Those unfortunate enough to be close enough to me to receive “venting” know this story well in its many beats. For those who don’t (or just to recap), it’s gone a little something like this:
The assistant visuals manager at the Banana got fired.
I put forth my name to replace her.
I had an informal interview with my general manager, and an interview with the district visuals manager which my boss said he would prepare me for, then didn’t get around to. I did my best.
I was *allowed* to do the visuals tasks as some sort of audition. Also, this worked out decently well for the short-staffed management team.
Weeks went by, and word on the street became that they wanted to bring in a guy who’d worked in NYC at a Banana, and who currently lives somewhere in Pennsylvania. How this was ever plausible I don’t know.
He said no, and they offered to some other unknown person. They were allegedly concerned by my familiarity with the staff, i.e. that they wouldn’t take me seriously in a leadership role (though I had already done a three-month acting management stint in which this issue never arose.) They were also concerned with my leadership skills (see: previous parenthesis). Finally, the visuals district manager didn’t seem to think I was strong enough at visuals… for someone going from an entry level to lowest possible management position (I guess I’m supposed to be better than the previous assistant manager, who had the job for 4 years?)
My boss met with me to impress that he was pushing for me, and that I was not being strung along. He was going to give me an answer either way Monday.
Monday came and went. No developments.
A third name came up in contention. In the most blatant figurative slap in the face, it was the current assistant visuals manager at Menlo… who began her career working in our very store, with the same employees I was under suspicion of being too familiar with.
And then, we come to today. On my day off, my phone rang with the ominous caller ID “Banana Republic”. This can never be good. It never is. It never has been. I let them leave a suitably ominous, ambiguous voicemail before I called back. As you may be able to guess, they offered me the position. In the course of the offer, they also noted that the proposed payrate would be $12, which is less than that girl who works in Menlo began making when she first got promoted, and threw in a comment that my “look” would need to “be more Banana” because it was apparently a bit too “Abercrombie”, which was my manager (a supposed retail professional)’s way of trying to say “Anthropologie.”
And that is the way things are done at my store. I have only been seriously working for two years; this is my first promotion, the first merited achievement of my working career. I should be jumping up and down with an incapability to stop smiling as I deliver this information. Instead, it’s just… meh. I need the money, so of course I’ll take it. But as opposed to feeling finally vindicated or like my hard work is appreciated, Banana has, as usual, crushed my spirits.