Attitude adjustment!

Whoa! Sometimes even I do not know what blokes see in the painted jades, that drag them from shop to shop acquiring more frivolity to drape themselves in.
Today for example, I met the most pussy whipped man on the planet.

'Roger Shut Up! Now I want this lip gloss replacing with one of the same colour!!!'
'Sorry madam we can only find you something close, because we don't make that anymore.'
'But that is too dark. No! I want ....'
'Darling, she did say they don't make that....'
'Roger ... I said be quiet.'
EMBARRASSED SILENCE
'Madam, this is as close as you are getting.'
'Yes, yes I have been through this before...'
'Here dear this is very close.'
'Give me that!' SNATCHES LIP GLOSS FROM HUSBAND 'It's not the same.'
'I know madam I told you we don't make that anymore.'
'Huh! For goodness sake...'
CONSULTANT (ME)  PUTS BACK ALL MAKE UP AND WALKS AWAY
'Err I'll take it!'
STOPS WALKING, RAISES EYEBROW FOR MAGIC WORD.
'I'll take this.'
'Fine. If you would just follow me...'
'Roger move...Just put it in a bag!'
'I'm sorry?'
'Put it in a bag.'
'I'm sorry?'
'I said put it in a bag...'
LONG SILENCE.
'.........please......'

All I can say is she better bloody well give good head with an attitude like that, because if I was Roger, I would hold a pillow over her face still she stopped bucking, then get the first flight out of the country and spend my pension on prostitutes!!!!!!

A meeting of frivolous minds.....

'Hello do you need a handy wipe madam?'
'Oh yes please, I was just looking to replace this lipstick with something a bit lighter.'
'How about this one?'
'Yes, that's really nice, but you know the texture is a bit.......vaseline...y.'
'Mmm well madam, that is the finest Shea butter we can provide to lock in hydration.'
'Very nice, still a bit greasy though.'
'Yeah I know , not everyone likes the texture.'
'Mmm how about these they are a bit more matt.'
'Yep.'
'By the way, what is a Shea?'
'You know what, I'm not exactly sure.....but whatever it is, we milked it and turned it into butter just for you madam.'
'Ha! Well, that's marvellous. I think I'll have one of those thanks. I don't suppose you can tell me why they are so expensive these days, I mean it is only lipstick...'
'Oh madam, these are wrapped in the sweat from a fairy's wings.....'
'Well in that case, I better have two.'


Other customers to take note!!! There is nothing wrong in having a sense of humour.

Normal Transmission Resumed.

Sorry there hasn't been much of a posting frenzy of late, but with all the changes to Blogger and the kids  S.T.A.T.S ( Very traumatic time for parents, one needs a translation into real speak of the reports that appear telling you in binary code how your child is progressing through the school system. I believe that is where my children go, I mean they could be working for MI5 for all I know.(( I wouldn't let them work for MI6, neither of them have a penchant for the inside of a sports bag.))
So anyway, just a note to let you know normal transmission will be resumed a.s.a.p.

MOLE x

Doing the Double-Dip.

Right, it is official. Mole's Economic Barometer reads 'Double Dip.'

Just a few indicators that the retail front is as fit as an arthritic limbo dancer;

1)When ten percent day rolls around , we practically have to send out a taxis to fetch customers to the store.

                                                                            &

2) When you ask if a customer would like the lip-liner that matches the lipstick they are buying, they shoo you to the till in reply.

Otherwise we are still shifting lipstick by the bucket load.  ( Little known fact, we sell more lipstick in times of recession)

There we go, complete fiscal break down of the high-street, via your friendly local tut pushers. Hoping for our own programme on BBC 2, which we would illustrate said phenomenon via pie charts coloured in with eye shadow .

Yes, we bloody know it's sunny.......

