Competition Winner.

We have a winner!
It is a story that takes the absolute biscuit of Consultant experiences. I shall say no more until we have edited it as suitable for this blog. In the meantime I would like to thank everyone who sent me their stories. We are simply astounded by  the variety of ways people can be horrid to those of us in the service industry.
For anyone who didn't get all the famous retailers at the side of the page, they are ; Arkwright and Granville (Open All Hours.)  The Shopkeeper at the Fancy Dress shop. (Mr.Benn) Mr. Rumbold (Are You Being Served.) Mrs. Lovett (Sweeney Todd.) Rita and Mavis (Coronation Street.) Willy Wonka (Charlie And The Chocolate Factory.)  Mr. Sainsbury (Sainsbury's) Mr. Humphrey's' (Are You Being Served.)

All personal favourites of mine, I revel in my eclectic taste.
Thank you and join us soon for our guest experience.

Mole X

Rude is just rude!

As I enter the zone that is Half -Term, I shall be rendered temporarily unavailable for posting. Frankly spending time with two very boisterous children, zooming from the cinema to laser quest only stopping to plonk He Who Pays the Mortgages' dinner on the table, leaves me so exhausted that I can hardly lift my painted fingers to gesture to the non-indicating drivers who cut me up. So pardon me, I have expanded my abilities on the blog spot and scheduled this.

This week we discovered , via Miss Marple and a night at the theatre, that customers everywhere, of all shapes and sizes can be just as rude to each other as they are to us. On a lovely trip to the theatre Miss Marple wore her new suede shoes. Gorgeous creamy suede untouched by weather, greasy fingers or anything that would mar the wonder of the elegant sitting-down shoes. The first act went well. During the interval Miss Marple and her date made it to the bar but with the queue so long her gallant beau offered to fetch her drink if she found some seats. Whilst scanning the crowd a large foot pressed heavily onto one of Miss Marple's feet. As anyone with manners would she apologised trying to attract the attention of the shoe crusher, whose foot remained firmly on top of the new suede shoe. Struggling like a pinned moth, Miss Marple only managed to free her foot by poking the foot crusher hard in the ribs. When she said,
'I'm terribly sorry but you were standing on my foot.'
A large woman in maroon elasticated pants simply gave her a dirty look. Decidedly miffed by the comfortable shoe mark on her suede , she gave the woman another poke and said,
'I believe it is at this point that you apologise to me as you were the one who stood on my new shoes.'
The woman replied haughtily,
'I am disabled,' and waved a cane.
' What?' cried Miss Marple. 'Disabled? I don't actually think that means your manners are f******g crippled! I don't think carrying a stick, inhibits the free use of apologies.'
The woman's' companion said,
'How dare you abuse a disabled woman!'
' Oi, she is the one who stood on me.....'   Miss Marple was cut short by the appearance of the date and swept back to the safety of the theatre.

And I think that just goes to show it doesn't matter where you are, who you are, what you are, if you are rude then your just plain rude!

Competition Time!

No we haven't created a dodge-ball team to take on other stores. Let's face it, we could probably raise a handbag throwing team or compete vigorously in an eyebrow plucking demonstration. In fact if there was a 'scathing remarks' tag team event, you could count us in!  Slipper-Mouth's chihuahua once won a 'Sassiest Walk' at a dog show, so we do have some competitive spirit on the shop floor.

Sadly that is not what I have to declare. No, because I am giving someone in Cosmetics, or other retail departments, the chance to relate their worst customer experience to the world.

Here is how it works, name me all of the famous retailers on this page in the comments box below and a brief description of your experience, along with your e-mail address and you will get to relate your story on this blog next month.
Molly doesn't count I'm afraid , so we can leave her out. Scroll down the page and you will find some obvious and some obscure retailers from the last 40 years on T.V and film. Fill in the comment form (these will be filtered and secure and not published) and get your chance to tell the world.

Good Luck
Mole X

!!!! Somebody has already sent me a comment to point out that one of these images is not from film or t.v. Well smart arse there has been a documentary about them in the last two years that appeared on T.V for a very significant anniversary, so NO I am not making it too hard!!!!!!!

