For a while I’d been planning on using this resignation letter when I quit working at GC.
GC shenanigans– the last week.
About a month ago, a corporate stooge came in and was completely blown away by the accessories department. He couldn’t believe what an amazing job we’d done merchandising our section, so he took a bunch of pictures and said it would be in August’s employees-only magazine, as a shining example that all other stores should follow.
Yes, indeed. All other stores should follow our example, as in a matter of weeks, none of the people pictured will work there anymore. Apparently the more awesome you are at your wage-slave job, the more likely you’ll find another one that won’t make you work 7 day weeks around the holidays.
Employees have been dropping like flies recently, which means we’ve got a lot of new guys to train up. We’ve got a guy that I’m certain is the result of Ron Jeremy and The Beast’s DNA spliced together. But that’s if genesplicing scientists of the future had access to a time machine and deposited the horrible abomination 45 years in the past so as to throw the international scientific community off their trail. For those of you unfamiliar with The Beast, there was a guy in one of my classes who looked and acted like Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons, only about a million times more obnoxious. Every other sentence was a loud and flustered, “….SO AMAZING!!!!!!!!” or a dour pronunciation of “Worst….anime……ever.” As I was the only female in my Game History class, I was quite popular with guys like The Beast, who’d never seen a living, breathing girl before. However, because I am/was a nice girl, he didn’t realize at first because I didn’t recoil in revulsion that I wasn’t like the girls in porno, and I don’t just hand out blow jobs to whomever asks. After threatening to kick his ass, I made him realize his error.
This new guy has mannerisms just like The Beast. He walks around, loudly proclaiming “….SO AMAZING!!” It’s eerie, and makes me a little more glad I’m leaving soon, so I don’t have to threaten to kick some more undersocialized ass.
At GC we’ve got this thing called ‘floor deal’ slips. Basically, pretty much any sale over $200 (or anything with a serial number) is a ‘floor deal’ and the money, instead of going in the register, gets noted on a slip and stuck in the salesman’s pocket. What the benefit is of doing that, exactly, I haven’t figured out….but there must be SOME reason for it.
Regardless, a lot of salesmen were using the backs of the slips to jot notes–phone numbers, etc, and management apparently didn’t like to see us waste paper, so they printed a bunch of GC slogans on the backs of them so that we wouldn’t have a spot to write anymore.
I decided that today was arts and crafts day, and rearranged the slips to say things that I felt were more truly in line with GC culture.
Strangely enough, the definitions underneath seem to fit well with EITHER version.
Mellzah: 2, Guitar Center : 0
I bought some keyboard benches today from work. For a penny. Actually, I bought four of them. So for less than a nickel, I’ve got seats for people who visit my apartment.
Someone in the keyboard department had mentioned a week or so ago that those particular benches were marked down to a penny (from the 69.99 we normally sell them at). Today I found a nickel on the ground and decided the gods themselves must want me to buy furniture. I set up the sales ticket, and called over a manager to approve the deal. I then immediately stacked up my boxes and brought them out to my car.
A few other employees witnessed my great find, went back to purchase benches for themselves and THEIR apartments, and approximately 30 seconds later, the angry scottsman came out of his cave, angry INDEED.
“Melissa, who are you selling those benches to?”
“…I’m not selling them to anyone. I bought them for myself.”
“Those benches are not for sale! They’re for salesmen to throw in when they sell a keyboard!”
“If they’re not for sale, why are they out and tagged on the sales floor? I bought those fair and square, and they’re out of the store. They belong to me now.”
“Fair and square? Who did you buy them from? Who are you supposed to get employee purchases from?”
“Any assistant manager or above.”
“No, you’re supposed to go through ME.”
“Then you might want to inform your assistant managers and sales staff of that fact.”
He walks off in a huff, and approaches me again in my department five minutes later.
“Look, the cost on those is likely not a penny. The cost listed in the computer on anything is not the REAL cost. We could be losing money on this!”
“Yeah, but it’s not a promo price. I didn’t buy the benches at our ‘cost’. I bought them at the price that pops up when you scan them into the register. It’s the price that any customer off the street could come in and purchase it at. What’s the difference between me doing it and a customer doing it? It’s not like I purchased every single bench in the store, and was planning to re-sell them on ebay. You still have plenty of benches left–you just have four less of them now.”
“I need you to bring those back.”
“No.”
He walked off again, madder than I’ve ever seen him.
I’m not bringing the benches back. He’ll have to pry that four cent’s worth of furniture from my cold, dead fingers.