Yes, thank you, we know it is sunny outside.
We can tell.
 Do you know how?
Because , you are wearing a maxi dress and sandals. Now take a good look at every consultant in the store and once you have got past the smacked arse faces that we are displaying, notice the tightly gripped jaw lines as we slam your purchases into our Luxury paper bags. We are more than aware of the weather outside, but we are also sweating our balls off in tights, mixed fabric skirts, jackets, t-shirts and maybe the odd woolly top.
Please excuse us, if we are bitter, but the closest any of us are going to get to a tan is San Tropez and fifteen minutes in a park over our sandwiches with a couple of drunks on a park bench nearby to add to the atmosphere.

Hurrah!

''Eyebrow Gate''

You don't half hear some things over a gluten free egg sandwich and dishwater tea from the machine in the canteen.
Apparently, I say this because I was not there to witness 'Eyebrow Gate', one of the counters that offers a quick sadistic touch up to your brows had a nasty experience this weekend. A customer had her eyebrows waxed then freaked out completely, threatening to sue because her eyebrows were wrong. Now the poor girl that had waxed them explained that they were as the client had asked for them to be and that they were certainly not too thin, but after ten minutes of being screamed at she burst into tears. The manager who had to deal with it, also got shouted at and had to placate the woman with a gift card of indeterminate value.

Unfortunately a customer who had witnessed the whole affair, then told the manager that she had just seen the same woman doing exactly the same thing in another store two hours earlier.

Wow! Go on Mary Portas get stuck into that one.

Call me old fashioned.....

I have a few 'life catch phrases',
'I don't mean to be rude...' (Clearly about to say something painful.)
'In my opinion...' (Because I, like everyone else, am entitled to one whether anyone likes it or not.)
'Call me old fashioned but....' ( I'm not!)
'To be absolutely honest....' (My code for, 'you brought this on yourself.')

And what relevance does this have to anything? Good question, today a bloke came to the counter with his wife and kept repeating the phrase,
'You know what I hate about....'
Make up, fragrance, bottles, just about everything until he said, 'Sales staff, or ''consultants'' ' (Using the finger gesture) So I said,
'No sir, enlighten me.'
And he said,
'They are such a bunch know-it-all's. I mean, all I want when I buy something, is to know what is in it, what it does and where to put it. That's all.'

His wife and I were truly enlightened.

My guilty secret....

I doubt none of these peoples credentials, it's just that, at one time or other I have secretly wished to kick all of them in the face. Sorry X

Wasting time....

Honestly, we are not care in the community you know!

The amount of people that mess us about, talk crap, or just utterly waste our time, beggars belief. If you get one person who says, 'Oh, I have got one of your lipstick's' you get ten.
Bloody hell! We don't breed them like puppies you know. We really do not care how that lipstick is getting on with you and your family, how many times you have taken it out and how it behaved at your cousins wedding........WE WANT YOU TO GET ANOTHER ONE.

                                                          WHY?

                                      Because we work in shop, Shop, SHOP, GET IT!

This is not the museum of make up, we are not here to stand about displaying things like a magicians assistant waiting for fat guy in a cummerbund to appear out of an overly large box. We are sales staff. The usual function of a shop is the opportunity for purchase, mostly involving our goods and your cash. Frankly, you could give me brass- bloody- buttons or magic beans, I really couldn't care less.
 We don't want to hear your story unless you happen to be clutching a lovely fifty pound note and then, believe me, I will dance like a monkey to whatever tune you should wish to hum.

It's been a hard day !

Age and beauty.

After a dismal afternoon where we barely noticed if the doors were open to the public, one of our colleagues decided to take drastic action.
Commence Operation - Badger the Customers at Home. Off she went with the phone book and with some minor success sold a few bits to post out. Then she called Betty who turned out to be 86, nevertheless this lady wanted certain items supplied. It was a lovely conversation until it came time to pay and then the vagaries of age became a problem. Bless Betty, she couldn't read her credit card because her eyes were bad but her husband, who could read it, couldn't speak because he had lost his teeth.
They eventually managed and Betty can expect to smell wonderful sometime soon; in her own words,

'It's the only bloody sense we both have left love..'

We love you Betty X

A Curiously Misheard Moment.....

