Confessions Of A Teenage Apparel Supervisor

by Kuradok Evangeline

Summary: For those who have worked in retail. We salute you. From working the till to working the floor - there is always a story to be told, bitched about, gossiped on or just plain made up.

Disclaimers: This story is rated M for swearing, sexual references and situations, and some things that some people may find offensive. Character descriptions have been adopted from real life but people, situations, characters themselves and behaviour are entirely fictional (Or loosely truthfully based) and created by myself.

Chapter One: Customercide

"Do you have any of these out the back?"

No.

"When will you be getting some more in?"

I don't know.

"How do you get these tops down?

I can get that top down for you using the extra large pole from the fitting room. However, I must first attempt to retrieve it from the arse of 'that bitch from the desk'.

"Why are they up so high?"

They're up so high because Bitchface said so. Bitchface happens to be the apparel manager and also happens to be male. He's rediculously tall with a face that loosly reminds me of a smurf, contains a liquid grain storage facility where his stomach should be and giggles at the mere instance of anything remotely sexually related. He's also happens to be the youngest manager, in which some of his staff have been working at the store longer than he's been alive.

...and so starts another normal day at work. Full of those pathetic things we call customers, or what I also refer to them, as Pests. If only they invented customercide: 'One spray can repel customers for up to 3 hours! Or, alternatively, one squirt to the face can result in entertaining flails and screams directly out the doors of your store! Recommended only for the following: Rude, Annoying, Stupid, Dirty, Smelly and Psycho Customers.'

The morning...

Walking down the stairs I sluggishly make my way down to layby/Bitchface's office to visit Nariko the Heavenly Sword Welding Warrior aka my best friend. She's tall, with electrifying grey blue eyes, the smile of a cheshire cat and long red hair cascading almost to the base of her back.

"Yo" she mutters while putting the cash into the register.

I manage to "Hey" back before slumping into Bitchface's chair to see the notes for the weekend staff.

Nariko sniggers as the Hawk rampages past layby, his talons set out on his newest arrival in the home section. Hawk is the hairy chested Italian beast from the North that carries a sexual stamina that lingers within about a 5 metre radius of his body, he also happens to be the manager in charge for the weekend. He has short black hair, piercing dark brown eyes and a thick gold chain that is sure to pull out a few chest hairs from time to time. How riveting. I salute goodbye before making my way back into apparel country as I prepare myself for a 'full day of full on fun'. Cough.

I begin in the fitting room where I recieve my first Pest of the day.

"Hi, How are you? How many have you got there?" I cheerfully ask. Its too cheerful, it almost makes me sick; and it's way to early for me to be smiling this early, I probably give off the effect of Barbie on crack, in which the Pest simply stares at me with a bewildered look.

"Good thanks, Oh I've got lots!" She finally replies.

Oh lots! Goody! Well, I'll just grab the tag that says 'lots' should be next to 'heaps', to the right of 'many' and a couple over from 'a few'. "So that's...four then?" I say dryly as I reach over to the blue tag with four holes in it. I can tell this day is just going to get better and better...

Finally, Miss I-look-so-innocent-but-I'm-totally-not (Sibit for short) gets in to back me up in the ongoing war between Pest and Worker. Sibit is also tall, with long brown hair, usually tied back into a ponytail, and a look that sometimes gives the effect of a dumb blonde. As she comes in she slams down her drink bottle on the counter.

"I have already had three pests this morning - and that is only from the walk at the bottom of the stairs to the fitting room! I am way to hungover to be dealing with them right now."

"What did they want?" I reply, curious.

"Well the first wanted to know if we had a certain top over at our other store and was thoroughly shocked after I announced that I didn't know. A sigh of relief was issued soon after when I said that I was able to ring up and find out. The second only needed a hand with finding the lingerie department. As for the third, she wanted help in kitchenware and was quite annoyed when I had to find the person that actually works in that department - apparently waiting for 2 minutes didn't fit into her schedule of liposuction, a pedicure and finding a new babysitter for the little shit that was running in between her legs shouting "MUM! MUM! MUM! I WANT A BRATZ DOLL! I WANT IT NNOOOOOOOOWWWW! MMMMMUUUUUUMMMMMMM! I seriously think you should invent that customercide George, because I was about to kick that bitch to leisure and back."

George is actually pronounced 'Goorjay' with a fake French accent, thats what I tell the Pests anyway. 'George' is actually the name tag I found on the ground in Menswear a while back. Genius I say. The pests make a complaint about George...and I don't get in trouble. My real name is K. Or K for short...but you can just call me K. I'm short, but not like midget short, just well, shorter than other people. I have long black generally curly hair, and a spontaniously crazy personality to go along with it.

This is my workplace. Here are my stories.