The Secret Behind The Smiles.

I'm In Trouble.

The last several days I have been battling a deep, deep depression. It's gotten so that I would rather jump off a cliff than go in to work most days. It takes every bit of energy I can muster just to force myself to smile for our guests, and sometimes I don't succeed. I'm uncertain what to do next.

Monkey See, Monkey Do.

I'm probably one of the few people who have actually read the biography on the founder of "Big Blue" from cover to cover. For years his book was crammed by the boat load onto his store's shelves, but I have met very few people who bought it, much less read it. Not one to waste money, I borrowed a copy from the public library and read it.

One of personal characteristics of "Big Blue's" founder was to steal ideas from the competition. It seems the rip-off culture persists at his company even after his death. Case in point: this evening I was online going over the weekly sales circular for "Big Red" (my employer) to prepare for the week. Often I'll go look at the website for "Big Blue," just to see what they've got going on, also.

What cracks me up is that the layout, feel, and presentation of the "Big Blue" circular online is almost exactly the same as my employer's (Big Red.) It even uses the same type of web application for dynamic content, and the pages operate in the same exact way. What amazes me is how people have hailed Big Blue over the years for being "inovative" in the retail industry, when really all they do is copy anything that works well for their competition. They changed their uniforms to match ours, they have similar management structures in their stores, they carry mostly the same items, and they announced a shift to upscale marketing at about the same time we did.

About the only thing Big Blue is "innovative" in is ripping off everyone else's innovations.

Interesting Trend.

In an earlier post I ranted about pathetic loosers tied to their video games. Media pundits are wondering whether or not the fake guitar game "Guitar Hero" is inspiring kids to fake their way through life. I could have told them that already.

Read the article here. [link]

Dead - O - Rama

We had some freezing rain roll into town this evening, so around 8 o'clock or so business just died, and I mean died on the vine. Between 8 and 11 we never had more than two or three guests in the store at any given time. As a result, we all finished our zoning out on the sales floor, and they let us leave early.

As usual, while zoning this evening. I found several cartons of unopened freight that "Mz. Waffleboot's" people stuffed away into the back recesses of the shelves, just to avoid working them. Mz. Waffleboot is always expressing the opinion that the evening sales floor people are lazy, stupid bastards, when the truth is that her own people on the overnights are retarded troglodites. Being the good guy that I am I opened the cases and worked out the freight without a word.

Right now I'm trying to figure out what to do next with my life. I'm stuck at home during the day watching our kids while my wife is finishing chef school. My job in the evenings is the only employment income we have. I would love to be able to finish school, too, but I just don't know how.

I Survived Black Friday.

Figures were much, much better than expected this year, but still not as much as last year. They had a lot of good deals going on, which I would love to have bought some myself, but since I work in retail, guess how much spare money I have floating around.

I asked Rupert how things were with Angel Blue Eyes, "Miss K."

"They're stormy gray, lately. She's been under a lot of stress and has a lot on her mind," said Rupert. I had seen her earlier in the evening yesterday, and yes, they were a stormy gray. She was very busy directing the merchandising setups and ad-sign set ups. Rupert has a thing for mood eyes, and he loves it when "Miss K" goes through changes of color with hers.

I met with my retail buddies, Fred and Cedric, from "Big Blue" and "Big Yellow" respectively. One of the things we talked about was how our managers are always leaving planograms and marketing paperwork lying around the store, for anyone to pick up and take to the competition if they wanted. One of these days some company is going to see some of their campaign work in the hands of a competitor, if their managers don't wise up and watch it.

S. S. D. D. 24/7

"Do you have any Wii's yet?"
"No."
"Do you know when you'll get some?"
"No."
"Do you have any Wii's yet?"
"No."
"Do you know when you'll get some?"
"No."
"Do you have any Wii's yet?"
"No."
"Do you know when you'll get some?"
"No."
"Do you have any Wii's yet?"
"No."
"Do you know when you'll get some?"
"No."
"Do you have any Wii's yet?"
"No."
"Do you know when you'll get some?"
"No."

....And Another Thing!

In the previous post I ranted how I despise pathetic losers who get upset at me because my employer can't stock enough Nintendo Wii's.

Here's something else I have to say to those losers:

• Imagine having a Christmas without a loved one who was killed in battle.
  
• Imagine a Christmas without the ability to walk, see, or breathe on your own.
  
• Imagine a Christmas full of blinding pain from an inoperable malignant cancer.
  
• Imagine Christmas sleeping in a box beside a freeway overpass.
  
