There are signs at the front of the store stating very clearly no animals but service animals are allowed in the store.
Yet day after day people persist in bringing their dogs in. Usually their lap dogs, cradled in arms or purses, shivering and scared to death of everything.
I don't like lap dogs.
Yesterday, though, a woman came in with a large breed puppy in her arms. I think it was probably a Rottweiler, large enough to stand above an adult's knee easily. She was just carrying it along in both arms like a stuffed toy. I caught her on her way out of the store.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but Target does not allow non-service animals in the store."
"Oh, really? I see dogs in here all the time, so I wasn't sure."
"We do our best to prevent that," I replied crisply. "So please..."
She walked away.
I should have pointed the sign out to her. It's in large text. It's hard not miss.
People apparently don't understand that we are not PetSmart.
People apparently don't understand that it is a serious health risk to have animals in the store.
People apparently don't think about what would happen if we got shut down by the Department of Health.
They don't even stop to think about how they'd feel if everyone were allowed to bring their dog.
I have been aggressively pursuing people who bring dogs into the store since I've started working. Very little makes me angrier.
It isn't just the thoughtlessness towards the workers and other customers that gets to me.
It's the thoughtlessness towards the dog. It is bad for a dog to treat it like a person. The reason these dogs end up being so insufferable is because you're not treating them like a pet, but a baby doll! Treating a dog like something equal to you, on your level, results in biting, lots of barking, nervousness, piddling and a number of other neurosis.
So the only one who truly benefits from toting the dog everywhere is the person who can't bear to be separated from pwecious, and wants to show them off so people will say how cuuuute they are.
Because while I enjoy making people feel bad and embarrassed for doing something so thoughtless, I'd rather they just not do it at all.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
The Second Time In My Life An Old Lady's Thrown Something At Me At Work
The first time was while I worked at Taco Slave, and an elderly lady threw her little order number stand at me, apparently angry with the wait during the Sunday lunch rush.
This happened last November.
Me: *rings elderly lady up*
Her: Is there floss in there?
Me: ...Hmm, doesn't appear to be.
Her: I need floss.
Me: Alright, I can just suspend this while you go grab the floss you want, and then when you come back with it all I'll have to do is scan this and you can pay for it all together. *does that*
Her: No no no, I want to pay now.
Me: You want to pay for this now and pay for your floss separately?
Her: I pay now.
Me: Okay. *fussing with the suspension i just did, since it takes me a minute or two before the machine will even register the suspend you just did* I'm sorry, I just thought you meant you wanted to grab it and then pay--
Her: That was YOUR mistake.
Me: okay. that'll be [a little under $35]. here's your receipt. :D
Her: *wanders off, leaving her stuff in the middle of everything*
Me: Okaaay. *puts her stuff in her cart and pulls the cart over to one side where it's not blocking everything, and rings up next customers, a short line forms*
Her: *shows up with the floss and holds it out to me*
Me: I'm sorry, you're going to have to wait behind the next customers.
Her: But I paid!
Me: *wtf?* I didn't ring you up for the floss. I asked you if you wanted to pay for it in a separate transaction. Do you want me to ring you up when I'm done with these customers?
Her: No! *throws it at me, apparently aiming for my head, though it lands impotently on the counter, and stomps off with her cart*
Me: I guess not. :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD *tosses the floss into the reshop basket*
Young Lady Next In Line, Buying Decorations With Her Husband / Boyfriend: Don't worry, I'm not going to throw anything at you.
Me: That's good. You'd probably actually hit me! :DDD
The funny thing, the young lady after the floss-throwing lady remembered me the other day in her line, almost more than four months later. She assured me she still wasn't going to throw anything at me.
This happened last November.
Me: *rings elderly lady up*
Her: Is there floss in there?
Me: ...Hmm, doesn't appear to be.
Her: I need floss.
Me: Alright, I can just suspend this while you go grab the floss you want, and then when you come back with it all I'll have to do is scan this and you can pay for it all together. *does that*
Her: No no no, I want to pay now.
Me: You want to pay for this now and pay for your floss separately?
Her: I pay now.
Me: Okay. *fussing with the suspension i just did, since it takes me a minute or two before the machine will even register the suspend you just did* I'm sorry, I just thought you meant you wanted to grab it and then pay--
Her: That was YOUR mistake.
Me: okay. that'll be [a little under $35]. here's your receipt. :D
Her: *wanders off, leaving her stuff in the middle of everything*
Me: Okaaay. *puts her stuff in her cart and pulls the cart over to one side where it's not blocking everything, and rings up next customers, a short line forms*
Her: *shows up with the floss and holds it out to me*
Me: I'm sorry, you're going to have to wait behind the next customers.
Her: But I paid!