Happy Valentines X

Kerrching!
 It's Valentines Day, second only in the retail calendar to Christmas. Good way to sort out all the near divorces Christmas brought. For all you lovers in retail out there, here is a link piece of retail gold captured on film.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3U4I1quv1rY

The Hall of Plenty is awash with pink, roses, cupcakes, love hearts. All with the exception of our little island. No, we are not allowed to display any frippery. It is with much envy that we are watching Dippy Peacock try to revive some very pretty but tired flowers he has been instructed to describe as 'antiqued'. Shop speak for nearly dying. However we have managed to snaffle a few passing cupcakes. The sugar rush should keep us on our toes whilst 'She who Must be Obeyed' gets to the bottom of a new policy concerning maintenance. Apparently, we are no longer allowed to call them directly,  any contact must be made through a floor manager.
So to get our lights that should turn on automatically, turned on; somebody rewired them not  to work with everyone else's, we must wait to find a floor manager and get them to call maintenance.

Ahhh retail mangement. Who loves ya baby!

Retail therapy?

There only a  few jobs where you get undermined and abused on a daily basis. Ours is one of them.
Sunday was a great example of that.

Enter probably the rudest woman on the face of the planet;
'Where is this lipstick?'
(Right between my eyes actually madam.) 'If I could just see which number it is....Ahh I am sorry, but we do not make that lipstick anymore...'
Tut. 'Which one is the nearest?'
'If I could just see the colour then I will try to match it up.'
'So you don't know what colour this is?'
'Well, it has been a while.....'
'No it hasn't.'
'I'm sorry?'
'I only bought this recently.'
'Err okay well, I am not familiar with that particular colour...'
'Here look.'  (Madam waves the indistinct colour from 2009 summer collection at my face again.)
'If you could just put some on the back of my hand, I will get a brush...'
'No.'
'Err,'
'I'm not wasting it on your hand.'
'Errr, right well we will just have to do our best with the colour then..... how about this?'
'No.'
'This one?'
'No. None of them are like my colour.'
'Well it is from a different collection....they are very sheer....'
'For goodness sake why do they do that?'
'?'
'Stop making an entire type of lipstick, that's just stupid.'
(Aha, I have an answer for this.) ' It is to keep in line with trends in fashion, the designers are working  about five years ahead so....'
'That was a rhetorical question, I don't want to hear your answer , you can go.'

If I had recorded that and made a documentary how different would peoples attitude to us be? Apparently since 'The Secret Shopper' aired earlier this month, complaints to our Hall of Plenty have risen by 70%.

Already we have received a cyber-complaint from a woman who couldn't understand her receipt was out of date and, as tax had gone up, she would have to pay the difference between any items she swapped. Twist and turn the debate as she might, she could not get past having to stump up the extra money which was grudgingly slapped down on the counter by her daughter - in - law. None of which was bad service,
because we agreed to change her item even though her receipt was out of date, we just had to charge her the difference. Why ? Because that is the policy in the Hall of Plenty. So she went and fired off an e-mail in response. I would love to scan it in and show you, but, you know anonymous and all that. The gist of it was , she had a hideous experience, was shocked and distressed and was only saved from the situation by her daughter- in - law.
No, we didn't try to murder her or hold her hostage but she was 'shocked and distressed'. It would take more than being charged two quid for a lipstick I hadn't bought in the first place to shock me, but there you go.

Now pin back your ears everybody!
 It is not bad service that you are receiving if you don't get your own way, there are some things that are just fact. We cannot just give you discount because you think you deserve it; we would get fired for stealing.  We cannot just change something that you don't like without a receipt; we would get disciplined for breaking store policy. We CANNOT just swap things for different colours, smells or textures just because they are the same brand without proof of purchase. WHY? Because, everything that is bought or sold has a unique code that belongs to the store that owns the stock, so WE WOULD GET IN TROUBLE with our store.
Crazy as it may seem  stores have these security policies to stop the whole sale swapping, nicking or frauding of luxury items, so that genuine brand loyal customers can receive an item worthy of their money.

