I had the audacity to (very!) politely ask the sullen lump on the changing room who I should speak to about an alternative size. A simple question I would of thought, but he greeted it with a sneer and the dead eyes of an overfed mako shark.
His response basically amounted to telling me not to bother as everything was out on the shop floor already. Having worked in retail I totally appreciate that this could quite possibly be true, but that wasn’t actually the question I put to him. Why couldn’t he just answer with “Oh I can help you with that” or “you need to go to the till and they can check for you” or even “we usually have everything out on the shopfloor but I’ll just have a look for you”, rather than the non verbal equivalent of “stop testing me with your foolish queries, can’t you see I am contemplating how to coax my hair into yet more innovative shapes”…
And do they literally not have a stock room?!? I’m sure by the time I visited this PM, they may have sold at least one or two garments since opening their doors that morning. Why oh why work in a job that makes you so utterly jaded and bitter?!? Or feel that same job empowers you to be amazingly rude to complete strangers. Retail can be total hell (I am a seasoned veteran), but I used to welcome the rare occasion when I actually got to converse with a vaguely polite customer. Most members of the public don’t even deign to acknowledge your existence!
This little exchange ended with my thanking him for his wonderful customer service (with a healthy side order of sarcasm) and him (equally tartly) telling me to have a good day (which he actually shouted at my retreating back). Wish I hadn’t then headed to the tills and made a purchase!?! I should have stuck to my principles and given them zero pennies of my hard won cash. But I oh so wanted those jeans…I am truly weak.
Although I did take some comfort from the fact that the guy at the till was totally pleasant to me...
Boat Drinks to the Till Guy!
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