- Master of Time
- Posts: 3761
- Joined: December 7th 2016, 2:47pm
Musings of a Salesman: Take Sixteen
Since the Saleslass quit, the staff is down to three. That's not counting the regional manager, who now is also the store manager. Obviously, part-time, because she's got a few other shops to take care of. Which means that technically we're just making do on our own. All things related to watches have become exclusively my burden. I once took pride in taking care of the matter, but when half of the bloody shop is my responsibility, it somehow became a cross that I have to bear. That's no fun at all.
The atmosphere is often tense. On top of that, one of my two female colleagues has tried to use my unfortunate "universal confidant" trait. And I was forced to refuse providing advice on the matter. No, sorry, I won't provide advice on the matter of relationships. The Prime Directive applies here, I won't interfere in natural development of alien civilizations. That's just a goddamn liability, a fucking curse, people trying to turn me into a confidant.
These days, the shopping centre doesn't get too much traffic. And so, neither does the shop. Most of the people coming in are a bloody waste of time and energy. I only had a few proper customers, the sort that buys.
One of such instances was a couple ordering wedding rings. I despise attending to wedding ring customers, most of them are a waste of a shitload of time. This time, the couple was really sympathetic, appreciated all the help, and placed their order. Fuck yeah! That there is what I call clients.
The same day, I also sold a Rado. Unfortunately for me, it was a Rado True, the open-heart version. I even gave the buyer an additional discount just so that he'd have the bracelet adjusted somewhere else. But no, I had to do that. Fuck. If any of you has ever adjusted a Rado True bracelet, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, well, count your blessings. It's a vile, deplorable contraption, and its designer should face a firing squad, the fucking sadist. Because our wonderful company won't provide us with more pins for the Rado bracelet vise, I had to do that on the block, with a loose pin in a way-too-large holder, and a wooden hammer. Many a solid "kurwa!" could be heard in the back room of the shop. I felt like I'm seconds away from a heart attack, and if not for my usual dose of propranolol regulating the thump-thump, I'd probably fucking have one. A panic attack I'd fucking have had in there for sure.
The bracelet of the True happens to have a long sleeve in the centre link, and a pin going through it via both side links. Here's the fun part, if you get it wrong, you can shatter a link, and if you shatter it, you're paying for it.
Fuck Rado for that fucking piece of fucking shite.
Also, I had a moment of appreciation for my 1952 Longines. A couple in their sixties came to the shop, the guy wanted to buy his wife a watch. They leaned towards Atlantic, and as I've been reaching for one with my left hand, they've noticed the Longines, and couldn't stop complimenting it. Oh, and they bought the Atlantic.
There are some ridiculous moments that stick with one for a while. I mean, how often do you get to free a gold chain with your arse?
A colleague was attending to two ladies, who brought in a 14K gold curb weave chain to pick a pendant for it. Alas, the conversation was taking place by the counter, where two segments of furniture meet. Part of the chain fell into the gap, and the edges of the links locked themselves against the wooden surface. There was nothing to push it up with, so my colleague, panicking, ran to the food court to borrow a long knife from one of the greasy spoon chefs. As the client was holding one end of the chain in her hand, slightly pulling on it, in deep thought I've rested my arse against the side of the segment of furniture.
"WOW! It's getting unstuck! Sir, can you do that again?"
"What, rest my bum against the furniture?"
"By all means, madame," says I.
I rested my arse against the furniture again, and again, until the chain came completely free of the trap. Minutes later, my colleague stormed in, carrying a long sushi chef's knife in her hand. Which I brought back to the sushi joint, so that she could have a rest after the stress that she's been through.
Sometimes, fancy solutions just won't work. Sometimes, all you have to do is rest your arse comfortably against whatever's at hand, and the solution will present itself.
Of course, we also had shitloads of cattle. I had an Albanian chav and his wifey trying to rush me, as they thought that by doing so, they'll speed up the service centre fixing her zirconia-set gold ring, because they can't wait, because they're getting deported. Fuck, their manners certainly qualify them for deportation. If it only was in my power, I'd have every horrible customer deported. To the North Pole, no less, so that they can fucking cool it down in the company of polar bears. Having to deal with Albanian chavs, fuck me. I wish I was Liam Neeson.
Then there was an obnoxious, obese hag, who stormed out of the shop with a rant full of "kurwa," because we didn't have what she imagined we'd have. I also had to deal with the Pandora Basilisk. The Pandora Basilisk is a lady in her thirties, obese and completely alien to the concept of using a deodorant. She orders ten things (by Pandora, a Danish fashion jewelry company) via the webshop to be delivered to our shop, and either she doesn't show up to get anything of that at all, or she does show up, buys the cheapest piece of shit, and we have to send the rest back. Of course, she happens to waste way too much of our time while choosing, and since she ordered it via the webshop, I have fuck-all out of that.
So far, no alternative job opportunities have presented themselves, and I really hope they will. The company's in chaos, as the owner died of corona. Given the fuckhead director that he put in charge some years ago, and given that he bought himself a brand new S-Class Merc while denying us our premium, he won't be missed. Not by my colleagues, and not by me. On top of that, I have enough personal problems at the moment. I mean, I'm basically on the verge of quitting on building a relationship, due to the lass having acted in a way that I can't bloody accept, and nobody should. I was absolutely furious, and quite unable to focus at work. If she does that again, that'll be it, she can go fuck herself, and as much as it'd break my heart to tell her that she has to go, if I have to, I will. Hope it won't come to that.
It's a bit like in that Johnny Cash song...
Well I've had all that I wanted
Of a lot of things I've had
And a lot more than I needed
Of some things that turned out bad
I certainly have more worries and heartaches than I could ever need.
Mr. Bloke out.
Elim Garak, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
No good deed ever goes unpunished.
Rule of Acquisition no.285