Post by Scruffington on Jul 26, 2005 23:36:00 GMT -5
Just like that other thread thingy I wroted, this one deals with Canadian Tire. Not Canadian Tire specifically, but rather a strange (not to mention extremely embarrassing) event that occurred there. Like most events that are recorded here at the ScruffingTeck boards, this one is indelible and yet extremely mundane. However, before I begin, there are a few things that you must understand.
The first is that I would rather converse with customers than work, and as luck would have it, 90% of them would rather converse with me than shop. This will occasionally send my supervisor into fits of rage, but that's a story for the SIXTH THREAD.
The second thing you need to understand is that the people who I talk to are extremely odd and curious wastes of flesh. Yes, it may seem harsh to you, but if it does, you've probably never worked retail before. m i rite? yuss i m!
The third thing to understand is that when I work, I am GAY.
Or, if you prefer, I act like a faggot. One of those try-so-hard-to-be-slick assholes. You know, the people who oversell things and are either really loud or really quiet and don't have the willpower to give a definitive answer because they're too busy covering their own asses in case somebody high up is listening to them talk.
Now that you understand these three things, I can tell you about my encounter with the savvy e-commerce pirate of Lethbridge.
I was working in sports. For those of you who don't know by now, my regular department is hardware. Now, working in sports is a treat; there are no supervisors, there isn't a lot of knowledge involved with it, and facing (the art of moving products and stuff) is a breeze. As such, I became incredibly bored, and when I get incredibly bored, I start to want to talk to customers even more.
Halfway through aisle 50, a man I saw eyeing our fine selection of boomsticks rounded the corner and immediately, with no encouragement from me, initiated a conversation.
"How's it going?" He asked.
"I have known better times," I replied.
"Really?" He said.
"Yes really," I replied, wondering why he hadn't asked me for something yet.
After a few moments of silence, he spoke up again.
"You like working here?" He said, inching closer.
"It's a job," I said, inching farther away.
"You want a man's job, son?" He said, raising a single eyebrow in a most distrubing manner.
Now, this was most peculiar, as he looked no older than, say, one of the Lonely Island fellows. Surely, this 20-something man wasn't actually a hideously old 50-something man? Before I could ponder this strange development any further, he spoke up again.
"Because I can give you a job. It's e-commerce, man!"
This was even more puzzling, because he just tried to appeal to two of my greatest passions; the internet and hippie slang. I spoke quickly; probably too quickly.
"What?"
"E-commerce. You know, buying and selling things online. I do it part-time and I make six times what you make!" He said with much exuberance.
"Oh, you mean like the internet?"
I was playing dumb at this point.
"Absolutely! But that's what's so awesome about this, man. I don't even own a computer."
This was entirely too much. He USED THE INTERNET, BUT WITHOUT A COMPUTER? TO MAKE REAL CASH MONEY?
I was dumbstruck. I had to know his secrets.
"You've piqued my curiosity, good sir," I said, with much forced interest.
"Just gimmie your info, man. I'll call you and set everything up."
Well, I wanted to get back to work, so I gave him my phone number. What's the worst that could happen? Let's hear some speculation from you people!
Personally, I'm betting that he'll have me selling crystal meth and guns to school children, and other such jokes from Red Vs Blue. Failing that, he's probably gay and will molest me. Maybe he won't even call, who can say? What I can say is that I will do my best to make six times what I'm currently making and I'll do it via E-COMMERCE, WHICH IS SELLING AND BUYING THINGS ON THE INTERNET, BUT I DON'T EVEN NEED THAT SWEET JESUS.
Picture unrelated.
The first is that I would rather converse with customers than work, and as luck would have it, 90% of them would rather converse with me than shop. This will occasionally send my supervisor into fits of rage, but that's a story for the SIXTH THREAD.
The second thing you need to understand is that the people who I talk to are extremely odd and curious wastes of flesh. Yes, it may seem harsh to you, but if it does, you've probably never worked retail before. m i rite? yuss i m!
The third thing to understand is that when I work, I am GAY.
Or, if you prefer, I act like a faggot. One of those try-so-hard-to-be-slick assholes. You know, the people who oversell things and are either really loud or really quiet and don't have the willpower to give a definitive answer because they're too busy covering their own asses in case somebody high up is listening to them talk.
Now that you understand these three things, I can tell you about my encounter with the savvy e-commerce pirate of Lethbridge.
I was working in sports. For those of you who don't know by now, my regular department is hardware. Now, working in sports is a treat; there are no supervisors, there isn't a lot of knowledge involved with it, and facing (the art of moving products and stuff) is a breeze. As such, I became incredibly bored, and when I get incredibly bored, I start to want to talk to customers even more.
Halfway through aisle 50, a man I saw eyeing our fine selection of boomsticks rounded the corner and immediately, with no encouragement from me, initiated a conversation.
"How's it going?" He asked.
"I have known better times," I replied.
"Really?" He said.
"Yes really," I replied, wondering why he hadn't asked me for something yet.
After a few moments of silence, he spoke up again.
"You like working here?" He said, inching closer.
"It's a job," I said, inching farther away.
"You want a man's job, son?" He said, raising a single eyebrow in a most distrubing manner.
Now, this was most peculiar, as he looked no older than, say, one of the Lonely Island fellows. Surely, this 20-something man wasn't actually a hideously old 50-something man? Before I could ponder this strange development any further, he spoke up again.
"Because I can give you a job. It's e-commerce, man!"
This was even more puzzling, because he just tried to appeal to two of my greatest passions; the internet and hippie slang. I spoke quickly; probably too quickly.
"What?"
"E-commerce. You know, buying and selling things online. I do it part-time and I make six times what you make!" He said with much exuberance.
"Oh, you mean like the internet?"
I was playing dumb at this point.
"Absolutely! But that's what's so awesome about this, man. I don't even own a computer."
This was entirely too much. He USED THE INTERNET, BUT WITHOUT A COMPUTER? TO MAKE REAL CASH MONEY?
I was dumbstruck. I had to know his secrets.
"You've piqued my curiosity, good sir," I said, with much forced interest.
"Just gimmie your info, man. I'll call you and set everything up."
Well, I wanted to get back to work, so I gave him my phone number. What's the worst that could happen? Let's hear some speculation from you people!
Personally, I'm betting that he'll have me selling crystal meth and guns to school children, and other such jokes from Red Vs Blue. Failing that, he's probably gay and will molest me. Maybe he won't even call, who can say? What I can say is that I will do my best to make six times what I'm currently making and I'll do it via E-COMMERCE, WHICH IS SELLING AND BUYING THINGS ON THE INTERNET, BUT I DON'T EVEN NEED THAT SWEET JESUS.
Picture unrelated.
? DO YA??!?!?!