An Hourly Wage

I dread the moments when I have to tell people I’m working retail.

That’s because I judge and define people by their work.

As I type out that sentence I realize it is unquestionably necessary to regress and sort of set myself up so my personality is clear from now and onwards.

With anything I write I’m not declaring myself wrong and I’m certainly not calling myself right. Before you –the reader- delve too much farther into this blog, I want to make another statement… or more like, I want to issue a quandary.

I find it curious whenever I say, “I wish everyone could just say what they actually mean,” 99% of the time the response I get back runs along the gambit of, “Oh no, no, no- then people’s feelings would get hurt.”

Hmmm.

I’m not refuting that possibility. It is in fact a highly likely possibility; granted, an accidental possibility. My retail experience is messy, stressful and I’m a passionate person who doesn’t think, speak (or write) with much of a filter. I know this is to my great hindrance; many a time I would greatly benefit from shutting the heck up. But I think my stories wouldn’t get told nearly as accurately, fully or humorously as they deserve to be told if I ran them all through a PG filter. None of my thoughts are intentionally maliciously dictated out. So I suppose this is my one and only disclaimer for this blog. Please don’t confuse a disclaimer for a preemptive apology.

Back to the beginning of this semi-shameless ego indulgence of a blog.

I dread the moments when I have to tell people I’m working retail.

The moments usually pounce upon me when I’m meeting new people, a situation that already makes me uncomfortable. There are some people who can make new acquaintances and within mere minutes that acquaintance title as been disregarded and replaced with a sparkling “BFF” or some other acronym standing for grand ol’ buddies for life.

I am not one of those people.

One of my co-workers told me the other day that I have an intense ‘resting face.’ A resting face is what your face looks like when it is not focused at all on making an actual expression. And mine is apparently intense. Which I’m pretty sure is a decent way of saying ‘not friendly and inviting.’ I hope my non-resting face is less intense, but regardless I’m a certain flavor of person that not everyone has a taste for.

Anyway. So when I meet new people I don’t naturally reach out for bonding emotionally and I guess neither does my face. New people turn to me and say the question every kid fresh out of college winces a little at:

“So what do you do?”

I mentally sigh. I have a whole spiel I recite each time.

“I graduated from the University of North Texas last year with a history education degree. I long-term subbed for four months and things didn’t pan out. I’ve been working retail as a Customer Service Specialist at Dick’s Sporting Goods since April. It pays more than subbing and I’ll see what happens in a few months.”

As I speak, I watch people’s faces. Most people make a sort of pursed face and some kind of ‘tsk-tsk’ noise and then cue the head-nod and the little ‘mmmhmm, mmmhmmm’s’ of agreement as my description of the bleak teaching situation comes in.

Sometimes I feel it is deemed acceptable I –a college graduate from a four year university- am working retail only because my Plan A of teaching is a profession currently drifting at the bottom of the economy’s toilet. Otherwise, working retail would not be considered the apex of one’s career aspirations. I know this. And that’s why I dread telling people I work retail. I’d love to be able to say just about anything else.

Since I am working retail, I cliché-ly want to get the most out of this experience.

I started this job in April. Mentally I gave myself a year (a ‘challenge accepted’ moment) to see how successful I could actually be at this gig. The retail sporting goods world is an interesting place to spend 40+ hours a week.

My job title is “CSS”- Customer Service Specialist. Or basically- anytime any customer wants to dump shit anywhere, I step up and hold out my hands to take that shit with a smile.

People seem to fall into one of two categories when dealing with a female working in a sporting goods store.

1. They believe nothing you say because all ability to comprehend and articulate knowledge of sports and the outdoors are housed in male genitalia. Which obviously girls lack.

2. They believe everything you say because if this female has managed to obtain for herself a position at a sporting goods store she must be a certifiable sporting goods/outdoor genius.

I prefer version 2- I'm always a fan of assuming authority, whether real, deserved or imaginary.

I spend all day soothing customer egos. I’ve learned a lot dealing with middle aged to older rich people, aka our customers. The stories of these people’s simply stunning egos and stupidity and occasionally kindness are what this blog will mostly consist of.

I’m fairly leery of delving too much into the muck of working with my coworkers, but certain instances are just too good not to be told. I’ll change all the names so no one can go digging after them.

Sometimes my co-workers are wonderful and we all know our jobs are equally parts ridiculous and exhausting. I went to get my till (a bag of money for the cash register) from the back office and found one of my co-workers had already put out a till for me with my name on it.

It is those small gestures that often give me the fuel to push on for a few more hours of my 10 ½ hour shift.

I hope this is a decent start to this blog. It's difficult to start a blog not at the actual start of the 'thing' you're blogging about. There is so much history to this still a fledgling experience I would feel I was cheating if I didn't allow myself to regress and dictate out some of the past. Stories from April and onwards will no doubt gradually emerge as I feel inclined to write them down.

If this job is anything it's an extreme test of patience and one's own personal ability to 'let things go'. Coincidentally those are two qualities I've been lacking my whole life. I take everything personally, everything is a big deal. Some people deem me neurotic or high-strung. And they're completely correct.

Should make for decent stories.