Worked 1-9:30 today. Actually, a little longer than that, but first things first.
When I arrived, there were more than enough people to man the registers and patrol the floor. Even so, the displays were quite jumbled. “Gee,” I thought in my innocence. “It’s gonna be a job getting everything squared away by closing. I better stay on top of things.”
Spent much of the first few hours on register. Out on the floor, I fought a losing battle against items that had been abandoned hell and gone from their designated areas. I did see one task through to completion. A customer complained that she “couldn’t find anything” in the knife section. Once there, my jaw dropped: it looked as if racoons had been at it. Just one big heap of knives, knife sharpeners, cutting boards, and instructional videos. I found what the customer was looking for, then spent half an hour getting everything sorted and either hung from pegs or stacked at the bottom of the display.
Returned to register and rang up for another half hour. During this time, I learned that “Josh” would arrive shortly, to work 5:30-9:30; everyone else had left or was about to; and “Pat” was also on until 9:30, and also hadn’t had his dinner break yet.
Josh arrived on time, clocked in, and promptly disappeared. Pat was finally able to track him down…in Tabletop. “They don’t have anybody over here,” he claimed. “Well, neither do we,” Pat said, somewhat testily. “Rilch has to go on break, and then I have to go.”
What finally happened was that I took my break from 6-7, then Pat had his from 7-8. Josh stayed in Tabletop the whole time. Now, granted, they really didn’t have anybody else over there, but it was at that time that Pat and I began to wonder what management had been thinking when they made up this schedule. Especially in light of the fact that today was not just Saturday, but the Saturday after Christmas.
During my break, I ventured out to the Hickory Farms store and found it shut. Not just for the night, but apparently for the season. So much for my petits fours. Whiled away the rest of my break, then relieved Pat.
As I mentioned in my MPSIMS thread about the Saturday before Christmas, it’s at times like these that cashwrap gets swamped with returned and abandoned merchandise. There was nothing I could do about it, either, since I was entirely alone and there was never more than thirty seconds between customers. At one point between 7-8, a customer asked why I was working alone. Mildly, I remarked that I didn’t know either. He further inquired why “that guy” (Josh) was “just sitting on his butt by the wedding registry desk”, then started towards him. Later reports had it that Josh saw him coming and hightailed it back to the Tabletop cashwrap. Another customer gave me a candy cane “for being so sweet under pressure.”
Pat returned, and both of us started counting down to 9pm, which we assumed was closing time. We planned to close the registers, then do a speed-run to return the heaps of merchandise on the counter behind us. Ron appeared at some point during this, offering help at clearing up, but since he is one of the slowest mofos in the universe, that came to almost nothing.
At 9:05, realization finally dawned in Pat’s and my frazzled brains: despite it being five minutes past the supposed closing time, 1) customers were still milling about 2) the doors were opened, and 3) we hadn’t heard any PA announcements to the effect that the store would close in X minutes.
“When do we close?” I inquired of a passing manager.
“Ten.”
“…” (me)
“…” (Pat)
“Well, if you guys can stay till ten…Just close the registers and go. 'S’okay…I don’t know who made up the schedule…They really should have had you guys on from 2-10:30.”
:mad: :mad: :mad: :mad: :mad:
Now, my anger does not stem from some kind of I_D_B_Besque sense of persecution. It’s not a matter of “Wah, they made me stay another half hour!” or “Wah, they made me earn my paycheck!” What was wrong about this whole thing was that, with only two people on register, and for two hours, only one, we were not able to effectively SERVE the customers!
I had a woman waiting almost fifteen minutes for me to go and retrieve a set of queen-size sheets from the storeroom, because the line never ended. The few times that I found myself serving the “last” person in line, someone else, or several someones, would always materialize behind them. There was one woman whom I could have cheerfully killed. I could have broken away in order to look for the queen-sized sheets, if only she hadn’t insisted on slowly…counting…out…exactly…forty-six…cents. Or maybe not: when I did return from my sheet quest, I found a very aggravated woman with two frying pans and a teakettle, asking, “Can I ring up here or what?!”
And people don’t take too kindly to suggestions that they go to Tabletop or Children’s to get rung up. What, look for another cashwrap when this one’s right here? Whether or not that’s an unreasonable request…I dunno, it’s not my call. What’s unreasonable is being in a position where I have to decide between pissing off the person who wants to pay for a set of wineglasses or pissing off the person who wants me to look for her sheets.
So we finally left, with cashwrap still in shambles. Hell, the whole floor was in shambles! The knife display was still in good shape, but that’s not the answer to everything! The opening shift tomorrow is gonna be so pleased with the sight that greets them. I won’t blame them for being pissed, but I hope it won’t be at me or Pat.
Management, you suck! Two people?! You needed three people to close, at least; preferably four! Why did you hire all those seasonals if you’re not gonna use them? And not coordinating the ends of shifts with the closing of the store is true rectal-cranial inversion.
Oh, and I also whacked myself in the mouth with a skillet handle. But on the plus side, I opened another charge account. Well, technically, it was declined, but I still get points for getting the guy to fill out the form. And I gave him 10% off anyway, so he went away happy. Also, I hadn’t realized Pat didn’t know how to close the registers. Now he knows.