Saying Goodbye

So I just stumbled on this website called Learning To Love You More. I haven't really gotten into it that much. But it looks very interesting.

You see, lately, I've been "really into" (I hate that expression) experiences. Doing new things, seeing new things, learning new things. Experiences.

So I've been looking for inspiration, and that's how I fell upon this website. I'm not sure if you're supposed to do these in order. It probably doesn't matter. But #70 struck me.

A little over a week ago, I quit smoking. Now don't go thinking is more than it is. You see, I never smoked that much. Usually just 2 per day. Before work and after work. More when I'd hang out with my sister. And some days, not at all. I honestly believe it was a habit, and not a true addiction. So quitting isn't really that big of a deal.

Except, it is. Because I enjoyed smoking. And did NOT want to stop. But I know I must. And so I did. And the reason, it's a big deal, is because I miss it. I miss it during that last half hour before I have to go to work. And I miss it on the drive home. I was actually sad last Saturday night. I don't crave it. I miss it. The act. And I feel like I will always miss it.

So I'm doing #70. Perhaps sometime, later on in life, I will feel good about this. But for now, I do not. This is a loss that I feel very deeply. And so, it IS with sadness that I say "Goodbye smoking."

Sabrina

Randomness on a hot afternoon

I came home today and it's warm. Very warm. Dare I say hot. Upper 70s. Ok, yes I realize that my Texas friends have been battling the upper 90s for weeks now. You have my every sympathy. You really do. But this is why I moved here. So I could luxuriate with the windows open in mid June. Yah, because I luxuriate all the freaking time.

Anyway, it's a bit warm today. And my nerves are a little frayed. And I feel I just don't have to the patience to wait for the cool breezes of twilight. So I switch on the A/C. After a hour of running, the dial indicates that it's warmer than when I switched it on. Sigh. Will you understand my frustration when I tell you that I just had the A/C "fixed" on 5/27? Sigh. Is there any way I can get bigger quotes around "fixed", because it SO wasn't fixed! Dammit!

* * * * *

I was chatting with my mom a few days ago. Something I don't do with much frequency. But since I finally got "that program who's name escapes me at this moment" loaded on my laptop. So now she catches me online more often. Although, sometimes she'll message me after I've dozed off. Yes, I doze off and leave my laptop open! So easy to do while I'm luxuriating in the cool of Michigan!

Anyway, I told her that Michael and I were moving this summer into a cheaper place so that we can save money to buy a house. This was a mistake of MAGNANIMOUS proportions! Do NOT tell your parents intimate details of your life! And I don't mean YOU per se, but me. Because I do realized that not all parents will suck your soul out through your eye sockets. But this was a practice that I implemented some years ago. And learned some years after that, that I was successful. I was going through my divorce, and I was talking with my mom. And she complained that I she didn't KNOW anything that was going on because I didn't TELL her anything. Yup! Bingo! The little lady gets a prize! And I told her at that point, that that was all by design.

What would you imagine a mother (step really but it's a way long story that I don't feel like visiting . . . ever again) would say to her daughter upon learned that said daughter and loved (now) son-in-law are embarking on home ownership?

"Oh that's wonderful!" "Where?" "What style?" "How big?" "Can we write you a check to start you on your way?"

Alas, none of the above. Her response was simple and succinct. "House are expensive. Both to buy and live in."

Almost a week later, I am STILL scratching my head over this one! First off, does she think I don't know this? Yes I know this. I am slightly acquainted with real estate and mortgages. I had a 12-year career in the prison that is the mortgage industry. Thanks for the ride, I think I'll pass on my souvenir pictures. So in case she thought I wasn't, yes, I'm aware of what home ownership entails.

Am I not smart enough? Not worthy enough? Not old enough? Regardless of what my parents think, I am NOT a 17-year old dipshit anymore! I am almost FORTY! Deargodinheaven! Do they think I run a cash register and make bows all goddamn day long, like my sister-in-law thinks?! I don't want to say that I'm kind of a big deal . . . BUT I'M KIND OF A BIG DEAL AND I DESERVE TO BUY MYSELF A FUCKING HOUSE IF I WANT A FUCKING HOUSE!

