware it is some bigoted ism' but I just can't help myself, I hate em. It is all I can do to stop my self bashing them with shoes.
Over the years my shame has spread across the Hall of Plenty much to the amusement of my colleagues I have endured the jokes and even one particular day when Miss Marple had stuck an entire collection of Trolls in the drawers.
They have however always made sure I do not embarrass myself or insult any of our smaller customers with great sympathy.
So imagine my confusion when I arrived back after lunch to the anxious faces of an entire shop floor. My two o'clock make over had arrived. And yes, she was.
Not small, TINY, hairy with a hump and a glass eye.
Under such circumstances it has long been my way to think of Saint Princess of Diana. If she can shake a stump, I can make over a dwarf. So with gritted teeth and a box of tissues on hand, I made her beautiful.
A very lovely person, with a lot to say.  In her tiny high pitched voice.
After 45 minutes I had never been so drained. Leaving her to arrange her purchases with my colleagues, I made my way to the beauty rooms in the store. On finding an empty one I let rip to the full force of my emotions. Congratulating myself on how well I had done, I rearranged myself to exit the room, only to discover my little friend had followed me to thank me for being so nice.
Thank god for sound proofing.
The irony is not lost on me or this bottle of wine I am half way through!

Election Special.

It's happened, Politics has entered the Hall of Plenty. And I don't mean, who gets priority in the Stock Room, politics either. Actually, if you carry a lot of stock then you are pretty much guaranteed a good space in the hell that is the basement. So applying beauty counter logic to Downing Street, John Prescott would be Prime Minister for ever.
No, the paralysis in the skies was just too short a subject for Friday morning and I don't know who said it, but,
'David Cameron was a bit dehydrated, his fake tan looked patchy.'
The gloves were off!
Never mind the manifesto's, in the Hall of Plenty this election will be decided by skin tone, hydration, matification. Nice hands, good nail grooming, too much - to little make up. What lip colour the wives choose and hair.
You know, the strange thing is, we decided Nick Clegg had good skin and just look at the poles.
 Check out Barack Obama if you don't believe. Great skin, perfectly hydrated but not too shiny. Great hands, well moisturised. Michelle, obviously immaculate.
The speculation over whether David Cameron will get more Um-pa Lumpa as they go on, is rife. And it is a fine tipping point, should Nick Clegg's wife disappoint it could all go horribly wrong. Just like a pink lipstick matched with a coral blusher. No!
Our resident Peter Snow, very in touch with her Pankhurst side thinks that as long as Dr. Who still has a ginger companion, then Gordon actually has a chance.
So be warned boys, this season it's all about B.B.C. Blend, Balance and Co-ordinate.

Our Top Ten!

It's been a bit of tumble-weed week, with the sun shinning and the Easter holidays stretching on endlessly. Can you believe it's only another two terms till Summer slump time?
Between you and me, that is the time we play silly buggers. You know, flick rubber bands across the shop floor at each other with pinpoint accuracy. Stuff citrus fruits down our bra's to see exactly what a boob job would look like and have 'How many Skittles can you get in your mouth' Competitions. Actually that one ended quite badly when the phone rang and Miss White - face of an angel very large mouth - automatically answered the phone with three quarters of a packet in her mouth and breathed in.
Anyway, in between dusting the shelves. Cleaning the fragrance bottles, that are still being rammed up peoples noses and numerically ordering the lipsticks, we compiled our top ten customer comments.

10) 'These lipsticks, what do they do?
  9) Of the Sold Out stickers we put on items - 'This eye shadow, Sold Out do you have any?'
 8) ' Hi, I'm going away next week and I wondered, as I have a travel restriction on weight do you have any of those sample's things I could take with me?'- Didn't you say that last week?- 'Err no.'
 7) 'Do you sell make up here?'
 6) 'Do you know where I could find - the lifts-men-the stairs-the doors-anywhere that sells make up?
 5) 'Do you sell eyelids?'
 4) 'Do all those perfumes smell different?'
 3)Does your hand cream come in a smaller size than that?' -No madam- ' No it's too big, it's for my friends handbag, she is dead.'
 2) 'Where is your make up?' - Just there.- 'No that's no good!'- Why ? - 'I can't see it.' - But madam the display is six foot long- 'But I can't see it!' (And she was not blind.)
1) On the phone - 'Great your bronze's have arrived , now what colour do you recommend for me?' - ON THE PHONE!
All true and honest comments made to us by the Great British Public.

All change.

After a few days bonding with 'the Tiny hands', we have been down mines, had a pub lunch, watched films at the cinema and eaten far too much chocolate whilst discussing Jesus and planting flowers. My children are starting to get as bolshy as those kids on Outnumbered. I arrived back at work to discover that Our Glorious Leader is leaving the store.
Not 'She who must be obeyed' but he who runs the store. Sad for us because he's a jolly chap who has his head screwed on. That leaves us with the' Great Overseer'. Now not wishing to be cruel but when ever he sets foot on the shop floor quite a number of people hum the Darth Vader theme tune and a couple of the girls from another brand have named him Voldemort.
I predict that in the future this blog will involve a few internal rants.
It's not that he is awful, just very intense. My first encounter with him was not great, he strode up, invaded my personal space and asked, 'What's wrong with you lot then?' 
For some reason he was not impressed when I put my finger to my temples and said,
'Sorry nothing is coming through , you'll have to give me a clue.'

Well, we will just have to wait and see who comes forward to lift the sword of  Destiny at the 'Hall of Plenty' next.