Me: *wtf?* I didn't ring you up for the floss. I asked you if you wanted to pay for it in a separate transaction. Do you want me to ring you up when I'm done with these customers?
Her: No! *throws it at me, apparently aiming for my head, though it lands impotently on the counter, and stomps off with her cart*
Me: I guess not. :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD *tosses the floss into the reshop basket*
Young Lady Next In Line, Buying Decorations With Her Husband / Boyfriend: Don't worry, I'm not going to throw anything at you.
Me: That's good. You'd probably actually hit me! :DDD
The funny thing, the young lady after the floss-throwing lady remembered me the other day in her line, almost more than four months later. She assured me she still wasn't going to throw anything at me.
Friday, March 14, 2008
This Friday night - even crazier than normal.
Friday nights are always a bit crazy. Ever since the beginning-year lull ended, the weekends have been getting progressively worse - or should I say better? My closing shift started out like average. I gently scolded a lady with a chihuahua in a carrying bag. "Just so you know, our store doesn't permit non-service animals on the premises. Please do not bring your dog in next time." Experience has taught me to do this after the customer is rung up so they can't scowl and throw their stuff at me. I say it as nicely as possible, and they titter and say, "Oh, thanks, I didn't know."
I could really get into this, very little pisses me off more than people carrying their stupid little lapdogs around. The thing is, if people just lied and said they were service animals, I'd probably drop it, since the laws relating to the licensing of service animal are vague and you are not required to present paperwork to prove a dog is a service animal. But guests know they're not supposed to have dogs in the store and are generally sheepish when confronted with the fact. People just think the universe revolves around them, and everyone's going to be as charmed by pwecious as they are. They don't consider that a store that employs 100 people could be shut down for days if the Department of Health caught onto dogs roaming about, or that it's not at all good for a dog to be carried around like a baby doll.
So needling the dog-lover made my day a little brighter. I like to watch them squirm like the ratlike dogs they're so fond of. Then came the lady whom I was sure would be my Story of the Night.
She told me she'd been writing comment cards saying that we ought to carry Pepsodent toothpaste for 2 years straight now. She wanted to know who she could talk to to get her voice heard. I suggested calling our feedback hotline or checking out the website, but she asked to talk to the manager. She explained that Pepsodent is a great toothpaste, and very cheap in comparison to other brands and just as good, and that our business would increase exponentially if we would only carry it. I cheerfully explained that the corporation makes decisions in stocking on a national level, after doing a lot of research. Thus, the merchandise at the stores are more or less uniform, though somewhat tailored to regional differences. However, Pepsodent Lady was adamant that she really should be able to do all of her shopping here and not have to hop over to Walgreen's to get her boxes of Pepsodent. All in all, I liked Pepsodent Lady. She was older, in her sixties, long hair. She had a Southern drawl that was very appealing.
In the end, she asked to see my manager. Not that hiss of "I need to speak to your manager" that is meant to intimidate but just makes cashier roll their eyes, she was right friendly about it. I called over to her Sunshine, one of my team leaders, who smiled the whole time while nodding her head. Pepsodent Lady told her the same story she told me, and received more or less the same answers. In the end, Sunshine assured her that she would talk to the overall manager of the store about Pepsodent, relate to him the tale of her 2-year campaign of comment-card writing and everything. And Sunshine may well have. It doesn't mean our store is ever going to carry Pepsodent. If the corporation thought it would sell, we'd sell it already.
I was grinning by the end of that encounter, honestly, because Pepsodent Lady was so very passionate about getting us to sell her favored toothpaste. The rest of the night was pretty busy despite dismal weather, and as usual on weekday nights, the store was rife with brats and screaming children on wheelie sneakers.
I was in a lull and thought very little of the slight woman and her husband who presented to me a blue and white ceramic vase, urn-like in shape. There weren't any labels on it, nothing to scan, so I was going to have to have its numbers looked up. As I was searching the item, the woman piped up that she wanted money off for damage. "It looks fine," I said, but then she pointed inside the vase.
"It looks like someone..."
There was liquid in it. Something like chocolate milk. Honestly I didn't notice a smell, just flecks, and it became horrifically clear: Someone had vomited in this vase.
And this lady still wanted to buy it, just discounted?
I called over Dimples, who quickly called over her boss. I kept saying to the woman, "I'm not sure we can sell this to you, it's unsanitary."
When Dimples asked if they truly wanted to buy it, the lady's husband said reasonably, "We can just dump it out and clean it." A mad rush back to home decor proved there truly were no more vases, and the woman still wanted it. So they looked up the numbers for the vase and I rang her up for it - a sixteen dollar vase. I was instructed to give her 10% off on it.
We only gave her 10% off for the vase she insisted she wanted that someone puked in.