It's been a while, so one must forgive me as we have been busy breaking She Who Must be Obeyed, almost cutting off a fingernail in a leg shaving disaster and wearing out Miss Marple. Add to that two colds, one pair of split trousers , some sick children, three paramedics on bikes, gas 'n air, morphine, one very strangely strung out temp and there is  January, right there in a great big whacked out nutshell!

After the excruciating effort of re-cordinating the entire counter we had a much needed chuckle this week. Miss Marple had what she though, was a pretty easy request to match a lady up with a foundation colour. As ever she found the perfect shade and said,

'Okay, so you are forty beige madam.'
'I'm what?'
'Forty beige.'
'What?'
'Forty beige madam.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes madam, you see it completely disappears into your neck, that's the best colour for you.'
'And that one is...?'
'Forty beige.'
'Really, that's it's actual name?'
'Yes, look here on the box.'
'Oh... Forty Beige!'
'Yes, madam forty beige.'
' I thought you were saying Foreskin.'
'!......?!?'

Merry Christmas X

Well that was fun!
Merry Christmas to all of us in retail slavery, may your feet recover quickly and let us hope we don't get too many returns for the New Year.
Constantly repeating the phrase,
'No, I'm afraid we can't accept that back without a receipt,' is really code for, 'I don't give a shit if you don't like it, you should be grateful you got it.'

Remember, there are children who's idea of joy is finding a bit of plastic they can sell on a huge heap of our recycling.

Merry Christmas X

Ho, Ho, Ho.....

Oh my, did I have to laugh this morning.
Along with the snappy shoppers that frequent the early days of December, there is also the beginning of  Car parking Hell. This is when people who don't get out much decide to bring enormous saloon cars to the Hall of Plenty and arse around in the car park, causing any consultants that have not added a extra 45 minutes to their day to be late.
Apparently the corner space on the first level, which anybody with a car larger than a match box avoids, is just crying out for someone in a saloon Crappola to fanny about with until a queue forms and nobody can get through the barrier. The horns start tooting, the Crappola driver gets all pink and sweaty, then the wife starts nagging until they give up and shoot off, only to bump a 4x4 badly parked at the top of the next ramp.
Do they go straight to the top of the building ? No, they keep messing with spaces till someone bullies them to tears and they park badly in a Disabled bay.
Well, today in anticipation of the nightmare that is the car park, I set off early and got quite a show from a business woman in her sporty 'Smug Mobile' (Audi) and a Silver Fox in his giant 'Cock Cart' (some sort of gigantic BMW thingy) The Cock Cart was so massive it took a three point turn to get it up the ramps. With a very angry business woman hot on his heels in her natty Smug Mobile, he started to get a bit flustered by the fourth floor with no sign of a bay large enough to receive his mighty vehicle. Positively leaping up and down in her car, the woman wound down her window and started hurling abuse. I just had to listen, so off went the radio in time to catch,

'.....ucking arse wipe , shift that shit car now you tosser. I bet you have a tiny cock!!!'

I don't know if the Silver Fox was aware but he scraped his car up the next ramp and almost threw it a 45 degree angle into a Disabled space. She drove up behind him and waited till he got out before she screamed,

'You complete dick, if you can't drive it you shouldn't fucking own it....'

Still laughing!

Stop....think.

Just think for a minute.

Then stop;

Interrupting us when we are talking to other customers.

STICKING PERFUME BOTTLES UP YOUR NOSES!!

Complaining about stuff we don't make anymore.

Complaining about things we don't have in stock.

Complaining about having to wait for two minutes to get what you want.

Pulling your face when we can't wrap things with the speed and the dexterity of a Dutch National wrapping a joint in one hand.

Acting confused when you are about to pay and keep checking the items we picked up, showed you, repeated to you and explained to you.

Putting the wrong numbers into  the chip and pin machine.

Forgetting your cards and leaving them in the chip and pin machine.

Now think again.

See it's easy, there are other people in the world and we too have busy lives.

What is the problem......?

