Retail Rage: Confessions of a Retail Worker
A retail job is a rite of passage for many young adults. The job should be simple enough: help customers find what they are looking for, check them out at the register, and fold some clothes. As a result, you get a discount on the merchandise and some change in your pocket. But as millions of other naive and innocent souls have experienced before me, it is often not as straightforward as this. In reality, from the moment you clock in, you are bound to have a horror story in the making.
I recently got a job at Abercrombie and Fitch, one of the quintessential American retail corporations. In only the span of a few months, I have started to grind an ax with the store. So much so, I fear the store has evolved too far from its origins: the one that included shirtless men in red sweatpants and flip-flops at the entrance to greet customers in the early 2000s. My store has still kept its dungeon-like darkness and the terrifying moose head above the registers. Even our district manager was a part of the shirtless staff, so I guess we haven’t strayed too far from the motherland. Personally, I think we should have called it a wrap after a task for employees was to spray individual clothing items with cologne. Nevertheless, I have decided to discuss the features of retail work that are universal but dreadful nonetheless to bond with fellow burnt-out associates.
The Seventh Circle of Hell is a Fitting Room
When I was training, I had the amazing job of folding clothes and doing basic retail recovery. Unfortunately, the main associate who worked in the fitting rooms was moving away. So, who did they enlist to take her position? Naive me, who didn’t even know what a go-back was, all during peak holiday season. Now, months later, I am a seasoned expert in the atrocities that occur in that even darker and musty section of the store.
The task should be straightforward: clean out remaining clothes and hangers from the previous guest, open the fitting rooms for the next customer and put the clothes back on the sales floor. What is left out of the three-minute crash course is there will be screaming children, slobbering dogs, and, of course, impatient customers. Then, on top of dealing with this overstimulating coffin that is significantly hotter than the rest of the store, you will be tasked with folding, hanging, and running two full racks and five bins of worn clothes.
Since this experience sounds like a walk in the park, nobody wants to do it. I don’t even have to ask where I’m zoned at this point. I just have to make a beeline to that dreaded room. When I am met with a “Thank god you’re here,” I know I am in trouble.
Since there are only three main fitting rooms and four extra in the girls' section, the line builds up quickly. One time, a couple of days after Christmas, the line was so long one woman, whose two teenagers were taking ages, suggested that someone use the hanger closet as a fitting room. One young man volunteered to go. What she failed to understand was that there was no door, and multiple of my female coworkers would be going in and out to pick up clothes. Despite my warnings, the man started stripping, with his mother barely covering him. After the woman was very pleased with her idea, even saying more people should follow suit, and me being not paid enough, I agreed with a smile.
People watching in a fitting room is similar to observing animals in National Geographic documentaries. Instead of coming to the store later, when it’s less hectic; or just not becoming absolute vultures, they do insane things for overpriced polyester sweaters, camo hoodies, and jeans that aren’t even on sale.
“Do You Work Here?”
No, I actually do not! This is what I wish to say, but instead, the customer service version of me has to take over. Despite seeing me red-faced and frantic with 15 pieces of clothes gripped in my hands, I still get asked this question. Granted, I do not wear a uniform, but the sight of me elbow-deep in a pile of jeans should be indication enough.
Upon hearing that I do, in fact, work at this establishment, any sense of manners or acknowledgment that I am a human seems to fly out the window. One time, a woman came up to me and said, “Hi, how are you?” and I replied, “Go-”. Somehow, my one-syllable response got cut off with a “Can you help me with something?”
Retail Recovery
You’ve been assigned to tidy up the store, so you start folding a table of clothes. Then, you move on to the next mess. Before you’ve even finished, a customer wrecks the previous table. It seems futile to even continue, but the charming aspect of the job is that you have to keep going.
Then, the dreaded closing shift is one not built for the weak. In an hour, the whole store has to be folded, go-backs run, registers closed, and the trash is taken out. And for the morning shift? A mediocre sweep with a dust mop will be done at best.
Checkout Craze
Checking out a customer is almost an art form. We all have a script to follow: a greeting, see if they are a rewards member, and sign them up if not. Then, at the final stretch, ask if they want their receipt emailed or printed, then the classic cash or card line. But I’ve noticed everyone has a different way of approaching it. For me, I skip the whole rounding up your total question since everyone says no, and I have no idea where the money is actually going.
The register is also the place where customers think you are the person making the clothes and the prices. Complaints about the state of the store, the quality of the clothes, and the outrageous prices are ones I can often agree with. But my response is always something along the lines of “Sorry, I just work here.”
With all of this, the line tends to build fast. This leads people to wander to the cash registers in the back in hopes of avoiding the wait. It’s also the place where employees clock in. Two times I have come in with my soaking rain jacket, giant tote on my shoulder, water bottle in hand, and been hit with “Can you check me out?” One thing about me is that I do not do anything before being on the clock. Even if I did, I would need to be assigned to a register by a manager first. But these reasons would fall on deaf ears, so my “They can help you at the main registers” is met with rolled eyes.
After all of this, in only a few months, I think I will need to invest my paycheck into anger management classes before Black Friday rolls around.
Strike Out,
Kim Nguyen
Boca Raton
Kim Nguyen is a Content Writer for Strike Magazine Boca. When not overthinking, this fangirl is either consuming romance media, Vietnamese coffee, or Beyoncé's discography. You can reach her by email at kimvunguyen14@gmail.com or on Instagram @kimnguyen1_.
