Making Shoplifting a Pleasure
The store where I work had a terrible crowd last weekend. This isn't to say that the number of people was large; in fact, it was about average. What my fellow employees and I experienced was an exceptionally low quality of people.
You see, most of the customers I serve are nice. I know that's unusual to hear from somebody who works in retail, but it's true. I always try to treat my customers with decency, and I tend to get the same treatment in return.
But not on Saturday.
Not many people were rude to my face, rather, they chose to be completely obnoxious behind my back. All over the place there were packages torn open so that people could "see what it looks like." What most of these people fail to understand is that once a box has been torn open, the product within becomes impossible to sell. And I'm not just talking about toys. Stereos, golf clubs, roller skates (which were kindly left in the middle of the store) were among many things that had been defaced that evening. The one that I couldn't wrap my mind around was the "Hello Kitty" tent. Somebody took it out of its package, set it up in the store and the left it there. And so until we had time to clean up after closing, we had a friggin' pink tent sitting out in the middle of the sporting goods. And obviously some parent allowed all this to take place. I'm not a parent myself, but if my kid decided to set up a tent in the middle of a store, I think the conversation would go something like this:
"What are you doing?"
"I'm playing campout, daddy!"
"You put up a tent in the middle of the store."
"Aww, I'm just having fun!"
"That tent doesn't belong to you."
"I want it!"
"Well, then I've got some good news! You get to live in it now."
What really got me, though, was the sheer amount of theft that took place on Saturday. I found more empty packages for stolen items on Saturday night than I have in my entire time in the electronics department. A knife, a set of "Maple Story" trading cards, and three pairs of windshield wipers were just a few of the purloined products. Seriously, what kind of a kleptomaniac steals windshield wipers? I even caught a kid in the act of trying to open a box of "Chaotix" game cards. The worst blow of the evening was when a professional shoplifter made off with an MP3 player and portable DVD player. The security guys realized that he was a professional when they recognized him as the same man who robbed three other stores. His technique is to quickly open packages with a razor blade that he keeps hidden in his mouth.
I'll say that again.
My department was robbed by a man who keeps a sharp metal blade in his mouth.
I mean, what happened? Did Arkham Asylum shut down and they sent all the inmates to Georgia? Saturday night was like a whirlwind of chaos, greed, and broken dreams mixed with a sense of self-entitlement that I'll never understand.
Are there any other retail or ex-retail workers out there with similar experiences? I'd love to hear your stories.
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1 comments:
I work in a book store, in case you forgot.
1. Late August, an older black woman shuffles in...she asks if we have a trash can behind the counter. I assume she just needs to spit out gum, so I reach down and pick up the waste basket. Had I been paying more attention I would have seen the horrified expression of the associate standing next to me. I was standing at such an angle that I could not see the dirty diaper in the woman's hand, but I was able to hear it thunk into the trash can. Please note at this point that this woman did not enter with anyone, least of all a small child who might have need of a fresh diaper. I stand there stunned as she quickly walks away without even a thank you or a backward glance. After I compose myself into a somewhat less agitated manner I carry the trash pail to her and tell her that we can not have "this sort of thing" at our front desk and that she'll have to take it back. Her response: "Well, I guess I might as well just take the whole thing then..." Implying the plastic bag lining the basket. I tell her to go right ahead, and she does and leaves the store carrying her little sack of crap. Once again I would like to point out that there was no child of diaper wearing age associated with this elderly woman.
2. Every phone call to the store goes about the same way: "Hi, thanks for calling -----, this is Matt, how may I help you?" The response to this is always thus: "I'm lookin' for a book." This is then followed by a long pause where I am expected to say something in return, some kind of affirmative to prove that I understand that they called a book store looking for a book. I have chosen instead to begin waiting silently until they tell me what exactly it is they want. Most people assume they've been hung up on, others accuse they can hear me breathing and wonder why I say nothing, why I don't give them the affirmation they so desperately require in order to continue some weird ingrained phone rhetoric.
3. I have had people ask me to help find books they do not know the title, the author, or even the subject matter to; but they do remember that the book had a red cover.
-- MJ
P.S. As I'm sure your stories are, these are just the tip of the iceberg.
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