Retail and other Tales of Woe

I think I got an education because I worked in retail once upon a time. I don’t know if you know anything about selling clothing at a store, but let me just give you a clue: it’s barbaric. And when I say that you are in the wild, what I mean by that is, you have to deal with the public. People. We all know people are maddening. And you have to work under crazy sales-obsessed managers who hate life and you.

When I worked at Victoria’s Secret, an Indian man came up to me and told me that he was looking for a bra for his wife. I asked him what size she was. His response was, “About your size.” This is what I’m talking about right here. The longest I lasted at a retail store was a few months. I either quit or got ‘let go,’ obviously because I was overqualified. It was too hard, people!

You have to understand, I was young and some of the only jobs I was qualified to do were in retail, and when I failed miserably at them, I started thinking maybe I’m not good at ‘jobs.’ I began considering my options as a housewife. Seriously, the scars of retail run deep.

There is nothing good about working at a store. If you are not compulsively folding clothes, you are trying to sell overpriced items that you would never buy in a million years, even if you had a million dollars. You have to try to convince others to buy this crap. And you have to deal with snobbish customers who look down on you because they know how little you are getting paid to help them.  

There were times when I applied to work at some very posh and expensive stores. I’m sorry, I might be a cheap ass, but I will not buy two hundred-dollar sweaters and five hundred-dollar shoes. I am aware that there are people who will and do, but I’m just not that person. Literally, no matter how much money I make.

I’ve been buying my clothes at Shein lately, an online retailer that is probably horribly exploiting their employees in China. There are probably sweatshops with little kids doing sewing slavery. It is wrong for me to shop there, but the stuff is so stylish and cheap I can’t help myself. You can get a cute top for like six dollars. I get compliments all the time. My justification is that I can’t spend a lot of money on clothes as I’m losing weight and my size is changing. 

It’s just one of the many reasons I will probably go to hell.

I’ve thought about working temporarily at Starbucks because they offer health insurance, but have you ever really seen their baristas in action? It’s like coffee boot camp. They are on a mission from god to bring you your morning coffee with a speed reserved for emergency responders. You’d think it was a national emergency that I need my coffee at 8 am. 

I mean, they are not wrong. I’m a complete bitch until I’m caffeinated. My words are slurry, and my vision is blurry until I take that first sip. I usually sleep drive to Starbucks, and I stumble my words out to get my order just right, and watch in amazement as they make my very complicated drink in under two minutes. It’s miraculous.

There ain’t no way I can work that fast. Who needs healthcare anyways? I never really get sick. 

Don’t even get me started on waitressing. I have no idea how wait staff operate. There is so much to juggle: food, drinks, orders, different customers, and kids screaming. The random maniac who wants water without ice. (Just saying, water is supposed to be cold!) It’s a mess. I worked at Olive Garden for a hot minute, and it was just a big ball of stress. 

I don’t understand how some servers don’t write down your order; they just ‘remember’ it. I don’t remember my own name some days, much less what you want to eat. But there is also this vortex where wait staff go when you need something. They disappear into outer space, and they cannot be found until it’s time to pay the bill. It’s always been a mystery to me what they are doing.    

The service industry is too hard for me, that’s why I had to go to college. Yes, studying at even a graduate level is easier than serving food or selling clothes. I’m not making this up. Respect the people who do this; they are smarter than the rest of us. They are faster and much better at dealing with humans than we will ever be.

I’m not speedy Gonzales when it comes to ‘doing things,’ and I’m no good at small talk. That is the only reason I had to find a profession in which I could sit behind a computer or create lesson plans where I knew what I was talking about. I can say things to people to get them to understand concepts. I can’t just say things to people to get them to spend money.   

I even tried to sell Cutco knives at one point, if you have ever heard of those. I was very young and impressionable. I thought I could sell these knives to my family, friends, and their friends. I could not do that at all. Who on earth wants a six-hundred-dollar knife set, and this was in the nineties? The nineteen hundreds were interesting; we couldn’t buy anything on the internet and had to actually talk to people face to face in order to buy something. 

Nowadays, you can live a lot of your shopping life without speaking to anyone. Is this healthy? Probably not. Does anyone care? Probably not. 

I’m worried about the writing jobs I’m applying for, especially the remote ones. Will I ever leave the house and talk to people? I’m not good at small talk, but I’m good at talk talk. In fact, conversations are my favorite thing to do in life. I may not be good at anything else besides talking.  

I want a job where I can talk to people and be by myself to do whatever writing is required of me. Is that too much to ask? I am an introverted extrovert. I need time alone, but I also need time with other people, only if those people are not annoying coworkers and mean bosses. I don’t like everyone. I think I mentioned earlier that dealing with the general public is not my thing. 

So what is my thing? I’ve pretty much covered all the things I detest in the employment category of life. I have to say, if someone would pay me to write this blog, I would die and go to heaven. Actually, I take that back, I would stay here and never ever leave…just someone pay me to do what I love…writing about random topics that are at the top of my head. 

But really, when it comes to jobs, I would love to do many types of writing except very technical writing, I’m not good at it, and let’s face it, it’s a snoozer. I can teach any type of English, especially to college students. I refuse to work in secondary education because I turn into my mother when disciplining children. But I’m willing to tutor English to anyone of any age or ethnic background. So if you are fresh off the boat, I’m your girl.  

That leaves a lot of possibilities for me. I was thinking of starting an online class that involves spirituality and writing. Now that would be my jam. I just refuse to work in the zoo that is retail. I am lucky that I don’t ever have to go back there. But never say never, I don’t want to jinx myself. 

If you are a retail worker, thank you for your service. I mean that with the same sincerity as I would to someone in the military. You are literally battling the average person all day long. I don’t know how you do it, I would literally lose all my hair and what’s left of my mind. 

I like to think I have a good sense of humor. I’ve always wanted to write for a TV show. That would be fun! Can you imagine sitting around the writer’s table thinking of witty responses to ridiculous plots? It’s probably about as much fun as you could have working for the man. 

But I work for the woman here, on this blog. I work for myself. And that’s pretty cool, I’m trying to figure out how to make money doing that. If you have any ideas, please drop me a line. I’m serious, I need help. I’m about to sell my soul writing dialogue for AI bots. Someone stop me before I drown in capitalism. 

nina