Customers really need to understand that we will not put up with their stupidity, lies or bullying. I don't care what fantastical story they come up with, an out of date receipt is out of date. Shouting at me is not going to change that.
 A lipstick that we don't make anymore will not mysteriously appear from up my arse if you are rude to me.
The product you obviously kept for over six months, judging by the colour and the build up of dust on the lid, will not become faulty no matter how hard you stamp your feet, I am not your mother.

We go to work to earn money and hopefully have a nice day doing so. If the way you treat us is any indication of your personality then shame on you, you deserve everything coming to you.

Retail therapy? In my experience it should be, get some therapy.

O.M. G!!!!!

I hate text abbreviations, yet I am so gobsmacked that I shall indulge me-self.
I  L.O.L  about five minutes ago when I heard some utter idiot, browsing the tut, whingeing about having to cancel their holiday in Egypt.
W.T.F?
Apparently those 'selfish savages' have ruined  her holiday by their 'unreasonable' behaviour.
Now, it is not my place to re-educate the general public. (Thank god Mrs. Pankhurst is on honeymoon.) but I really do think someone who has reached approximately sixty years of age would appreciate that the people of Egypt are actually protesting for free and fair elections. When you chance getting shot in the head just to vote things must be pretty grim. Whilst I am sure that those same 'unreasonable savages' would be very pleased to have her grace their country with her plenty pounds and condescending manner, I am even more sure they would like to elect their own leaders.
Let it not be forgotten that once-upon-a-time, not everyone in Britain was able to vote and just last year a number of voters were turned away at polling stations. So, whilst madam is busy condemning a nation struggling for it's rights just because it buggered up her holiday, the less stupid of us should keep one eye on our own voting system and cast an admiring glance at people forcing change the way our great, great grandparents did.
So G.F.Y madam. Don't make me L.O.L at your selfish ignorance.

Handbags and hermaphrodites.

It's done, Miss Pankhurst is now a married woman. What a beautiful bride, what a lovely day and what a dignified man the Fiance, rather the Husband, is. We had an emotional roller-coaster of a day, tears of joy and quite a few of laughter. My heart went out to the staff at the venue though.
One unfortunate young man was subjected to snatches of conversation at our end of the dining table that included, a misunderstanding about one of us being a hermaphrodite and two of us swapping banter about farting in each others faces. All innocent lady like conversations when not taken out of context. However our credibility took a dive on discussing our handbags. Tit tape and gas powered curling tongs that resembled a marital aid emerged and the poor fella nearly dropped the sorbets. One could have cleared up the misunderstanding, but the mental image of chasing a waiter around a wedding breakfast waving gas powered curling tongs kept us sniggering in our seats.
It's back to reality now with only the memory of that wonderful day to keep us warm against the chill of the customer. Mind you, the arrogant young dandy that pushed past me on the escalator raised a wry smile yesterday. One of the handrails wasn't working in time with the steps and as he went for a well practised casual pose, designed to expose maximum tight buttocked-ness in his low slung tight black pants and his pointy shoes, he was spun around and clattered off the thing into mens wear with all the elegance of a wounded gazelle.

What's the problem with children?

I get chills when I read things like , 'Should children be banned from planes?' for one reason. Children are not the problem, parents are the problem. In the Hall of Plenty we get women so badly suited to motherhood that they will say of a six week old baby,
'Oh he/she is being naughty today.'
Really? I'm mean REALLY?
Explain to me how a six week old baby can be naughty exactly. Crying! Have you tried checking it's nappy?
Still crying! Have you fed it, burped it, brought it out at a deeply inappropriate time, kept it up when it wants to sleep or maybe, just maybe, it is aware that you are more interested in mascara and lipstick than your baby.
Vain women who have babies because it gets them attention, then act like the child has interrupted their very busy life ,when they really want to concentrate on buying more makeup, should leave their kids at home.
Case in point; the woman who was so busy with her fake eyelashes, ignored her son's desperate pleas to take him to the toilet and caused him to wee all over the floor, will never know what damage she did to his self esteem in the long term.

