Why I hate working in retail

Okay, so it's been a long time since I've worked in retail. About 6 years maybe. I could probably write a book on working in retail, the cornerstone of which being that the customer is nearly always wrong. I didn't hate the shop itself, or even the people I worked with. Just everything else. ALLOW ME TO ILLUSTRATE:

Number One – The Customers

Jesus Christ on a pogo stick. Where do I start? Working in a busy shopping centre I had the pleasure of meeting people from all walks of life ('pleasure' equal to shaving with a cheese grater). I don't know what level of hell coughed forth some of the monstrosities that came through that door – be it rudeness, arrogance, petulance or pure stupidity – you name it, they had it in heaps. Which they were more than happy to throw our way because shop assistants are worse than Hitler when you come back into the shop because the pasty, y'know the hot pasty that you asked 'Is it hot?' is too hot for you.

The worst was always when customers tried to get you to serve them when you're going on a break or leaving at the end of your shift, like so:

Screw that for a game of soldiers – I'm done for the day.

Another thing that always stuck in my mind was the customers that for whatever reason needed to bring something back to the store. They'd come lumbering towards the shop like a pink elephant on the horizon, holding their coffee out at arm's length and pointing accusingly at it like it's a bomb they've managed to disarm and now want to show everyone else.

-_-

People that held you personally accountable for stuff they didn't like was funny, too. I think i was once held complicit in an offending piece of cucumber that someone had dropped outside the shop which the next person had then proceeded to slip on quite hilariously. ("I could sue you!") I heard as she got back up. Could you really though? Good times.

Number Two – No rest for the wicked

Shifts. Anyone that has worked in retail (though not exclusively - pretty much anyone working odd hours) will understand the struggle when trying to balance an irregular working pattern with your life, especially if you have school or Uni to chuck in there too. For the last two years of 6^th form and the proceeding first two years of Uni I was there Monday-Friday and working the Saturday and Sunday. Yep, a 7 day week. Yet the mere idea of not being free on a weekend was too much for some of my friends to even comprehend. I might as well have been talking to them in German. Often I would get asked if I was free on a fairly regular basis at the weekend, despite me advising that I work during the day on weekends.

Friday night:

"Oh but can't you get it off?"

"Just because it's a weekend day doesn't mean it's some kind of cop-out where I can just saunter in and out of work willy nilly as and when I feel. So no."

"o rite".

On the flip side, work could never understand why I would ever need a day off to go to say, a family wedding or something:

Someone in a managerial position: *Looks at timetable for that day 6 months in the future, then exhales, not unlike a gas leak*:- "Sorry mate, Tits Mcgee has got that day off. Looks like it's a no go on that".

Me:- "But it's for a family wedding!... I really need it off!"

"Sorry. You'll have to talk to Tits Mcgee".

Tits Mcgee was not cooperative.

Number Three – The Double Edged Sword

Often, as a young person, working in retail is one of the few ways to get a foot in the door in the world of employment. The bizarre working hours and days mean that it's the only way you can have a job that doesn't interfere with your other educational commitments. If none of that applies to you but you choose to go full-time into retail, then you are a brave soul. Frustratingly, it's needed for the income it brings. It's easy enough to get into compared to other jobs especially during busy periods like Christmas-time, not that it's well paid though by any stretch. But again, as a young person that isn't as important because you don't really have a sense of money yet. I mean that in the sense of, yes- the wage is abysmal but you probably aren't paying all your own bills, a mortgage, car insurance etc just yet. My first wage at 16 years old was £3.71 an hour (this was in 2005) but that was the last thing on my mind – I had a job, I could buy shit. Of course, it usually went on food or games.

Those that do work in retail and love it (the shifts don't bother you, the endless tide of derp that is the human population doesn't bother you) then I applaud you. But that job is not for me. It's sometimes an easy trap to fall into - you think you'll just start there to get on the employment ladder, and then whoosh. Before you know it you're 35 and Cheryl's getting impatient in the queue because she wants to return her lacy underwear.

After having worked in retail and moved on, and I think I can say the same for anyone that has – you do cultivate an appreciation for the people left behind. You might be pissed off because there's an unexpected queue in McDonald's at 8:00pm on a Friday night, but spare a thought for the person behind the counter, I'm pretty sure they didn't ask to be bummed off onto the night shift.

Why I hate Buses

Well then, this is awkward.

Four years since I last made a post on this page (the featured post on the right), and for some reason unbeknownst to me, people are still reading it. My only post at that.

So it gave me an idea - why not Zoidb- I mean why not make a few more posts? Maybe even a series, so to speak. A weekly series in which I complain about the little irritants in life, even if it's just to get my blogging spark going again. Definitely overdue on that.

