Things That You Should Not Do In A Family Owned Retail Store

Note from submitter:

I have done most of these, but those that I have not personally done others have. I retain my job because I am polite to the customers (within their hearing) and “dementedly funny” the rest of the time. (I quote my department boss there.) Some insanity is, I firmly believe, absolutely vital for surviving a 9 hour shift with a bunch of people that you might not spend time with if you were not forced to work together. Most places I have worked are worthy of lists like this, and I believe that every employee ever could put a list together. Unless you are a sad, dull, boring horrible person. In which case do six to eight tequila slammers and then try again. You might not do any better, but at least it will seem more amusing because you are drunk.

(Submitted by Catherine)

• Not to build forts with empty boxes
• Not to build castles with empty boxes
• Not to leave a list of employee names for the manager with the heading “need firing”
• Even if they do.
• I am not allowed to declare martial law.
• Not to refer to the stockboys as “grunts”
• Not to destroy the self-esteem of any stock guy by loudly whispering “oh my god, look at his acne!”
• Even if I do hate him.
• Even if he deserves it.
• When training a new hire on register, not to insist that they refer to me as “Drill Sergent Ma’am.”
• Not authorized to fire managers.
• Not authorized to fire stockboys
• Not authorized to fire office staff
• Not authorized to fire register staff
• Not authorized to fire anyone, period.
• If I am promoted to manager, I can fire any of the above save other managers.
• Just because the hardware manager shoots paperclips at the clothing manager does not mean that I can.
• Same holds for candy
• Same holds for paper airplanes.
• If I win the lottery, not allowed to buy the store simply to “fire all the assholes.”
• Not allowed to test the sexual orientation of anyone with blow-up dolls.
• Or blow up sheep
• At least while on the clock.
• Not to purposely slash bags of candy with my box cutter so that we can eat it.
• Same holds true for Little Debbie snacks.
• And peanuts
• And trail mix
• Not allowed to carry a box cutter in the snack department any longer.
• Not to act like a concert pianist when ringing up a customer.
• May not make myself a name tag that reads “Maestro of the Register”
• My box cutter is not a weapon
• We acknowledge your skill as the best register runner. Should not laugh and smile condescendingly when managers need my help to get the damn things to work.
• It is rather silly to use my 10% employee discout on a 10 cent piece of laffy taffy.
• Even if I do have 11 years of martial arts experience, if commanded to give over my drawer by a robber I really should not “shove his feet up his own ass and pull them out his mouth.”
• Also not to stab any robbers with a pen.
• Or a pencil.
• Not allowed to see if I can kill him with a paperclip.
• Or a safety pin.
• Or a teacup
• If my martial arts instructor (a retired Green Beret who fought in Vietnam) is particularly fond of a technique, not to attempt it on anybody while on the clock.
• Even if it is a criminal intent on rape and murder.
• Because no one deserves to die that way, that’s why.
• Not allowed to refer to customers as “fat, stupid sheep.”
• Even if this is true.
• Not to speculate on the sexual habits of the company’s owner and his wife.
• Not to insinuate that ball gags and rubber catsuits play any role in the above.
• Even if they do.
• Not allowed to fire up one of the grills on the sale floor and “cook up some steaks”
• Or burgers
• Even if I do make delicious burgers.
• Not allowed to have a bonfire in the parking lot
• Even if it would be a cheaper method of cardboard disposal than having the bales trucked away to the recycling center.
• Not allowed to toast marshmallows over the toaster in the break room any longer.
• And I’m the one who gets to scrub the burnt sugar bits off of the table.
• Not allowed to play with the muzzle loaders in the sporting goods section
• Not allowed to play with the longbows in the sporting goods section
• Not allowed to play with the knives in the sporting goods section
• Not allowed to play with the machetes from the sporting goods section
• Particularly not allowed to do this while wearing a hockey mask
• Not allowed to play with the hatchets from the sporting goods section
• Especially not while singing the Lizzie Borden song under my breath (She gave her father forty whacks/and then when she was finally through/she gave her mother forty two)
• Generally, not to touch anything in the sporting goods section.
• Tent camping is not for “smelly goddamn hippies.” I should not tell customers so.
• When a customer asks where we keep the lengths of chain, not to raise eyebrows and say “oh, so you swing that way, do you?”
• Even if I know him and he’s a good friend.
• Even if he does swing that way.
• Not allowed to strip-search hot customers whom I suspect of shoplifting.
• Even if they want me to.
• Even if it is true that it is possible to kill a man with his own knife without physically touching it, I should not demonstrate this technique to any coworkers or customers. (It is possible. My martial arts instructor taught us (my class). He even told us that it saved his life once in Vietnam.)
