In the last week I have listened to a lifetime's worth of Christmas carols. Not just any old carols though, oh no. The people I work for seem to have a penchant for the Jackson 5 Holiday Hits!. Or as I have deemed them, Reoccurring thoughts trailing into the eventual controversy surrounding Michael Jackson and his death or, more simply, the Please turn it off cd.
Daily eight-hour shifts with nothing but pre-pubescent Jackon children lamenting away about their letters to Santa Claus mess with your psyche, man. Which is why, whenever I can, the music is switched up for the close shift. Because, and let me tell something you probably already know, people can be jerks. And it is my observation in the service industry that people's jerk-dom increases exponentially in correlation to the approach of Christmas.
For instance, the company we buy our foil from to wrap seasonal chocolate in, red-foiled individual milk chocolate bells and stars being the best-sellers, had a minor mishap earlier this year causing a disruption of their production. Maybe you've heard of it? Tiny little thing called Hurricane Sandy? Yeah, well that Sandy wench was in a bad mood and leveled the foil company so we are in the unfortunate situation of being unable to have foiled chocolates. We've made up for it by making more in-store products, a bonus, I think because "Think local, shop local" and all, but some people are a bit irked to say the least.
Way too often is the case that people will come into the store and ask for those items. We give them the run down, how the company is rebuilding and hopes to be back up and running in eight months, we apologize, direct them to the same product just not wrapped up individually in a foil and like clock work, we watch the meltdowns.
The most common hissy fit thrown is by far the, "My children MUST HAVE these chocolates." One man tacked on, "They have had those bells in their stockings for thirty-two years." Which I had two responses for, both of which were inappropriate for employee behavior.
The first: cut the cord, man. If they are that old and still getting a stocking from you, maybe you ought to consider charging them rent for your basement and Cheeto's.
The second response was that I can't imagine full-grown human beings, better known as adults, to get too emotional over a missing chocolate bell the size of my thumb. Most likely they'll thank you for the reason to begin their New Year's resolution to diet a bit earlier.
However, the absolute best reaction to hearing that the foil company is sitting pretty under seven feet of water goes to a woman who exclaimed, "Eight months before they can get you foil? But, that means there will be no chocolate foiled eggs for Easter! What am I supposed to do now for both Christmas and Easter?"
Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.
Yes, ma'am, please continue to whine over your loss of a luxury item while someones ENTIRE BUSINESS is literally sunk. That is eight months of lost revenue for not just one, but many families, along with the fact that people were injured during the hurricane that had the audacity to steal away your holiday chocolate. No, please, you were completely justified in your outrage against the store I work for because you, as a consumer in the United States of America, are at any time allowed to demand and in that very respect receive, without regard to human suffering, your sweet chocolaty goodness. Never mind that people lost their loved ones, homes, and businesses to a natural disaster that they could not control, YOU are the one wronged. You will not get your brand of chocolate.
Whew, that just deflated a big ol' amount of sass I had been swallowing down the past few weeks.
Before you paint me as the holiday grinch, in my defense, it's been a long week. I was warned about the weeks approaching Christmas and the pressures it would bring at work. People take their gift giving very seriously, it's tradition that can be summarized in one picture:
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| Bazinga. |
A co-worker of mine took a customer under her wing a few nights ago, helping him choose seven custom boxes for his family. He was lost and just looking for good gifts and she helped him out, working for over forty minutes, picking and choosing and matching flavors for particular people. His bill was large, but he was okay with that. We all joked that he must be the most-loved member in the family, bringing everyone such nice gifts and he replied, quite softly, that no, he was not even close to be liked in his family. We hadn't realized we'd prodded something in him. He went on to say that these gifts were chosen so carefully for that exact reason. He wanted his family to like the chocolates, even if they didn't him.
Now I don't know this guys name, where he's from, what he's done, or what he will do, but in those moments while we wrapped his purchase up, no one needed to say anything. We all just nodded slowly, getting it. We've all been there, felt that.
He asked how he could add a tip to his credit purchase. That was nice of him, we don't get tipped often even though it's supposed to make up a bit of our wage. On a credit purchase like his, we'd run the card the tip amount and take it out of the register at the end of the shift.
He asked if fifteen dollars was enough, he didn't want to offend us on our work.
Instinctively, and in retrospect, rather stupidly, I threw my hands high into the air. "Fifteen dollars? Offended? You win customer of the year!"
My co-worker barked a laugh out and said, "We would be happy with fifty cents, are you sure?"
He nodded.
I hope your family reads this, sir.