Okay, so without any further ado let's get straight into it. Buses. The word instantly conjures up memories of my teenage years, before I could learn to drive. I was at the whim of the 220 and 221 for many years before I was blessed with my Mini. What exactly is it about them that's so unbearable? In my eyes it boils down to the following five points:


1) Punctuality
Just to clear things up, this is the UK we're talking about. I only state this because my core demographic appears to be Australian teenagers if my viewing stats on my old blog are anything to go by. I have no idea what public transport is like over there. I can only assume it's better than the kind of crap we see on our roads - when they do turn up - ancient, bedraggled, spurting odd noises like an estranged relative that's turned up to your birthday party right before you announce the buffet's open.

You really have to hope that they turn up, too. There's a lot of places around here where once an hour is considered regular, if you miss it you're more fucked than Honey Boo Boo's mother on a treadmill. It arrives, either 10 minutes late or 10 minutes early, the doors open and the driver glares at you (I'll get onto that in a minute) like you've just killed his dog, and I pray that the bus doesn't shit itself and break down before it makes it to the city centre. Half the buses we have here are so old they would be considered classic if they were cars.



Okay, maybe not that old. But you get the picture.


2) The Drivers
So the bus arrives (assuming it doesn't sail past you despite the people stood at the bus stop), the doors creak open. The bus driver gives you a look that would have to be put through several washes and a mangle before it could be considered simply 'dirty'. How dare you embark upon his sacred kingdom of piss and newspapers and Lilt cans rolling around? If you dare to have anything other than the EXACT change well, you'd better hope you enjoy paper I-O-Us which you then have to take to the station to get your change. I guess it can be annoying from the driver's perspective if passenger after passenger gives you £10/£20 notes, but swings and roundabouts I guess. Maybe it shouldn't be so expensive.

Ok, I concede that nowadays you can have tickets on your phone, or the weekly/monthly passes and so forth. Imagine the perspective of someone that doesn't get buses that often. Like people who shop at Aldi for the first time and comically try to pack their £40 weekly shop on the till space of about 1 square foot all frantic-like, putting milk in their handbags and fruit on their head to get enough time to pay. The rest of us know that you're supposed to take it to the side and pack there. No one ever bothers to tell you though. We just stand there, in true British fashion, politely waiting. Then when it's our turn we share an eye-roll with the cashier. It's the same for buses. There should be a sign above the doors saying 'Warning: Bus Driver May Contain Traces of Sympathy'. 

Maybe i digressed a little there.

3) Careful, Now
The following picture is incidentally of a shop chain for which I used to work:


Of course, it didn't usually have a bus inside it. I think the driver just got lazy one morning and thought 'I can't be arsed getting out of the cockpit for my sandwich today'. Too often I remember sitting on the bus and holding on for dear life as the bus swerves around a corner, taking half the passengers off their seats and squashing the other half. I was always sat next to the weirdos when that happened. I remember one woman being pelted forward as the bus braked harshly to avoid a red light all like:



When it's not funny, it's terrifying. Those things can be deathtraps. It's quite sad when someone with a pram or crutches gets on and the driver sets off instantly, in his/her own little world, completely unaware of the chaos unraveling behind as people try to sit down on a moving vehicle.

4) The Passengers
Okay, why is it that someone always decides they want to reenact an episode of Eastenders when they get on the bus? Or sit next to you when the whole bus is empty? Or grossly misunderstand the concept of personal space? I mean, it's always a gamble when you get the bus but maybe I'm just particularly unlucky. Also, people that put their bags on empty seats on a busy bus grate me somewhat. You're obviously going to have to move it due to the line of 20 people waiting to get on, and yet Ralph Lauren is sat there, just waiting to be brushed aside. I like those moments.  

5) Everywhere Else Seems To Have It Better
I lived in Germany for a year. The public transport there is phenomenal. We once had blizzard-like conditions and it only delayed the bus by about five minutes (for which they apologised profusely for). Bullet trains in Japan. Underground metros in many, many cities abroad. And yet you see so many adverts here in the UK trying to entice people into using the bus.

"Go on, get the bus. Pleeeease".
"It's expensive. It's actually cheaper in some instances to drive".
"Well, okay, but what about using the bus to sit back and catch up with your mates?!?!".
"No one wants to be messaged at 07:45 in the morning".
"Oh. Hmm.  But isn't it nice and relaxing to be on a bus and not have to think about driving?!"
"No. No it isn't."


If you made it through all that, then well done. Have a sugar cube.