Since graduating last year, it has become more and more apparent that my lecturers forgot to tell us that before we ended our drunken haze of weekdays being our weekends and midday drinking being acceptable that being thrown into the big bad world of work and actually getting a job you find mildly satisfying; oh by the by: it's hard.
I use the term 'lucky' loosely when I say that moving back to Brighton, I was lucky enough to already have a part-time job in a clothes shop. Being a fashion graduate it deemed appropriate that I should be surrounded by fashion concious employees and beautiful clothes. For the first few months it helped ease me back into a world where seeing 7am wasn't because we were still buzzing from the night before and actually because I was going to make some money.
There was a brief period, sometime last year whilst working in this retail shop that it was more than mildly enjoyable. I had past the employee starter stage where I didn't have to pretend every time I went down to use the toilet I wasn't checking my phone or doing my hair and I was making enough sales to keep the management team happy enough not to care that occasionally a five minute sit down in the fitting room didn't warrant them to believe I was slacking. Conversation on the shop floor turned from complimenting the new collection to personal and fun topics that made the mornings seem easier and the final hour fly by.
A fun filled day of work would consist of chucking the CDs that Head Office would deem appropriate to blare out to customers, behind the CD player and instead listen to a medley that our gayer-than-gay Supervisor would make for us all. Playlist check: Madonna (Euggh), Gaga, Beyonce and the occasional Smiths track to keep us heterosexuals happy.
I'd like to meet the person who likes to loosely label themselves 'DJ' whilst compiling these awful CDs that can only be described as 'elevator music meets chilled out electro' with the odd wail from each track with lyrics such as (no joke) "All my family's dead". It is fair to say listening to these CDs on repeat is known amongst us as a mild form of torture that probably should be taken away from shop floors and instead used in prisons and the like.
Now back to the pricks. Retail has an alarmingly high turnover of staff. Alarmingly high, yes, alarmingly shocking? No. "I'd be jealous of you, but I'm just happy one of us has got out" Is a quote from a good friend who also has to get up in the morning knowing the most rewarding thing of the day is the hour lunch break. It's easy to moan when you work in retail. You're always on your feet, always have to be happy and always have to be at a customer's beck and call. Granted we are not on the front line of Afghanistan and I have no doubts in believing a trained monkey could perform certain jobs asked of us deflated employees.
I have met some of my closest friends through working in retail; these people are few and far between. Easily spotted by glancing at the rota and not letting out a groan when realising who you're in with that day. But there are some loons. These are normally located amongst the management team. Recently, under new management, we are under super strict instructions to follow 'The Day Book' also labelled (by them) as 'The Bible' Spare me. Please. Especially when they highlight tasks afterwards to make us aware of what has been completed successfully. Because there would most likely be a frenzy if, heaven forbid, we'd forgotten to highlight that the mopping/hoovering had been achieved.
This book consists of the most mind-numbingly, boring, simple tasks yet supposed to be taken with the utmost seriousness and dedication. Well, may I say there is only so much one can put their heart and soul into whilst 'Sizing and Spacing. EVERY.GOD.DAMN.DAY.
And whilst this rant comes to a close, it is clear to say that if you do ever take a job in retail, be prepared to deal with overzealous managers who believe that if things are not finger spaced, or labels tucked it, it will be so detrimental to the takings of the day that you may as well be drinking a tinny on the shop floor whilst shouting 'Fuck youuuuuuu' to every customer that waltz into the shop.