• Imagine a Christmas where you're so senile you can't remember your name.
  
• Imagine a christmas where you're three and your drug addict parent is comatose on the couch and there is no food anywhere in the apartment.

All of a sudden, the lack of a video game doesn't seem so bad, now does it?

I've Got Swampland In Florida To Sell You.

Spokespersons for Nintendo have said that demand for the Wii console has outstripped supply, and that they are doing everything they can to produce more. The thing is, they've been saying that for over a year now.

Here's what I think of all that: Bull #$%&!

I can understand shortages for a few months at first, but for an entire year or more? I'm no expert in manufacturing and logistics, but we're talking about the great and mighty NINTENDO, a company from a world region where consumer electronics are so outrageously mass-produced by sweat shop labor they overflow the world markets. Mp3 players are selling for $20 at Wal-Green's, yet the mighty jugernaut NINTENDO can't manage to contract enough cheap production labor to meet demand for the Wii? I hardly think so. Baloney.

Here's a blogger who says the same thing. [link]

Every day I have to deal with absolutely PATHETIC people who come begging me for a Wii, and get irritated with me when I tell them we are out. I depise these people. Let me repeat that. I despise pathetic loosers who are so tied up with getting a Wii that life isn't worth living for them.

I depise them and their credit cards and their Astin-Martins and Escalades and their Botox lips, coming into my store with their overflowing shopping carts ordering me pull a Wii from out of my arse just because they demand one. I depise their addiction to a product -- a thing, an inanimate object. I despise the pathetic geeks who waste their lives away in front of video games while they loose relationships with the people in their lives and they get fat from lack of exercise.

I despise them all, and I hope they all remain miserable with their materialistic addiction to an artificially scarce product. I hope the Wii shortage continues for as long as NINTENDO can manage to milk it and keep it going.

Rock And A Hard Place.

I'm sort of caught between two paths. On the one hand, they don't pay me enough to make it worth my while to become thoroughly knowledgeable about consumer entertainment products. On the other hand, I face an endless stream of people coming to my department begging for help with things that I really haven't the foggiest notion about (video games and digital cameras for instance.) People beg me for tech support on their cameras, and I have to tell them I'm only a cashier.

I have a buddy who possesses a zillion technical certifications, and he gets paid like a middle-eastern oil potentate. What bothers me is that the company expects me to know things like my buddy does, but they don't want to pay me like him. I believe in the free enterprise system, but I don't believe in working for free. Homey don't play dat.

I've been reading up a little bit on the subjects my customers need help with, and it has made a world of difference in my ability to make them happy, but I'm wondering whether or not I really should continue. I'm tired of being taken advantage of by the company.

Love's Labours Lost.

My buddy Rupert is somewhat despondent.

He hasn't seen "Miss K" in a couple of days.

He tells me that things just aren't the same when she's not there, gliding across the floor with her usual graceful divinity. She is his light, his inspiration, his muse. In short, she is one of the very few things keep him coming back to work each day. When she's not there, he wonders where there's hope.

I told Rupert that he's hopeless, alright.

One of these days I'm going to give him a big gold trophy for his dramatics.

Tape Recorder, Part Two.

"Do you have any Wii's yet?"

"No."

"Are you going to get any more?"

"I don't know, they haven't told us.."

"When do they usually come?"

"I don't know, they never tell us."

"Do you have any Wii's yet?"

"No."

"Are you going to get any more?"

"I don't know, they haven't told us.."

"When do they usually come?"

"I don't know, they never tell us."

"Do you have any Wii's yet?"

"No."

"Are you going to get any more?"

"I don't know, they haven't told us.."

"When do they usually come?"

"I don't know, they never tell us."

"Here's Your Sign..."

As this picture indicates, that's basically what I did this morning. All day long I was doing one stupid thing after another. It was frustrating and very embarrassing.

Case in point: the L.O.D. for the day came to my register at the end of her shift, wanting to buy an item. Like a numb-nut I totally ring it wrong, the register freezes, and so I have to complete the sale a second time to get it right. The charge went onto her card twice, so she had to go to Guest Services to get it fixed, because I had several people to help and I wasn't familiar with the "fast-fix" process you can use at the register.

Later in the day, I call for someone in the back room to bring out a TV set that a guest was waiting to purchase. I could have sworn I had seen on my P.D.A. that we had some back there. So I call for a back room person, and none are available at the moment because of lunches. I call several times, and then I drag the L.O.D. out of her office so she can scan-out the item for me (I know how to do it, but as mentioned in previous posts, I'm not allowed to.)

