Friday, June 4, 2010
Seriously, do I Ever Stop Complaining?
I'm not cut out to work in retail. Change that. I'm not cut out to work with people.
I've sold the school's T-shirts and sweatshirts for the past year, and I am so eager to be done with it, it's like I'm waiting for Santa Claus to come with gifts.
Like the gift of not having people say "please" and "thank you" when you go out of your way to exchange the shirt they bought because the shirt is too big or too small or too blue.
Like the gift of not having to grin when someone's kid is going through the shirts before having watched the ketchup off his hand.
Or the gift of not saying, "Are you freakin' kidding me? You want me to sell you a $12 T-shirt and you want to pay with a $100 bill?"
How about the gift of not having to document ad-freakin'-nauseum the sales of said T-shirts and sweatshirts, like I talked about here? ['Tho I did rather enjoy my snark-filled diatribe about the whole process.*]
Or the gift that lets me no longer have to answer to the multitudes of parents about why I haven't filled their order when they turned it in an entire day earlier?
Summertime, summertime, summertime, summertime. And Santa.
*How about some excerpts from that documentation?
I agreed to take on the spirit wear sales for 2009-10. Unbeknownst to me, the previous chairperson planned to dump the task onto me at the conclusion of the 2008-09 school year, which left me doing the task beginning in May, covering the end-of-the-year family picnic. Suffice it to say, whoever takes it on should carry it through to the end of the school year.
There is no “team” from which to recruit from. There is me. And my many minions that I call “offspring and spouse.”
Storage, along with keeping inventory, are the two biggest issues. (Aside from my total distaste for customer service and people who can’t be bothered to say “Please” and “Thank you.”)
[Photo courtesy HubPages.]
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