Yesterday a couple came to the counter  with a child in a pushchair, a lovely little boy who was quite obviously exhausted and even more obviously teething, and what was the first thing she said to me when I said hello to the child?
'Ignore him, he is being very naughty today.'
I may be an average consultant but I am a bloody good mother, and so I asked,
'How? How is he being naughty? Surely he can only be ''naughty'' by your adult judgement, given that he is, what, eighteen months old? I would suggest he is being tortured by his gums and is exhausted, and would probably benefit from some care and attention at home, he can't be naughty because he doesn't know what naughty is. Where you looking for any particular mascara?'
She did try to stare me out , whilst her addled brain worked out what I had said. The husband was a lot quicker and went red but utterly ignored the child.

And that, I am afraid, is typical of the chattering classes, they have a kid because it seems like a good idea and then they loose all compassion for it because it won't conform or behave in a way they think it should.
Children are not adults or playthings. They are unformed human beings who learn every good or bad thing from their parents, so let's face it, children are not the problem. We are!

G- strings and jazz hands.

There are days when getting into work can seem like a jog through a a scene from Inception, folding cities included. Public transport, children so mesmerised by whatever is in the bathroom they freeze, toothbrush in hand, making you late. Lost books and keys..... always the keys. Four trips back to pick up things somebody forgot off the sofa. Life is not easy for the working parent.
Yet, when it goes well and you sweep into work on time, perky, full of jolly banter , there is always something to trip one up. Apart from decree's sent from above that is. I have to say, the little thunder bolts sent down from Mount Olympus have been so sporadic and irrelevant recently, we are mostly immune to them now.

 I 'm rambling aren't I ?
 Sorry.

And so today's offender of the faith? A woman who inserted the spray button of a fragrance bottle up her nostril, TWICE.
 Anyone who reads this blog more than once will know about our mass hatred of bottle snorters. Why? Because it is dirty. Yes, dirty, nasty, ignorant people. 
Oh, swine flu ! I'm so scared!
Not bloody scared enough on approaching a counter, full of lovely bottles of beautifully blended  fragrance,  to stop shoving them up your nose.  When you leave a little bit of moisture and a  blobby grey sticky bit, do you know what we do? 
We chuck the whole thing in the bin. 
Ahhwww, could you have taken that? That lovely half full tester that is now wasted in a skip somewhere? Could you? It is a waste isn't it? Somebody should just clean it down shouldn't they? 

No, actually. My colleagues and I are not in the business of cleaning up human waste. So keep your secretions to yourselves and stop sticking bottles up your MRSA shaft. God, it is bad enough when women try lipstick on their fingers after they have dragged a bit of sweaty G- string from up their cracks.
Oh yes they do!
They don't notice themselves, but quite a lot of legging wearers give their minge attire a quick subconscious adjustment on a Saturday. Down go the bags, up comes the top, out of the butt-crack it comes and then,

'Oooh I love that colour'.
Jazz hands straight on the eye-shadows!

Nice thought eh?

Contrary Mary.

Well, well, well.  So there is a television series from Mary Portas focusing on bad service.
I know this is a normally lighthearted, sometimes scathing, blog from the Cosmetics Consultants point of view and that often I have pop at the customers expense, but I think there is a dilemma to be pondered here.

I have posted the link below that leads to an article reviewing the Secret Shopper episode one.
http://gu.com/p/2mgkn

I found it puzzling and not a little bit condescending, the review not the program. Surely, wherever we spend our money, we are entitled to some professional service and for two very good reasons.
Firstly because selling is a profession. You pay for your item and the sales person is paid for their time. I think a transaction that involves money defines the point, otherwise it would be charity and slave labour.
And secondly, high street business spends a fortune on training sales staff, so not providing good service is technically stealing from you boss.

Is Mary  doing a good job then?
Yes and No, in my opinion, programmes such as this expose companies to fundamental problems with staff training. But where can you find an exposee' of customer behaviour? For those of us that take our job seriously, there is precious little back up when a customer defies all training and is just plain rude.

