Adventures at Target Part 2

So...the people at Target generally scare me sometimes.  It's kind of a miracle that they've managed to survive in the world long enough to get to the point where they are now that they can "afford" a 50" LED television.  But even scarier is that fact that the managerial staff are somehow qualified to call themselves such sometimes.

Take for instance this scenario:

My department was starting to get a little busy, but nothing I couldn't handle.  A really cute girl had come up and asked me to sell her a camera, so I more than obliged.  I proceeded to sell up the cameras she was looking at, and overall started to make sure that she knew what she was purchasing (ie: what features it has and all that fun jazz).  Very suddenly my walkie goes off with a very pissy voice "ELECTRONICS YOU HAVE A CALL ON 34, SECOND REQUEST, CAN I GET A COPY?!"

Mind you I hadn't heard the first request, which was then confirmed by the guest I was assisting and confirmed again by the tech-installation guy.  Tech guy says to me "I got this," and picks up his own walkie "Tom's currently assisting a guest and is more than a little busy, can someone else get the freaking call?"

My manager jumps down the walkie's throat "If Tom's so busy he should be calling for backup, I'm sending someone back to electronics now".

The three of us stare at each other in bewilderment.  "I don't think he quite got the message..." the guest starts in.

I dash over to the phone, answer the inane "Do you have XYZ in stock?" and "Can you put that on hold until tomorrow?" questions they always seem privy to ask, and returned to the girl I was helping.

Nearly 10 minutes later "backup" arrived.  Really?  What if it had actually been an emergency?  What if I had a line of 20 people all wanting to be rung out for their crap at once?  What if they all wanted iPads, and me as a single human being couldn't handle them all at once?

But whatever, it's the thought that counts.

Backup then leaves, I sell her the camera, and we part ways.  Not 5 minutes later did a massive crowd appear.  "Can I get backup to electronics?  It's starting to really get swamped back here and could really use a hand."

Manager: "Copy that, great communication!  Alright team, let's remember to keep the communication up so we can really push guest experience!"

Silence.

Myself: "So uh...how about that backup?"

It literally took another 10 minutes for backup to arrive, which, by that time all of the other guests had already left or I had taken care of them.

A Bit of Bitching

Okay, I know I haven't posted in about a month and the last thing you want to read is something along the lines of "WAAAH BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCHITY BITCH!" but I'm just going to go ahead and throw it out there:

If you want to live in America, learn to speak English.

It's just something that has been progressively pissing me off for the longest time.  Why is everything printed in both English and Spanish?  Where did the French writing on my box of cereal come from? 

If you're going to move to a country that doesn't speak your native language: at least make an effort to try and learn at least a small yet functional amount of it.  I mean, if I were going to move to Germany, I'd sure as hell try to learn functional bits of German.  I'm not saying that I'd try to make myself fluent in the language, but I'd try to learn just enough to make sure that I don't wind up in the red light district when I'm out shopping for cheese.

But I seriously cannot count the times in my experiences in retail that I've had to call over another employee just because "No speeek inglisch".  For serious?  For fucking serious?  You learned just enough English to let people know that you do not speak English in a really fractured and grammatically incorrect stereotypical statement? 

Mind: Blown

I'm sure this is going to get me a whole lot of hate mail and a whole lot of "How can you be so insensitive?" comments.  No.  Fuck that.  If you are capable of spending whatever wages you have earned (whether through legal labor or not) to purchase a 46" LED TV and give me the "How much cost does this?" and "No speak English" lines, then you are more than perfectly capable of going out and learning a little bit of whatever the native language is.  What gripes me more is that there have seriously been people who get pissy at me because I don't speak whatever language they speak.  Really?  You're going to "No speeek inglisch" at me and then give me attitude when I say "I'm sorry, I don't speak Spanish but let me find you someone who does"?  That's what really gets me. 

