I work at a department store part-time. It's December, 'nuff said.
As a Holiday Sales Associate, I want to say please don't be that shopper.
Today, it's three hours into my shift, a lunchtime job of 11-4. I have not yet had my break. (By the way, I get only one 15 minute break during my five hour trip to hell to navigate the crowds at the food courts and cram burning hot pizza into my face.)
I've been assigned to refold clothing on a table that has somehow become this:
Which, you know, happens.
Yeah, it's not the customer's job to refold an item when she decides she doesn't want it, or to put it back as neatly as possible, or at least close to the original place she found it. I mean, it would only take you like five minutes and some common courtesy, but whatever.
Anyway, I'm working my way through the rubble when a woman comes up to the table, looks me dead in the eye, and says, "You know you're fighting a losing battle, right?"
Why would she want to break my spirit like that? I don't say anything back, too busy trying to not get fired. As if that wasn't enough, she goes around the other side of the table, finds a pink shirt at the bottom of the pile, and pulls it out which flips a recently folded stack over. Then she leaves.