If I don’t get this out, I’ll go crazy.
For those who can’t remember from the earlier post, TFJ means “this fucking job.”
Let me just put these cards on the table: I am an excellent salesperson and customer service representative. I give a shit about making sure my customers are happy with their purchases, and always assure them of the return policy in case they are uncertain. I never suggest they take something if it doesn’t fit right or isn’t what they need. I greet every person who walks in the door, regardless of age, sex, or appearance, even if their demographic doesn’t normally match the type of customer we cater to. I have served drag queens (which in London are pretty scarce), teenagers, a woman with only one leg and foot, and more people with bunions and hammertoes than I care to remember.
So, I know I am good. There is no insecurity here, and I don’t think I should be ashamed or bashful about it. Some people are fantastic lovers and storytellers, I am a fantastic salesperson.
Last Wednesday, I worked with Sarah, who is the full-time associate. Sarah and I work every Wednesday together, as it’s Wendie’s day off, and normally, we get along great. However, she was angry with me last week, because she had left me a great long note about what I was supposed to do in the backroom, and I didn’t get to it.
I didn’t get to it, because of two things: a) I am a visually learner, and I was waiting for her to show me what to do, which she never did, and b) she stalked back to the back room and started to do it herself, leaving me on the floor. When I went back ask what she wanted me to do (three times, mind you), she didn’t answer me. So, I stayed on the floor, and served customers. I knew she wasn’t pleased, but I can’t make someone talk to me if they don’t want to.
On Friday, she approached me to “discuss” what happened on Wednesday. At first, it seemed like a discussion, but as she built up steam, it became a harangue. I tried to tell her I had been waiting for her, and helped customers because she had left the floor. She went on to tacitly accuse me of being unfair by saying hello to, and serving, more customers than she had.
She said it seems like I am frantic about my budgets in the early part of the week, and more relaxed at the end of it. She’s not wrong, that is true. I work most Saturday nights, and Saturday nights are slow, so I know I won’t sell much, so I put a little more effort in on Sundays and Mondays (and sometimes Wednesdays). However, she continued to say something that I feel is at the crux of the whole problem.
She said that when she sees me be this way, it makes her feel as if she cannot do as well. Her brain says, “why bother trying?”
Now this, I understand and feel empathy for. I know what it’s like to feel that you can’t measure up to someone else. I apologized if my actions made her feel that way, (although part of me is angry that she thinks this is supposed to be something I should care about), and told her it had never been my intention to upset her.
I wish that had been the end of her harangue, but it wasn’t.
She further went on to say that when she has reached her budget for handbags, she will “give” one to another sales associate who needs one. The implication here is that I don’t but I should–which is ludicrous as I have done it several times.
Apparently, being part of the team is forced sales sharing, and I resent it.
At this point, I started to cry. Ever since I have been in this position, I have been accused of being in it for myself. Of being “aggressive, interfering, unprofessional,” greedy, selfish, “not a team player.” I am not an insensitive person, and these words have hurt me deeply.
I just don’t know what I am going to do.