Oh, people please! Let's get a grip shall we, it's only shopping. There is no need to tut, sigh or roll your eyes in despair.
We are people too and I think we have earned the right to be treated with respect.
What is the saying? Treat others the way you want them to treat you....

If yesterday was anything to go by, you all want to be patronised, belittled, snapped at and ignored. Now I don't work as a Dominatrix but if it gets you through the day,  'She Who Must be Obeyed' can arrange for us to get hold of some Gimp Masks and we'll spank you senseless whilst you choose your lipstick if you want.

 

DO YOU WANT GIFT WRAPPING!!!! DO YOU???

The Cat Crap Chronicles Volume II - The Curtain Witch

You know when they say, 'truth is stranger than fiction'...........?

Last night was probably one of the weirdest experiences of my entire life. 'He Who Pays the Mortgage' was out and about, so the 'Tiny Hands' and I got on with dinner. Whilst they were rowing over exactly which of them should set the table, I heard a knock at the front door.  Boy child was duly sent to answer it. As there was no one there, we assumed kids were just messing about and sat down to dinner. With the chatter that comes with your average family meal I thought I heard the door go a couple of times but simply ignored it.

This may have been my downfall.


Clearing away we (I) decided that we should all get together in the living room, never mind all the electronic rubbish,  and do a jigsaw puzzle. Halfway through the death mask of Tutankhamen a knock came from the front door. I answered it. Nobody there.
'Strange,' I said.
'Probably the curse of Tutankhamen,' said Girl child in a brave attempt to wind up her brother.
As we settled down again a strange scuffling came from around the door area. Now this is when you regret filling your children's head's full of nonsense, because we all leapt onto the sofa and freaked out. I opened the curtains but couldn't see anything between my bay trees, the kids were standing on a two seater sofa screaming,
'What is it! We are going to die, Arggggggghhhhhh!!!!'

And then between the pots I saw black booted feet waggling about. Wrenching open the front door I discovered an old woman on her knees trying to shove something in a black plastic bin bag through the letter box.
I shouted , 'What are you doing ?'
From her knees the woman looked up and smiled and said, 'I have your curtains.'

Now, correct me if I'm wrong but there is a certain amount of sinister intent in that statement,which made me go,
'Arggghhhh!!!!'

The woman unfolded herself from my doorstep to nearly six foot tall, wearing a headscarf, glasses and a pinny. At that point the 'Tiny Hands ' looked round the door, screamed and scarpered upstairs, leaving me stood in the hallway with a gigantic, stick thin pensioner, waving a bin liner at me on my doorstep.
'You're all very excitable aren't you?' she said pleasantly.
Unable to reach for anything heavy I coward slightly and said, 'What the hell are you doing?'
'I've brought your curtains.' she replied.

 And then, I, for some unexplained, bizarre reason said, (And I shit you not!) 'I don't need curtains I watch Delia Smith!.................'
Resembling a Preying Mantis in a pinny, she looked down at me curiously and said,
'But you ordered them.'
'From who?' I yelled.
In the embarrassed silence we stared at each other, then at the binbag, then back at each other.
( Or in my mind, I stared at the woman who was going to take over my house and make us her slaves, with a pair of net curtains.)
With the sound of a million pennies crashing to earth she said,
'You're not 125 are you?'
'No! Sorry!' I shouted then slammed the door, running upstairs we all hid for ten minutes in Boy child's wardrobe until somebody said,
'You know this probably wouldn't have happened if you had let us use the X-box.'

Half an hour later and one minature whisky from last Christmas, I called my parents and related our hilairious story to my father who said,
'Oh yeah, that'll be the Curtain Witch.'

When 'He Who Pays the Mortagage' arrrived home we were still in the wardrobe.

A warm welcome back....

