Deliver me from ramekin evil

This week marked my departure from my part time job as a floor salesperson at a popular housewares and furniture store (if you live near yuppies, chances are you have one of these stores near you). I have always fashioned myself as sort of a curmudgeonly sort, so when I started working at this place over two years ago (to make some quick - and legitimate - holiday cash), I was prepared to hate the whole hypercapitalist operation. I was pleasantly surprised, however, by the fact that not every customer who came in to the store was a lunatic, driven by subliminal messages planted in the New York Times Magazine to purchase every piece of shabby chic in their sightline. It wasn't that bad, though, probably because good products keep people happy and minimize complaints. There were some things that really disturbed me, though.

I was put off by the rich kids buying shit that don't need and trying to be adults before their time. I would say that this was less than 5% of the customers with whom I came into contact. Anyone who has spent a portion of their adulthood working in the service sector has posed this question to a coworker: "Where do these assholes come from?" I can't believe that someone who is 22 years old and is buying $70 magazine racks and $1200 dining sets is going to be able to manage his finances in adulthood. Maybe I'm wrong.

Then there are the bridal registrants. Let me just say that if you're going to fight over juice glasses in front of the guy who is trying to show you how to use the scanner, then it's probably not going to last. And if it does last, don't register for $8000 worth of shit, receive it, and then bring it all back for cash because your buddies from Wharton expected you to have Grey Goose and cigars at the reception. It's stupid, and the only people you're fooling are yourselves.

Don't take comfort in the fact that stores know a lot about you. They ask for your phone number, your zip code, or some other piece of information, and, once they run your credit card, they can find out a lot more about you, your purchasing habits, which websites you go to, and probably even more stuff that I don't know about. If you return something, they definitely need your information, lest you make a regular practice out of returning something. I can’t believe that most people don’t have a problem with this. Take my advice, just say “no thanks” when the salesperson asks for this information. They’re not going to cry if you say this, believe me. And nothing that great will come to you if you bestow your data to them. The most you can expect is a different hue of turquoise in the fall throw pillow collection.

Working in retail is like penance, and I realize that this sounds snobby. But really it’s only snobby to those who will never have to do it, or to those who truly think that the work is beneath them. There are a lot of people who, for lack of a better way to put it, were born to work at a store, and they should be proud of it. I'm pretty cynical, and I still acknowledge that there is an element of service in working at a store. I don't mean "customer service", I mean true service, like helping someone out when they need it. The people who don't really need that help are usually the ones who treat salespeople so badly. Luckily, I didn't run into too many of those, and the ones who got in my face made me stronger. And where are they, looking for that taupe bath mat?