 The backlash of know-it-all customers we received after 'Dom whats-his-face', bargained like a tourist at a Moroccan bazaar all over daytime television, was bad enough.
'What's your best price for this fragrance?'
'I'll tell you what the best price for that fragrance is mate, the one I just bloody told you!'  That is really what goes through a consultants mind as they smile sympathetically. When they say, 'Well you have to ask,'  what we really think is.'No you don't you cheap arse, it's not a fridge. Look how embarrassed your wife is!'
They do this because they cannot define between goods that you can bargain for, antiques, secondhand cars, etc; and goods you can't. LIPSTICK, FRAGRANCE, SKINCARE.

So what, I ask with a shudder that reaches to my nylon clad core, are we to expect from eager watchers of Mary Portas? Will they be telling us our job's? Probably. Will they be expecting discount if they have to wait for a consultant to finish with one customer before they are served? Absolutely!
Nobody has yet shown the kind of treatment, well trained, polite staff have to deal with from the everyday customer with issue's. And they do have issues. One only has to read this blog, full of anecdotal experiences, to see what those of us on the front line put up with everyday.
Yes, we have delightful customers! Interesting women and men that enrich our day with smiles and charm, whose transactions are flawless examples of good service. We have regular visitors, of sane mind and body, who never spit and don't freak us out. Good service very rarely gets acknowledgement and that is a huge problem.Where is the programme about that? Where are the letters complimenting us?   If the public got into the habit of complimenting a good service, then perhaps abrasive customers would not affect us quite so much.

 Maybe, Mary should focus on customer attitude in her series. Perhaps, we should secretly film bad customers. How would exposing the extreme behaviour of individual shoppers change peoples attitude toward staff in the retail and service industries?  When a customer can write a letter or complain, when in actual fact they are the problem , how do staff defend themselves?
Nothing, on any of the training courses I have been on, could have taught me how to deal with the woman who screamed and shouted about not being able to get a refund for something that she had used up completely, then decided to return.

Lesson one to any  customers reading this; we are not qualified mental health nurses.

I'm gonna get me a new hat!

Exciting news, the 'Overseer' is re-considering the hours at the Hall of Plenty. Despite being open for hours, customers simply don't come in at certain times. Apart from those really awkward people who, no matter what time you are open till, freak out at five minutes before closing and say,
'You're not closing right now are you?'
But we won't indulge ourselves in the negative today because we might, I say might, close for the Royal Wedding.
I was always fond of Prince William!
Here's hoping Saint Diana of Windsor is smiling down on us and I get to see the frock before the Tiny Hands get bored by my middle-aged show of  Royal-ism.
Most exciting of all, Miss Pankhurst will soon throw off the chains of feminist liberation and march into a partnership of equal rights and eternal happiness with the Fiancee.We will be there to witness the taming and will definitely shed a tear or two.
With babies, weddings and the odd hormonal moment, life amongst the cosmetic counters
is a beautiful thing.
I'm off to buy a new hat.

A very pertinent question.

Thank god the snow has gone!
Two children, six individual wellies, all the extra washing, the digging out of the car....... it was endless After three days of joy, the children sulked in their bedrooms complaining about having nothing to do because of the snow. Well it's gone now and is anything any different? No, it is not.
Next year they will receive a picture each, of disadvantaged children enjoying the Tiny Hands Christmas presents, in a lovely frame. That should teach them not to sulk in centrally heated bedrooms surrounded by tat.

And what has this to do with Cosmetics and the Hall of Plenty? Well, every year I get a holiday after the money flinging season. This year I decided to menace the washing pile and terrorise my dusty crevices. (Ooh - er madam!) Whilst doing so, I listened to lots of people on the radio and TV telling me that retail did better than predicted, with many companies making a bigger profit than expected.

Hmm!

My very pertinent question is......
If everything went up before Christmas, yet people still spent on luxury items and the companies still made a profit, why have the cosmetics companies frozen the consultants pay?

If  those of us who actually put the money in the till, stand up for eight hours at a time and deal with the public cannot keep our wages in line with inflation, where is our incentive to sell?