Yesterday saw the long awaited return of Sunday girl.
 Oh, what jolly fun we would have, catching up, comparing notes on motherhood, maybe sneak some cake onto the counter........
However after three hours we were both wondering just why she had returned, leaving behind the sturdy warm bodied baby that makes life worth living, to put up with the utter arseholes that peopled our Sunday trading.
We had a woman almost collapse on the counter with mystery stomach pains straight away, customers that kept telling us that we had to be quick because they needed to be somewhere. A horrid little man who saw his arse because his daughter had to wait, then interrupted me with a customer and said,
'Get me this!'
Lost the sick customer when her husband went to get Pepto-Bismal. Dealt with phone calls from the usual dimwits who ring up every Sunday to ask exactly the same questions. Found the sick customer in the disabled toilets. Defended ourselves in the face of the complaint made by Horrid Little Man, who went to another floor to complain that we forcefully shoved his daughter away from the lip glosses .
Like we actually had time to assault somebody over a makeup counter and I don't even know  when, 'Excuse me please, could I just get to those lipsticks...' has been the utter definition of 'forcefull shoving'.
With the complaints and returns from other counters, then constant demands and smacked-arsed-faces all round because we had products out of stock, I swear by five to five we were really considering our futures in retail with a jaundiced eye.

Welcome back!!!

Wigging out and other specialities.

What a confusing time for us in retail......

Either we are in a recession or we are not. What's all this ''double dip'' nonsense, why are companies on a plus if the economy is bobbing about like Anton Du Berke with an Italian Tart on his back?

Suddenly we have to cart people around the shop floor because, even though we have our own customers waiting, many are too stupid to follow clear instructions;
'The lifts are straight in front of you madam.'
'Where?'
'Just there...'
'Where?'
'Follow me.... (Shall I press the button for you madam? Maybe I should do your shopping for you as well, whilst you stand there looking vacant and confused by the overwhelming effort of SHOPPING!!!!!)

And now we have to be part of the security team as well???!!!
Sorry, like my job is not hard enough with women unable to make up their minds over which tangerine foundation they should pile on their face, idiots asking facile questions about their skin just to fill in twenty minutes of their day and grubby children sticking sweaty hands all over everything, now I have to hunt down shoplifter's and 'diffuse' the situation when some drug addled trollope wobbles up, with a bottle full of what looks like ethanol, grabs a bottle of perfume rams it up her nose, squirts herself in the minge, then starts rambling incoherently in a threatening manner.

No! It's not my job. If I wanted to be part of the 'Polyester Flying Squad' I would have joined a security firm. As it is the people who provide our security guards appear to be running a care in the community programme, three of them can't speak English, one is over sixty and one has a gammy leg. It's already like an episode of 'Allo, Allo' without us making citizens arrests in heels and ill fitting trouser's. I mean have you ever tried wrestling someone to the ground in a pussycat bow, false eyelashes and a pencil skirt?
Frankly, it would be like being mobbed by drag queens.

I don't believe it.......

It's that time of year again, New Uniform and all the trimmings. One would think that with the amount of money spent on the damn things that they could get it right.
In the past we have had skirts that were the wrong size, badly cut tops, suit jackets in the summer , thin cardigans for winter. Trousers that are too wide at the bottom , too tight around the crotch, buttons that fall off and zips that haven't been sewn in, but golly, even I was shocked when one of us received a pair of winter trousers with one leg a size 10 and the other a size 12........

Oh my.....

I speak to a lot of women in my line of work and some are nice, some have their own elusive charm, some are downright horrible. However there is a woman above all women, and I include the 'Twiddle Blink' in this, that grates upon my soul.
The Soprano of all women, the High Pitched Warbler....
Do you know why?
Because it's fake! Fake! Fake! Fake!
I am not an expert in linguistics or anything , but in my very unscientific way I tested this theory on several breathy bimbos by saying,
'No sorry can't hear you? Speak up , sorry you want what....?'
Until each and everyone one drops their voice and talks to me in a reasonable timbre, or just gives up the ghost and pisses off.

Like the camp sissy 's', it is an affectation of what a woman should be.
Stop it ladies!
We are not breathy, we are not squeaky, we were not born with a constricted larynx. Speak properly and stop squealing.... it is annoying!

And NO I don't like Joe Pasquale either!!!!