I suppose the reasoning was that she was likely the person who did it. I still don't think it was logical for us to sell it, like I said, very unsanitary, but if my bosses said it was okay, then it won't be my shoulders the blame falls on if the woman or her husband get seriously ill.
I wouldn't handle it anymore after I saw the vomit. Fortunately, they did not expect me to bag it, I just gave the husband a bag for it.
My squick level is pretty high. I used to work in adult care, bathing elderly people, changing adult diapers, and cleaning and dressing bedsores. The fact that there was vomit didn't make me feel ill at all. I'm not disgusted, I'm not even that surprised. More than anything, I'm just kind of ANGRY.
Someone threw up in a vase in my store!
I could really get into this, very little pisses me off more than people carrying their stupid little lapdogs around. The thing is, if people just lied and said they were service animals, I'd probably drop it, since the laws relating to the licensing of service animal are vague and you are not required to present paperwork to prove a dog is a service animal. But guests know they're not supposed to have dogs in the store and are generally sheepish when confronted with the fact. People just think the universe revolves around them, and everyone's going to be as charmed by pwecious as they are. They don't consider that a store that employs 100 people could be shut down for days if the Department of Health caught onto dogs roaming about, or that it's not at all good for a dog to be carried around like a baby doll.
So needling the dog-lover made my day a little brighter. I like to watch them squirm like the ratlike dogs they're so fond of. Then came the lady whom I was sure would be my Story of the Night.
She told me she'd been writing comment cards saying that we ought to carry Pepsodent toothpaste for 2 years straight now. She wanted to know who she could talk to to get her voice heard. I suggested calling our feedback hotline or checking out the website, but she asked to talk to the manager. She explained that Pepsodent is a great toothpaste, and very cheap in comparison to other brands and just as good, and that our business would increase exponentially if we would only carry it. I cheerfully explained that the corporation makes decisions in stocking on a national level, after doing a lot of research. Thus, the merchandise at the stores are more or less uniform, though somewhat tailored to regional differences. However, Pepsodent Lady was adamant that she really should be able to do all of her shopping here and not have to hop over to Walgreen's to get her boxes of Pepsodent. All in all, I liked Pepsodent Lady. She was older, in her sixties, long hair. She had a Southern drawl that was very appealing.
In the end, she asked to see my manager. Not that hiss of "I need to speak to your manager" that is meant to intimidate but just makes cashier roll their eyes, she was right friendly about it. I called over to her Sunshine, one of my team leaders, who smiled the whole time while nodding her head. Pepsodent Lady told her the same story she told me, and received more or less the same answers. In the end, Sunshine assured her that she would talk to the overall manager of the store about Pepsodent, relate to him the tale of her 2-year campaign of comment-card writing and everything. And Sunshine may well have. It doesn't mean our store is ever going to carry Pepsodent. If the corporation thought it would sell, we'd sell it already.
I was grinning by the end of that encounter, honestly, because Pepsodent Lady was so very passionate about getting us to sell her favored toothpaste. The rest of the night was pretty busy despite dismal weather, and as usual on weekday nights, the store was rife with brats and screaming children on wheelie sneakers.
I was in a lull and thought very little of the slight woman and her husband who presented to me a blue and white ceramic vase, urn-like in shape. There weren't any labels on it, nothing to scan, so I was going to have to have its numbers looked up. As I was searching the item, the woman piped up that she wanted money off for damage. "It looks fine," I said, but then she pointed inside the vase.
"It looks like someone..."
There was liquid in it. Something like chocolate milk. Honestly I didn't notice a smell, just flecks, and it became horrifically clear: Someone had vomited in this vase.
And this lady still wanted to buy it, just discounted?
I called over Dimples, who quickly called over her boss. I kept saying to the woman, "I'm not sure we can sell this to you, it's unsanitary."
When Dimples asked if they truly wanted to buy it, the lady's husband said reasonably, "We can just dump it out and clean it." A mad rush back to home decor proved there truly were no more vases, and the woman still wanted it. So they looked up the numbers for the vase and I rang her up for it - a sixteen dollar vase. I was instructed to give her 10% off on it.
We only gave her 10% off for the vase she insisted she wanted that someone puked in.
I suppose the reasoning was that she was likely the person who did it. I still don't think it was logical for us to sell it, like I said, very unsanitary, but if my bosses said it was okay, then it won't be my shoulders the blame falls on if the woman or her husband get seriously ill.
I wouldn't handle it anymore after I saw the vomit. Fortunately, they did not expect me to bag it, I just gave the husband a bag for it.
My squick level is pretty high. I used to work in adult care, bathing elderly people, changing adult diapers, and cleaning and dressing bedsores. The fact that there was vomit didn't make me feel ill at all. I'm not disgusted, I'm not even that surprised. More than anything, I'm just kind of ANGRY.
Someone threw up in a vase in my store!
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