• Not supposed to eat the food that my coworkers have stashed in the break room.
• Even if the managers do it.
• Just because we are a small buisness and the owner of the store has his office upstairs, does not mean that I can go over the store managers head.
• Except when I do.
• And I did convince him to shell out for new credit card machines, so hahahahaha.
• Not allowed to “purge” the clothing department of taper-legged jeans, sweatshirts with blinking trees on them, flat square-toed chunky shoes, elastic waists, anything with “juicy” written across the tits or ass, and similar crimes against good taste and aesthetic sense.
• Especially if this plan involves a bonfire.
• Even if the gay manager from housewares offers to help me.
• We don’t care if they look horrible, they sell, dammit.
• We don’t care how people look, no. We care about sales.
• No, you can’t take over the clothing manager’s job.
• Not to go down the toy aisles and push every button on every toy to make them all sing at once.
• Not to do the cheerleader dance while doing this.
• Even if you learned both of these behaviors from the clothing manager.
• OK, if she starts it you may join in.
• Not allowed to play good cop/bad cop in the backroom when detaining shoplifters. The police do that when they get here.
• Not allowed to use any Dirty Harry quote in the backroom while detaining shoplifters
• Not allowed to touch the police officer’s gun.
• Not allowed to “touch the police officer’s gun”, if you know what I mean.
• I may do this after my shift ends when the officer offers to take me back to his place.
• Also may utilize handcuffs, as long as it is in his place after my shift.
• I shall not set up the gay housewares manager with any of my gay friends.
• Unless they hit it off and start dating (SOOO cute together J)
• May not demand my paycheck “in shoe form”
• I may however cash my paycheck and then return to the store and buy 20 pairs of stilettos.
• Not allowed to wear stiletto slingback open toe pumps during my shift.
• Even if they are completely fabulous.
• And sexy sexy sex in patent leather form.
• Even if I can walk in heels for 8 hours without discomfort
• Look, just change into the heels after my shift is over, ok?
• Fine, closed-toe heels are acceptable, but don’t be whining that my feet hurt, dammit.
• Not to construct a working scale model catapult from paper clips, glue, and rubber bands.
• At least, don’t fire it at coworkers.
• No giggling when customers ask where the condoms/lubes are.
• Superglue does in fact fix everything.
• At least, in conjunction with duct tape.
• Customers are not always right. In fact, most customers could not locate their ass with both hands and a map.
• The bitchier the person, the less likely that they will receive good service.
• The nicer the person, the more likely I am to “remember” that special sale that we don’t have listed in this week’s ad.
• The owner does, in fact, own me. At least while on the clock.
• Bringing cookies when the office lady who processes raise eligibility is in the process of employee evaluations is a winning strategy.
• Especially the double chocolate drops with walnuts. Those are her favorite.
• Breaks are 15 minutes, not 45.
• Not allowed to clock out for break 15 minutes before the store closes and “forget” to clock back in before I leave. I will not be paid for a 17 hour break.
• Not to buy a bullwhip and leave it on the hardware manager’s desk as a gag gift for his birthday. He might decide that the stockboys do need a little extra goading.
• Not to leave the same on the owner’s desk. He might decide that the department managers need a little extra goading.
• The owner’s blackberry is strictly off limits.
• Not allowed to know any of those credit card numbers.
• Not allowed to threaten blackmail with said credit card numbers.
• Not allowed to sell the souls of my coworkers on eBay.
• Not allowed to sell the souls of any managers on eBay.
• Not allowed to sell the owner’s soul on eBay.
• In this case, because he does not, actually, posses a soul.
• I did not hear the sporting goods manager say that.
• That comment had nothing to do with the sporting goods manager’s salary. Absolutely nothing. Nope. Not a thing.
• Not allowed to take out credit cards in the owner’s name.
• Even if his gross income after taxes is in excess of 7 million yearly.
• Wait, how did I learn that, anyways?
• When watering the greenhouse in the summer, not to take spontaneous showers.
• We don’t care how hot it is out there.
• I am forgiven if the cheap hose that the seasonal manager makes us use and has repaired 20 times with duct tape explodes.
• Particularly if the owner laughed hard enough at that scene on the security tape to fall most of the way out of his chair.
• I am however not allowed to go home and change. I will change into a new uniform in the employee bathroom. Even though my undies are soaked and soak through 3 uniform shirts by the end of the night.
• Though that was rather nicely refreshing, to have nice cool undies.
• No, I have no sense of shame.

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This entry was posted on Sunday, February 8th, 2009 at 9:09 pm and is filed under New List. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.