Is it my imagination or are we, the highly trained, well groomed representatives of  historic brands in cosmetics, being taken for granted? It is hard work learning  benefits and selling techniques. It's not easy  to apply make up to a customer with a face like a Brillo pad, whilst still inspiring her and making it a pleasant experience. Some of us are not trained to put large numbers into tiny boxes and fax it to people in offices, but we do it.
Listening to stupid questions  like, 'Why haven't you sold enough ?' They are not in the job description. But we soon learn to flatter the ego's of those who's job it is to ask, especially whilst standing in a deserted shopping hall with twelve inches of snow outside.

You know, if we are the people who make the sale, take the money and stick it in the till, then it is really not us that should take the hit. Maybe somebody else with a petrol allowance would be the place to start!!!!

Just a thought.

''No Returns, no need to buy.'' An Ode to the misguided customer.

No, no, no, you cannot bring that back,
You've used the thing, smashed the lid,
The cellophane's unwrapped.

Perhaps you misunderstand me,  I really cannot help,
With no receipt, you're knackered mate,
Stop shouting, it's a fact.

Now, here's the thing you're missing,
from our point of view,
manners, several brain cells and a jolly good slap or two.

It's not that we don't like you,
You have no proof of purchase.
So what's a girl to do ?

Don't be bloody ungrateful,
appreciate the gesture and,
So what if you have two?


It doesn't matter how much, Auntie Vera spent,
because I'll tell her next year,
just where her present went.

Back and forth across the till,
returned
and then refused.

You don't get off that lightly, being quite so vain.
You can't live without that mascara?
Madam, you know nothing real of pain !

Now bugger off, don't waste my time,
There's targets to be made.
Retail involves selling, not a service, it's a trade!

Happy New Year!!!

New Year has arrived, hurrah!
 In the spirit of renewal and consideration of the year past, I have decided to re-post my favourite blog from 2010, Lamb Chops. Strangely enough, New Years Eve brought a rush of  mutton based make overs at the make up counters.Shoring up a face lift that resembled Laura Ashley swags made me think of this and I would like to share my best of 2010 with you, Happy New Year and may 2011 be a prosperous one to you all XX


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 on the North Face.
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.

In a corner of the Hall of Plenty

All in all, Christmas on our side of the shop floor was quite tranquil. Well, apart from those customers that crush your enthusiasm for life in general.
'What's in the box?' is a phrase that now drives Miss Marple over the edge, after a ten minute encounter with a lady from Singapore who assumed the empty display box was a prize for shopping with us.
'Do you do any deals?' is possibly likely to fetch you a mental slap, in the form of twisted lips and a slightly raised eyebrow from Miss White.
And, if 'She who Must be Obeyed' comes thundering toward you , nostrils flared, abandon any hope of asking for samples, otherwise, quite a pleasant run up to Christmas.
Not so across the floor, where some of the more flamboyant characters dwell. Apparently the day before Christmas Eve saw battle lines drawn over a great mystery, a customer had phoned to order some products and was not best pleased with the manners of the person at the end of the telephone, so she asked for the consultants name. Calling back, with a strongly worded complaint to one of the overwrought Minions of the Overseer, the customer insisted on satisfaction.
Now here comes the mystery, the consultant who was supposed to have answered the phone was actually some distance away, on her island of box sets rallying the Christmas temps, when the order was taken. So vigorously defending herself against the accusation, she left the Minions baffled. If it was not her on Angel Island, then who could it be?
An hour, one distraught temp, a tearful Minion and lots of misdirection later, the finger of doom was pointed at the feisty figure of one consultant. We shall call her Mussolini. Yes, short, manly, lots to say for herself but can't decide which side she's on, was eventually hung out to dry from a metaphorical lamppost, when the Minions finally worked it out.
Who knows what the consequences of breaking the Consultants Code are, but New Year promises to be interesting.

Merry Xmas to you all!

It's finally Christmas Eve and this week has seen Miss Pankhurst retire from the fray with swine flu, the ''Tiny Hands'' trade fisticuffs over whether Father Christmas actually exists or not and profit in the face of recession.
I can gladly say to all the cosmetics consultants out there, well done!
We did it!
We made it to the one important day of the year, the last  sacred day left in the retail calendar that shopping is not allowed.
Merry Christmas and a Happy Sale season to you all.
Enjoy your day off.
XXXXXXX
The Mole.