Oh, yah, and that move halfway across the country, wasn't an accident! It was because I couldn't stand to hear you tell yet another one of your friends how I got busted sneaking out of the house by the dog. I was 16 then, I'm almost 40 now. Get the fuck over it already.

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Ok, have to go eat dinner now. Pasta with white cheddar sauce and broccoli. Ok, really it's a box of instant macaroni and cheese with some broccoli thrown in. But the former goes so much better with the whole luxuriating theme. Don't you think?

P.S. I didn't think it was going to be this long, when I started this post. Mwah!

For Carrie

Not sure if you can post pics in comments, so just did it this way. Cool, huh?

More Customer Etiquette

Well, today I think I found THE most important tip when being a customer.

Please please PLEASE make sure your boobies are secure within the confines of your clothing.

I know, you'd think this was a no-brainer. But alas, today, one poor lady found her booby trying to make a break for it. She was wearing a sleeveless purple dress and her right boob (thankfully WHITE bra-covered) was trying to escape through her right armhole.

Oh you think maybe it slipped somehow when she was reaching for something? And perhaps she corrected it within moments of it happening? Yah, uh huh, you wish!

No, the front-end supervisor spotted it as soon as she walked in the door. When she told me about it a few minutes later, I HAD to see for myself. Although, I was sure it would be corrected by then. Yah, no such luck. Righty Whitey was still there.

Ok, I guess in the whole scheme of customer infractions, this is small. Granted, it wasn't disgusting. Just . . . . odd.

So I'd like to address my adult customers. I have some very shocking news to reveal to you. Are you sitting down? I am not your maid. I am not your sickbed nurse. And I am not your personal shopper.

Please do not leave your Beaners coffee cups (Beaners is the Starbucks equivalent, and yes I know that name would SO not fly in Texas) around my store. In one more morning, during one sweep of the store, I found 6 coffee cups. Seriously, WHAT goes through your mind when you consciously set your empty cup on my shelf? Do you think you're helping to save my job in this precarious economy by giving me busy work?! Yah, not so much.

If you break something, let me know. DO NOT just leave it. Someone else can get hurt. And DO NOT attempt to clean it up yourself. The LAST thing I need is to have to clean up broken glass and then fill out an incident report because you sliced your hand open.

Also, if you happen to climb up one of our ladders and attempt to retrieve some item, yourself, I will NOT fill out an incident report. I will beat you about the head and neck! Seriously stupid people, stay the fuck off my ladders!

A word on accidents. Bathroom accidents. I understand accidents happen. They happen to us all. It's not fun. But they happen. And if it happened at home, would you just leave it for your spouse to clean up. Ok, some of you would. And . . . ew. An attempt to clean up after yourself would be nice. That's all I'm saying.

Also, if you've found that you've shat your pants, please don't continue to shop my store. Leaving a trail behind you. Maybe you should just go ahead and head out to your car. We'll be here tomorrow.

THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE! THESE THINGS HAPPEN IN MY STORE!

I actually do like it when people ask where to find something, or if they require help with a project. But admittedly I do not always have the answer. Chances are, if I know who might (I'm not a good shopper, so I rarely know for sure if another store carries your item) have your item, I will suggest it. Do not ask me if Hobby Lobby carries it. I do not know. I don't work for them and I do not have an inventory of their merchandise. Do not stare at me dumbly. It's too tempting to smack you in the forehead. I know you wish I would just shit out whatever item it is that you want. But that's not going to happen. I know, I've tried.

Wanna know the weirdest thing that we've been asked for that we don't carry? Toilet seat lid. Not kidding.

I'm really not as curmudgeonly as I seem. I am a very caring, giving, service-oriented person. I even got a hug today after I helped a lady find flowers for her daughter-in-law's gravestone, and let her show me pictures of her passed on DIL, the gravestone, her grandchildren, christmas trees. That kinda shit just MAKES my day! Seriously, I'll sleep well tonight knowing I made a difference (albeit small) in one person's day.

All I ask is that you engage your brain before entering my store. Please and thank you. Peace, love and sandy toes.

I suck at blogging.

And I think I know why. I was thinking about this tonight. The realities of my life are rarely new, fun or interesting. My realities involve mundane things and routine. I LIVE by my routines. But honestly, my life is very quiet and boring. The most interesting thing I've done this week is burst into tears over a stupid thing at work. Hormones!!!!

