Recently at work, I’ve had to ask myself one question: Am I a ghost? Or are people just fucking with me? (Nothing would make me respect them more.)
It started Monday, when there was next to no one shopping in the store. There were plenty of employees clocked in, but mysteriously few actually out on the floor. For at least an hour there was only myself and one other in sight. Then, someone called to do a charge send over the phone. I grabbed the item and began taking this customer’s information, when out of the woodwork came no fewer than five employees, all of whom stood within ten feet of me and spoke at the same time with increasing volume. I had to cup my hand over the phone and say, “Could you guys shout more?” Even my customer laughed, “I can hear it here!” One of my managers just responded by saying, “Sorry, we forgot you were here.” Which prompted me to wonder…
Am I a ghost, or is everybody fucking with me?
Yesterday I was folding at the register with veteran Banana saleswoman Rita to my right and acting manager/rare intelligent coworker Mike to my left. All of us were about one foot from each other. Rita was about to go on her break and so informed Mike that a customer named Marilyn was going to call to do a charge send, so he could take care of it if she was on break when Marilyn called (never mind that if Marilyn called and Mike answered, he would do just that; it requires no advance notice.) Mike said okay and walked away to do something. Rita immediately said, “Okay, Kristi, so Marilyn might call. She’s going to do a charge send…” when my only course of action was to throw manners to the wind and say, “No, I heard. I was right here” with utter confusion writ large on my face.
SO: Ghost, or being fucked with?
Today, our new manager, the unbearably perky and pushy Jodi, was discussing the day’s discounts with the same Rita. I will allow that Banana tends to offer numerous discounts at once, and their combinations and limitations can be confusing. However, at least one manager already had today’s figured out and had relayed them to me: Use a Banana Card, get 25% off full-price merchandise (with the code martini25); OPEN a new Banana Card, get 25% off everything (with the enrollment code). Jodi and Rita went on to lament the confusion of this; Rita had rung a customer earlier and the 25% off came off sale. I interjected to explain that this was because the code used was the enrollment code, which always applies to total purchases. The two of them heard no such words leave my lips and went on to decry that that made no sense because the enrollment code would give the usual 15%. I again offered insight, stating that when you process an enrollment, you must enter the amount of the discount, as when we (regularly) run acquisition drives with increased percentages. Neither heeded me. At this point I stood ten feet from them, stating at full volume, “I don’t know why I even talk, no one hears me. It’s as if I’m not even talking.”
Maybe I wasn’t. GHOST, or FUCKING WITH ME?
Finally, hot on the heels of that conversation, Jodi mentioned how yesterday the discounts were a mess. They were. There were about three and their combinability was an issue literally all day. First they didn’t combine, then they did, then one had to be overridden by a manager, and on and on. Jodi, who was pushing the combination of 40% and 30% discounts used together like a dealer pushes crack cocaine, today expressed outrage that we were giving away “70% off!” I did not bother to illuminate the hypocrisy of her opinion, but informed them that “If it makes it better, 40% and 30% is not 70%. That’s not how percents work. It’s 58%” No one even blinked. I can only hope they were so ashamed of themselves they could not respond.
GHOST OR FUCKING WITH ME???
Seriously, is my whole store just tuning me out? Sometimes I spit knowledge.