Santa and the Socially Challenged.

If you cannot pass people in a crowded shop, without, huffing. Shoving past. Performing, the emotionally crippled two step (see previous posts) or grinding your teeth.
Then, you, are Socially Challenged.
If you cannot wait to be served for more than 30 seconds without tapping your fingers, shoving yourself in between a customer and a consultant who are already interacting at this point, or interrupting a sale by saying,
'Err excuse me, yes, yes! I just wanted to know...'
Then, you, are Socially Challenged.
If you cannot acknowledge a consultant who asks you, nicely, if you need anything or you stick your hand up in their face and snap NO!
Then apart from being Socially Challenged, you need a good punching.
If you are crippled by your ego and find it hard to get past consultants that are opening drawers without tutting loudly.
Then most assuredly, you are Socially Challenged.
So now you know what you need for Christmas.
A big bag of life skills and some emotional maturity. Happy Holidays!

Ho! Ho! HO!

You know when customers talk too much they have something to hide. Certain sentences make your arse twitch like a flute players lip and you just know they are trouble.
'I'm not a shop lifter you know.'
'I didn't steal it, so why do I need a receipt?' Are two of my favourite light bulb statements. This week we heard a cracker to top those,
'You must remember me. Everyone remembers me.'
Well, my darling loud punter, we remember Princess Diana, but that is not proof of purchase is it!
Three weeks ago Miss Pankhurst got a '' Ohh I'm so wacky, I bet you have never had a customer as fun as me'' type customer. Wanted product , got product but wished to pay for it else where, yet still wanted Miss Pankhurst to wrap it. So she wraps it. The customer then went to the store restaurant, got drunk and forgot to pick up her stuff.
Three weeks later we get a ''You must remember me,'' phone call, where she kicks off about the fact that we forgot to put her products in her bag.
Well, we did remember her, but just for the record and for all of you Consultants out there, we gave her the run around of a lifetime, for a good twenty minutes.
Joy and festive cheer-a-roony!!
We couldn't find her stuff ! She had to fax over her receipt to prove she had bought it. We couldn't just defy security procedures could we? After her constant waffle, a lot of whingeing and more,
 ''But, but everyone remembers me, so why can't you send it?''
We finally, got Miss Pankhurst to phone her back so she could defend herself against the scurrilous rumour of inadequacy.
Slow torture for someone who really likes themselves and lies a lot. If only we had speaker phone. So after admitting she had lied to the first person who dealt with the query, she then fessed up to getting drunk and forgetting. By the time Miss Pankhurst relented and condescended to send it out free of charge, as a gesture of our goodwill, we like to think we had thoroughly shredded her ego. I doubt it , but we can dream.
Ho HO HO!!!!
Our big book has a black mark by that customers name.

In a Festive Mood?

 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!

Awkward!

I've known some awkward moments, a boyfriends mother once handed me a pair of knickers over a crowded Sunday lunch table, 'Oh, you left these,' she said in a smug effort to rid her son of me.
'Actually, those are not mine,' I answered and carried on passing veg to her guilt riddled son.
That was awkward  (and a long time ago I hasten to add) but of late, I have noticed a crippling sense of awkwardness every time I need to get in a lift. Not amongst Cosmetics staff , for us even lifts are a place to create a drama, but the staff from other floors are the most angry looking, ignorant, awkward people one could ever wish not to meet.
If you have your hands full and ask them to push a button, they ignore you. If you are in the lift and try to get out, they just push past you to get in. And worst of all, if they are in the lift and you ask them to 'Hold the doors,' they simply watch you running toward it.
Yesterday however, I managed to reach the doors to a very full lift and in a fit of insanity, stuck my hands on either side of the very nearly shut doors. Doing a very good impression of Alien, I pushed the doors apart and marched into the centre of the lift staring at the opened mouthed fashion staff.
Four floors later, since I had not turned round and refused to look away from any of them, I left them cowering in the corners.
Awkward ? Yes. Could I back down without looking like a complete tosser ??? No. Did I enjoy it? Yes, I bloody well did and I got straight to the front of the cash office queue. Next week, I think I will push every button and fart loudly!