Now, I don't think there's anything wrong with the boring, mundane routines of my life. But I guess I don't look at them poetically enough. Or why anyone would want to read about them. I know, odd since I'm blogging about it now. haha!

Tonight I was coloring my hair. And I could truly see another blogger writing something along the lines of:

"So I've been a redhead for so long. And I finally decided to go back to my natural brown. It was like running into an old friend or slipping into a comfy sweatshirt like that butter yellow Guess sweatshirt that I wore all through high school that only got softer and more comforting with each wash."

Mmmm, yah, not so much. The fact is, I DID go back to dark brown. But only because I can't make a decision. Seriously! Ask Michael! He WILL confirm this! And when I'm red, I want to be brown. And when I'm brown, I want to be red. So tonight, I couldn't look at the roots anymore and I had dark brown in the cabinet.

So that's it. All unromantic and uninteresting. And not even remotely worthy of your time here. And THAT is why I suck at blogging.

But I shall persevere.

Control Your Spawn

We regularly receive comments from our customers. And last week one of those read “I wish that everyone who worked here knew what customer service meant.” One might surmise that she was upset with the level of customer service she received. Or that she was happy with some associates, and unhappy with others. Either way, I absolutely agree with her.

We are in a service industry. Retail is a service industry. Especially our store. Because we sell absolutely NO necessities. A fact I would love to point out when little old ladies trudge through blizzards to visit us. On a morning when the snow is so bad that schools are closed, and some businesses, you're going to be hard-pressed too convince me that you REALLY need eyelets or beads. And you CERTAINLY don't need to return those 67-cent picture hangers. Nevertheless, we are in a service industry. And we all need to know and exhibit good customer service.

And I also think the people who are consumers (we all are!) need to know how to be good customers!!!

Why don't we start with CONTROLLING YOUR SPAWN.

Firstly, DO NOT bring them into my store if they are sick. If the school doesn't want them there, I surely don't want them puking all over the sticker aisle. Again, we do not sell anything that you NEED, therefore you do not need to drag your poor kids all over hell and creation. Take them home and take care of them.

Secondly, not one person in the store wants to listen to your kids whine, cry or scream. There are several reasons that children behave this way. Possibly they are tired or sick. Take them home. I've also seen parents who purposely antagonize their children. I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. They taunt and tease their children into tantrum. Seriously! I look at these people and think they should have just stopped after a blow job. We also get the parents who all but ignore their children in the store. Mom and/or Dad are happily shopping as if this is a solo trip. Meanwhile Junior is further down the aisle (or in a different aisle altogether, unsupervised!) removing things from shelves and pegs and strewing them about. Sometimes, Mom eventually realizes this and comes over to correct the situation. Sometimes involving yanking of arms til you wonder if they might pop from sockets, and usually involving yelling and foul language. Seriously! The child, in turn, starts screaming. Mm, lovely.

Yesterday we had an instance of a child tantrum. This kid was screaming full voice throughout the store. The mother continued to shop. I'm guessing she had long since gone deaf. This kid even drowned out the intercom pages from the loudspeaker. Seriously! While the mother paid for her purchases, this kid lay on the ground and continued to scream full voice. Our ears were ringing by the time they finally left. NOT kidding. It was not cute and it most certainly was NOT acceptable. Not only did you upset the associates, but you also disrupted other shoppers. I'm sorry, but that is not your right. DEAL with your child. And definitely look into some parenting classes. Seriously! Because you're sucking at raising children.

I had another young person in my store yesterday. She looked me straight in the eye, knocked over some styrofoam cones into the aisle, and walked away. NOT kidding! Yah, mm hm, I can see the kind of parenting you're getting.

My job entails a lot of things. But cleaning up after your child is actually NOT one of them. I know you think you're helping to save my job by letting me clean up their puke, as well as replace the merchandise that they've destroyed. But no, you are not. When I'm cleaning up after your precious monster, I am not getting other things done, and I'm unable to provide good customer service to anyone. No ifs, ands or buts, control your spawn!

Want more ideas on how to be a good customer? Keep reading, I'll post more tips soon. But for now, maybe just stop at the blow job and not complicate things further. Seriously!