The L.O.D. gets all the way back to where I'm at, looks at my P.D.A., and then points out that it shows there are none in back-stock. I stare at the screen, dumbfounded. Damn. Somebody just hit me with a stupid stick. Again, I felt like a total doofus, and I felt completely embarrassed.

Next, a guest came up to purchase some video games we had on hold for them. I looked all over the camera boat, and couldn't find them. So I went to retrieve some more, with the guest waiting impatiently. After the sale is completed and the guest is gone, I open up the one drawer I hadn't checked, and you guessed it. The guest's games are in there. Damn, again.

I'm still going to make snide remarks about other people's stupidity, of course, because with some of these people it's intentional. Some days, however, I have to hit myself to start thinking straight.

This-N-That (#8)

"FOUR AND TWENTY BLACKBIRDS, BAKED IN A PIE..."

Well folks, I guess it's time to 'fess up and make clean. It's time for me to eat some crow. Earlier I had ranted about stupid people -- tonight I really pulled a "Homer" (d'oh!) A guest was looking for a certain CD featured with the new releases in our ad this week. Both of us looked all over the department for it, but couldn't find it. The PDA network was down, so I couldn't do an online item search.

She wanted a rain check, but since I couldn't find a number for it, I had to send her to the Guest Service desk to get one. Guest Service radio-ed back that they didn't have the numbers either, and asked me to look again. I didn't find it then, either. The L.O.D. came back, found it, and took it from the shelf right in front of where I was standing. I felt like such a complete idiot! Especially after I had made the poor guest trudge all the way up to the Service desk for a rain check.

STUPIDITY LOVES COMPANY

Earlier I ranted about the Flow Team leaving stuff out on the floor when they go home. "M," one of the team leaders was helping me zone toys this evening. He found all sorts of things that were either over-stocked, in the wrong spot, or was unopened freight stuffed into the back of the shelves. He had a few choice words to say about it. "B," one of my coworkers, told me a little bit later on that he used to work on the Flow Team, and he says they really are that stupid. I had meant my earlier remarks about parolees and rehab drop-outs as a joke, but "B" tells me that my estimation isn't too far from the truth.

"THE LADY WILL HAVE THE SPECIAL, AND I'LL HAVE THE DOOFUS....I MEAN, DINNER COCKTAIL."

I checked in on my buddy "Rupert," the love-lorn puppy dog. It seems he had the chance to sit and converse with "Miss K" during their lunch.

"Please tell me you didn't make a fool of yourself," I asked.

"Quite the contrary," said Rupert. "I tried to be as polite as I could. I tell you, it was a miracle -- it's the first time I've been in her presence for awhile without stammering like a total doofus. I was actually able to form complete sentences."

Rupert told me he was happy. That's all that he wanted really, just the chance to talk with her. He doesn't need anything else beyond that. He just wanted her company. Hopefully in the future he'll have more opportunity, he said.

You Know, That OTHER Guy....

One of the new girls was filling in for the operator just briefly yesterday. She got on the radio and asked "does anyone know if there is a [so-and-so] working here?" She mentioned a name that no one heard of.

Feeling saucy, I answered over the radio "yeah... he's uh... he's hangin' with my buddy Maynard." (This is a throwback to an old, old, Malto-Meal commercial from the 1980's)

Oblivious to my shenanigans, the girl radioed "well, can you tell him that there's a call for him on extension 2280?" I hadn't expected her to take me seriously. After a minute I told her I was only kidding. She was pretty irritated.

The "imaginary friend" routine is always a good one to play. I pulled it off on a substitute teacher in Junior High once. It's always good for a laugh.

Thanksgiving.

MY MAMA ALWAYS TOLD ME.....

In an earlier post I mentioned Ron White's famous phrase "you can't fix stupid." I ranted about the stupid people I sometimes have to deal with.

There is another side to the coin, however. Stupid people have their uses, especially if they are co-workers. It occurred to me a couple of years ago, at another job. Rather than get uptight over stupid co-workers slowing me down, I should be glad that they keep management busy with their stupidity, thereby drawing attention away from any of my own faults. Since then, I have successfully used them as camouflage.

Whenever management pours heat onto me about small stuff that doesn't amount to diddly, I do everything I can to subtly but continuously draw attention to what my less enlightened colleagues are doing. Where I work, there definitely isn't any shortage of that, for sure. For that reason, I actually give thanks sometimes for stupid people.