I get the whole "This country was founded as a melting pot of cultures and this is just the next step of the whole integration into the world process" bullshit whatever blah blah blah: but still.  I'm not saying "Drop your native language and speak English exclusively."  No.  Far from it.  Go ahead and speak with your brethren in whatever language you chose whether that language be Spanish, French, Chinese, Elvish...whatever.  I'm more so fed up with people going out into general society, not knowing a single word of the native language and expecting the world to cater to them. 

And now I've said my piece. 

A bit of late night epiphany

So this evening I was unlucky enough to get the closing shift, punching out at 11:45pm.  Equally as unlucky was the fact that the only available spot was in the next parking lot down by the Home Depot (which for those of you unfamiliar with the Palisades Center is kind of a long hike involving much traffice and what seems like an endless forest that in reality is more like 30 square feet).

Did I mention it's also 19 degrees and very windy?

So after hiking down to my car from the now empty lot, I was understandably in a less than cheery mood.  Getting into my car and cranking up the heat, it was then I noticed that I was critically low on gas, meaning that there was no way in the now apparently frozen over pits of hell that I was going to make it home without getting gas first.  It now being midnight and realizing that for whatever reason gas stations around here close around 10, I got just a touch less cheery.

Luckily though, I did manage to find a 24 hour, $3.89/gallon station right near the mall, and my spirits began to lift a little.  Until I realized that for whatever reason (current speculation is that my car has a bend in the gas line) takes forever-and-a-fucking-half to fill up.  All that wonderful warmth that I had just begun to feel was slowly seeping out from my fingertips apparently, because they were numb before I even got out of the car.

With gas in the car, heat cranked up and feeling slowly returning to my extremities, I headed home.  The ride home was fairly uneventful, save for some of the more colorful language I used towards the other drivers who apparently decided that up their collective asses was the best place to put their heads while they drove instead of watching the road.  But I digress.

It was when I was nearly home that I happened to look out of the passenger side window and caught a glimpse of one of the forest lakes that pepper the area around here, and noticed the beautiful way that the moon was reflecting across the surface of the water through the trees.  The lake became a glowing beacon in the night, caged off from the rest of the world by the skeletal arms of the trees that surround it almost as if trying to protect it from the frigid darkness that pressed in from every direction.

It was then that I realized that no matter how shitty a day goes or how cold and dark the night becomes, there is always something out there that can help alleviate the weight of the day even if only for just a brief moment: and sometimes you only need look out your window to happen upon it by chance.

Now I should really get to bed.  I have to open the store tomorrow after all.

Adventures at Target Part I

Now don't get me wrong, I do actually enjoy my job.  It's just that some times things get very..."trying" we'll say.  If it's not the huge piles of "push" (items to stock out) or ridiculous "procedures" (daily maintenance protocols) being pushed by managers that no one bothered to train me on, it's mostly the guests: because we're Target and we treat our customers so well that they aren't customers because they are welcomed guests in our place of business dammit.

Today was especially something to behold.  Despite being a Tuesday afternoon, the guests we had today were a breed all their own.  For instance, here's a conversation between myself and one guest:

Myself: Hi there, can I help you find something?
Guest: Yes, I'm looking for car radios.
Myself: I haven't seen anything like that here, but we can take a look.
Guest: I've seen them here before.
Myself: Hmm...well ~thinking to myself 'NOPE!'~ we can take a look over here, but if anything I feel like they'd be down in Automotive.
Guest: Oh I know.

Myself: 
Guest: Which way is it?
Myself: Oh it's...that...way...~points her off in the right direction~
Guest: Thank you!

Or perhaps another that happened to the cellphone girl:

Cell Girl: Hi there, can I help you find something?
Guest: Do all the phones just sit there like that?
Cell Girl: Like how sir?
Guest: Don't they have a cover?
Cell Girl: Well...no...they do sell cases for them separate from the phone.
Guest: No!  I don't want a case for it!  I want a cover!
Cell Girl: Sir, I'm not sure I follow what you're asking for?

Conversation continues as such for several more minutes

Guest: A cover!  Just like this one! ~picks up a flip phone~

Cell Girl: Uhm...

Yeah.   Just part one of an ongoing series that I'm hoping to continue as I continue working here.  Just one adventure out of many.