I know it's been a while, but you may recall that I've been working at My Very Own Fabric Store for about seven months now...Remember this?
Kate in Her Very Own Fabric Store, (MSN Paint) from "My Very Own Fabric Store," March 15, 2009
I really do still love working there, but you know how, sometimes, even though you really, really love something, you still just want to punch a hole in it? Well, today was sort of like that. Twice.
Okay, maybe the first one wasn't really punchworthy. A scathing "Well, at least I passed Charm School!" probably would have sufficed. But somehow -- and perhaps this is a sign that, having recently been thrust from my mid- into my late-50's, I am finally starting to grow up -- I was able to hold my tongue until that Big Stupid Ass-Head had left the store. (And I didn't even roll my eyes and say "Who took his cookie?" to the remaining customers in line!)
Wanna know what happened?
Oh, I knew you would!
It was an extremely busy Friday at MVOFS, but it was the kind of busy that I enjoy: Lots of customers, all with nice, easy transactions. You know -- where you're able to carry on a conversation, share a joke or two, smile, wish everyone a nice day and really mean it...the kind of day where time passes pleasantly, and all of a sudden it's time to go home. But not quite yet...
First, I noticed that my cash drawer was getting low on ones, and that I had no fives or tens, either. Then there was a spate of customers with cash. All at once I found myself asking people if they had anything smaller than a twenty, trying to keep from completely running out of small bills before someone could get to the bank. During one such transaction, I had to ask the customer to change her tender after I had rung up her sale; the amount of change that the computer told me to give her had to be re-figured. The line was getting longer and I became flustered, thinking (no -- knowing) that I was starting to look like an idiot. I had to resort to using a calculator to figure out how much change to give the customer and still have the cash drawer come out right at the end of the day.
That's when I heard the next customer in line sigh dramatically (translation: very loudly). I got even more flustered, and had to start over. Then that obnoxious little...Well, never mind what he is. He announced to the world in general, with no detectable humor, "Somebody didn't pass math class."
That's when I wished I could have used my charm school bon mot; but as I said, I'm older and (ahem) wiser now, so I just smiled a little to myself (for effect) and said "You're absolutely right about that."
It took me a few more minutes (and a couple more goes at the calculator) to be sure that my customer was getting the correct change. Then it was BSA-Head's turn. And by now I was feeling more like this:
Bad Fabric Store Guy by Kate (MSN Paint, October 23, 2009)
(I was somewhat heartened by the fact that no one laughed or cheered. Because if it had been a movie, and if he had been the Good Guy, everyone behind him would have pumped their fists in the air and shouted stuff like, "Yeah! That's right!" and "You tell her, Chief!" But they didn't do that. That means that I was the Good Guy, and he was definitely the Bad Guy.)
But, wait -- The story doesn't end here. I was about to come face-to-face with the Baddest Customer in All of Fabricstoredom!
Here, let me set this up for you...
During a lull (or before the onslaught -- I can't remember which), I had grabbed a quick moment to carry some returned merchandise to the back of the store, pausing just long enough to help a needy customer on my way back to the register. That's when I noticed a large box containing a very expensive folding craft lamp sitting on the other counter. I didn't know where it had come from, but I knew it hadn't been there earlier; I'd used that counter to rewind some fabric onto bolts. Hmmm, I thought...Someone's probably going to buy that, and doesn't want to carry it around the store. My customers are so very clever!
During my quick dash through the store, I had also noticed a tough-looking woman in (surprise!) a pink tee-shirt walking among the fabrics. (I notice a lot of things in MVOFS, not of all of them blogworthy. Trust me -- this is, simply for the fact that it was at least another hour before I encountered Tough Pink Tee-Shirt Woman again.
Have you guessed? Yep. Just a few people behind Big Stupid You-know-who, was TPT Woman. When it was her turn, she barked, "I wanna return that stuff," indicating the lamp in the box, along with a couple of other items -- which definitely hadn't been there when I'd fist noticed the box. (I will absolutely embarrass myself arguing with you if you try to tell me that they were there. That's how positive I am that they were not!)
Well, strictly adhering to MVOFS's policy, I said, "Do you have your receipt?" She muttered something about not having a receipt, but she had her debit card, which she'd had when she bought them. Knowing that there was a little piece of paper taped to the counter that would back me up, I politely declared, "I'm sorry, but we can't take returns without a receipt." She started sputtering then, and looking mean, so I quickly glanced toward the cutting table where our "acting" manager was buried past her nose in piles of fleece she was cutting for other customers. I told TPT Woman that if she would wait a moment, I'd get the manager for her. That's when she started looking downright hateful, and said, "You mean wait here longer than I already have?!! Forget it! I'll go home and find my receipt!"
I felt instant relief that what had rapidly turned into the single most unpleasant situation I'd yet experienced in MVOFS had been so quickly remedied. But when she stormed over to the other counter and grabbed up that big box, along with sewing machine oil and grommet tool she'd also set there (think she had a plan?), it hit me like a ton of bricks: She hadn't brought that stuff in to return at all. She'd been "casing" the place when I'd first noticed her. Seeing that everyone was immersed in either cutting fabric or ringing up purchases, she knew she would have plenty of time to leisurely place her "haul" on that counter and later convince me that she had brought it in with her!
Alas, she tipped her hand when I asked, perhaps just a bit incredulously (before I stopped to think how it would sound), "Did you say you brought this stuff in with you?" She said, "Yes, I did. I set it right here on this counter. You were right there." But I knew I hadn't been there. And I knew that those three items were not placed on that counter at the same time.
I also realized (hindsight) that most customers doing what she was claiming to have done would have announced, "Hey, I'm returning this stuff...I'm just gonna leave it here until I'm done shopping, okay?" (And why wouldn't they? Otherwise, someone might think they were trying to put one over on us!)
I have to admit that this time it wasn't wisdom, but fear, that made me keep my mouth shut, even though everything that's in me wanted me to point my finger, narrow my eyes and spit "Liar!" at her. (Remember, pink tee-shirt aside, she was tough, mean and hateful-looking!) Of course, keeping quiet was the right thing to do. Even before I read all that stuff in our employee manual about treating customers as we would guests in our homes, I think I knew on some level that Fabric Store Guys like me aren't supposed to call their customers liars. But still!
TPT Woman let us know with an afternoon phone call that she'd be coming in tomorrow to talk to the manager about returning her loot. I'm glad I won't be working then...but I would kinda like to be a fly on the wall.
Thanks for listening. Maybe I'll be able to get some sleep tonight!