Last night was a textbook case. We had some new guy that softlines palmed off onto us. He was assigned to work toys, across from electronics where I'm at. All night he wandered around the section and basically did nothing. The team leader came to me asked what this guy's deal was. I told him I didn't know, but helping him get his zone done was going to cut into time I needed for my own zone.

CHINESE DEATH-TOYS.

Right now "Aqua-Dots" are all over the news. They contain ingredients that can metabolize into Gamma Hydroxybuterate, the date rape drug, if they are swallowed. Several kids in America and Australia have either died or lapsed into unresponsive comas from having swallowed some. There has been a massive recall, and at our store we have removed them from the shelves.

Last night a guest came to me and showed me that some of them were still out on the shelf. It seems that some of "Mz Waffleboot's" people had re-stocked a new shipment of them that day. "Mz Waffleboot" continuously makes snide remarks about us hardlines people being stupid. At the very least, we're not so stupid as to restock death-toys after they've been recalled and they are all over the news. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Using the strategy I mentioned above, I'm going to have a field day over that one.

Another One For Freud, Jung, and Adler.

You know that you're really wrapped up in your job when you start having bizarre dreams about it. This evening was no exception. I woke up a little while ago, after having seen this mysterious dream.

I dreamed I walked up the steps of a cathedral, and it had the title "St. Lazarus" above the door. The sexton stood outside and asked me why I was there. He was an older man, with a crippled leg and a cane. He had a name tag with "Lee Goba" written on it. I asked him if I could come inside and meditate for a while. He gave a big, hearty laugh and opened the huge wooden door for me.

As I walked inside I noticed a statue to Saint Barbara in one of the alcoves off to the side. Bright light shone upon it, and as I approached the statue it transformed into St. Barbara herself. Glory shone all about me.

The woman in my vision asked what troubled me so, and I spoke all about recent troubles and frustrations with my job. She told me to lean forward and listen to her give me the grand key-word for the solution to my troubles. She whispered the word "Shango" in my ear, then everything around me disappeared.

I found myself standing in the middle of the electronics department at the store, by the counter. All sorts of wild looking people dressed in company shirts were coming at me with weapons of every kind.

I spoke the word "Shango."

Instantly the whole building shook to the foundation, and a huge bolt of lightning struck the floor right in front of me. The force of the storm knocked me backwards. When I got up, all the crazy people were gone. Red and white rose petals started to float down and settle around me. As I could smell their scent, a wave of peace poured over me.

Interesting, huh?

"Ease His Pain," (#2)

In an earlier post I mentioned how I had gotten the indication through spiritual inspiration that it was time to leave "Big Red."

(http://monkeybusiness1265.blogspot.com/2007/08/go-distance.html)

Lately that inspiration has been coming to me again, in quiet moments, and it just washes over me with a profound feeling of peace, telling me "It is time. You know what needs to be done." As much as I really dislike job-hopping (because I've done so much of it over the years), I sense that now is a circumstance where it may be justified.

The problem is that I have nowhere to go, and I have no idea where to look for a replacement position.

Scum Rises To The Top.

My buddy Fred, who works over at "Big Blue," turned me on to a wickedly hilarious website called "WallMart Sucks Dot Org." Let me share with you a recent article from their blog, illustrating just how absolutely pathetic most sniveling retail managers can be:

http://walmartsucksorg.blogspot.com/2007/11/looking-for-lawyer-to-sue-wal-mart-10.html

You know the old phrase "read it, and weep." After reading some of the entries on that blog, it's hard NOT to weep, with laughter.

Eureka.

One of the side benefits of having an intense personality like mine is the ability to tap my intuitive side while still keeping step with my cranky, linear working methods. Sometimes the effect is so startling when it happens, it can be a literal "eureka!" kind of moment.

After stewing in a hard boil the last couple of days over "Mz. Waffelboot's" public demand that I stay out of her backroom, a solution to the problem presented itself to my forethoughts this evening, as it bubbled up from the depths of my fiendish motivations.

From now on, I will give "Mz. Waffleboot" exactly what she wants. I will make every excuse I can to never even go near "her" backroom. When a guest needs me to retrieve an item from the back for them, and a backroom person isn't immediately available just inside the door, I will give three calls on the walkie, and ONLY three calls, spaced 60 seconds apart.

If I do not receive assistance after that, I will tell our guest that nobody is available in the backroom, and I can't get them what they want. The guest will then ask me why I can't go get it myself, and I will tell them exactly the reason why: the company will not allow me back there, I cannot help them. I will bid them good day and go about my work.

If the company looses a sale because of their slavish devotion to bureaucracy, so be it.