I want to know why people shopping in a store are allowed to be so downright rude and obnoxious to employees. If I had stood up for myself today, I would have gotten in trouble, because the customer is always right. Well, not when the customer is trying to do things that isn’t allowed by the rules and regulations and procedures of cellular network companies.
But the customer is allowed to be a rude person while I get to go home, internalize this, and drink away the anger and tears. Like, lady, it’s not my fault that you and your husband are going through a separation. Based on how you treated me today, I’m not surprised. Good for him.
I have to say. Today was probably my worst day at the job. The first day where I almost snapped at a customer and willingly accepted termination. I don’t know if I should be proud or sad that it took three months to get to this point.
This has been bothering me for some time now–not as much now as a few months ago, but it still applies: I’m ashamed to tell people that I work at specific department store chain–I’ll call it Mall-Mart on here.
It’s stupid. I love my job and am good at it. Most of the people I help are super nice and tell me that I’m super polite and really helpful. I work in the electronics department and I actually know what I’m talking about (most of the time), or I make it sound good. For the most part, I like and get along with my coworkers. (Aside from one who gets under my skin in ways few people can.) I can put in my hours and go home and enjoy my time without any kind of homework or stress about if I did this right or if I need to do that tomorrow or if my boss will come in too hungover and not like the way I smile at him and decide to fire me or, worse, scream at me in front of everyone. I don’t have to worry about my boss saying some uncomfortable comment (about blondes and convertibles, for example). The worst I have to worry about is an asshole customer, which don’t even bother me that much anymore. I don’t have to make sure I’m in a creative mood or ready to organize an office. I can just go in and stock shelves and help people and zone departments–perfect for someone like me who is in a weird point in their life where basic functions are about all that can be expected of them.
But there’s this stigma about working at Mall-Mart, and I hate it. When I told one of my aunts that I applied, she was like, “Oh, great, another Mall-Mart employee to stand around and talk about their weekend while pointing in a vague direction to direct me to something I can’t find. Get out while you can. You’re too smart for that place. You’re wasting your brain.” A lot of people were also like, “I’m sorry,” or, “Oh, that sucks!” Why? How does having a job that I’m good at suck? How does getting a paycheck suck? How does supporting myself so I don’t have to live in my parents’ basement suck? How does going to the movies and buying nice things suck?
So if I’m so happy where I am, why do I feel ashamed to tell people where I work? If I think it’s stupid that people look down at Mall-Mart as an employer, why do I mutter the answer to the question, “Where do you work?” or avoid the question entirely? Why do I feel compelled to add, “Surprisingly enough, I actually love it,” after telling someone I work there?
I hate it.