Pretty in Plaid: A Life, A Witch, and a Wardrobe, or, the Wonder Years Before the Condescending,Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smart-Ass Phase by Jen Lancaster

Author:Jen Lancaster [Lancaster, Jen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literary, Humor, Authors; American, 21st century, General, Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography, Biography, Form, Essays, Fashion, Art, Girls, American, Literary Criticism, Clothing and dress
ISBN: 9780451228536
Publisher: NAL Trade
Published: 2010-05-04T04:00:00+00:00

I’m busy sorting through our new collection of rhinestone jewelry. Should anyone be in the market for sparkly accessories the size of a hubcap, this is the place to get them. Earlier today a customer picked up one of the enormous chandelier-style offerings and asked, “Do those be genuine rhyme-stones?” I couldn’t even begin to explain everything that was wrong with her sentence, so I simply replied, “Yes, they do be genuine.”

I treat customers with the kind of forced cheerfulness our corporate office requires because I’ll be fired if I get a bad review from a secret shopper. If I lose my job on top of being thrown out of college, I will never, ever be out of trouble.

A harried-looking middle-aged lady rushes in and before I can even welcome her, she barks, “I have a hold for Miller.”

“Sure!” I reply in a sunny tone of voice. “Let’s go get it for you.” I turn around and sort through all the hanging items but there’s nothing for Miller. “Hmm, it’s not here. Can you tell me if you held it today?” I don’t recall having seen this woman and I’ve been in the store since opening this morning. “We only keep items on the hold rack until the close of business, so if you held it yesterday, it would have been put back into stock.”

The customer’s face flushes red and she raises her voice. “Yes, it was today. Do you think I’m stupid? I would remember if it wasn’t today.”

In terms of being rude, retail customers are second only to hungry diners. I tell myself it’s not really me they’re mad at, but sometimes it gets hard to, you know, not kick a lung out of them. But I’m here behind this counter instead of in a classroom specifically because I let a revenge fantasy take hold. I have to learn to control myself.

I try to position my mouth into something that’s not a rictus. When I do force a grin, it doesn’t reach my eyes. Hey, I guess I did get something out of rush!

“Of course, of course, my mistake. Let’s give this another look-sie.” I go through the rack, pulling out every garment separately. “No, I’m really sorry, I don’t have a Miller here. I’ve got holds for Helen, for Heidi, for Marcy, and for Joan. Is it possible you gave your first name? Is one of these yours?”

The customer slams her hand on the Formica cash wrap. “No! Go look in the back.” This is not a question.

Aarrgh. The back. I hate that everyone thinks what they need is in “the back.” The back is a cramped storage area with a mini-fridge, a small picnic table, and a bunch of broken fixtures. There’s a crumbling cork board with this week’s schedule tacked to it, and if our cleaning crew is feeling generous, the dank employee bathroom isn’t too disgusting. We don’t put holds back here because the whole area is repulsive.109

I’m about to explain this to the

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