Today, a certain very large (both tall and wide) elderly man with a cane came into the store and was looking to sell several items. We were willing to buy his electric guitar and distortion pedals but had to decline taking the stun gun and police club off his hands. We have a policy of not buying or selling weapons (unsharpened samurai swords and decorative "weapons" are fine, but not the real stuff). The man kindly thanked us for our time and was very upfront about how he was going to go to a used musical instrument store to see if they could give him a better price. Well, they couldn't, and the man came back, at which point there was a police officer in the shop. This man approached the police officer and very excitedly told him "I have something I think you'll be interested in, sir." The officer was a little cranky and suspicious of these words and quickly brushed the man off, telling him they could talk later (he came into the shop to check for an item that had been reported stolen and didn't seem to appreciate the interruption). The elderly man retreated and began browsing around the store. A few minutes later, the police officer had finished his business and went outside. When the elderly man realized this, he yelled after the officer and hobbled as fast as his cane could carry him out the store, returning moments later with a very pleased expression on his face. Since he couldn't sell the stun gun or billy club, he had decided to donate it to the local police station. This must have made him feel very good about himself because he became very talkative. I imagine he was fantasizing about all the good his donated weapons would do in the hands of the stalwart local police force. While we rang up his transaction, he told us about how he'd never needed to use such weapons to protect himself or anyone else because he had been a black belt. He continued his story by declaring his hatred for "bullies and anyone who pushes around a woman or child", holding out his hands and then telling us all he had to do was squeeze a certain artery in the neck to make someone pass out if they became "too rowdy". The man's hands were very large, thick, and rough looking, and I believe that he could still choke the life out of someone even in his old age.
Another customer was also noteworthy today. The first time I saw her was during the sidewalk sale this past weekend. She came in with a telescope, looking to sell it, but left disappointed because we were not offering nearly as much money on it as she had hoped. While she was leaving, flustered, the telescope still in her hands, she paused to tell me she could never give up her telescope for such a low price and how she could get over four times the amount we offered that very moment if she had been in her home state of Tennessee. She was so flustered that I thought I'd never see her again. So, it was to my great surprise when she made a reappearance today, this time with a set of different items (2 DVD players, two tool sets, and a samurai sword). But not only did she come back, she was also very upbeat and talkative. She told us all about her love for movies and how she planned to frequent our shop so she could look through our DVDs. One of my co-workers must have been feeling a little rambunctious because he told her we would be willing to strike her a deal on DVDs, that we would sell her five DVDs for ten dollars. Unaware that this was the normal price for DVDs, the woman showered him with many thanks, at which point my co-worker smiled back at her and said we would even be willing to give her ten DVDs for twenty dollars. At this point, the woman's eyes grew very large, she gasped, and a hand even flew to her chest as if this was the best news she'd ever heard. She was totally clueless to the fact that he was not striking her a deal and that ten DVDS for twenty dollars is the same exact thing as two sets of five DVDS for ten dollars. It was kind of mean, sure, but that's what you get when you don't do your math.
30 August 2010
28 August 2010
The Sidewalk Sale
Today was a very special day down at the pawn shop because we hauled several vacuums and mini-fridges, hundreds of DVDs and CDs, several framed pictures, a number of large TVs, a couple of buckets filled with small electronics such as handheld games and MP3 speakers, various home decorations, a tote of flip-flops, and dozens of video games out into the bright sunlight and had a sidewalk sale. We had other things on sale, of course, everything from packets of water balloons to plastic shelving, but perhaps my favorite item in the entire sale was our Rascal Power Chair. Everyone helped carry out the sale items, but only one lucky employee had the honor of firing the Rascal and riding it out of the store. I admit that I was very jealous. Although, a part of me was thankful because, apparently, manning a Rascal is trickier than it looks because my co-worker kept smashing into things. He must have underestimated the power of this personal vehicle because the first thing he did after taking the helm of the Rascal was zoom straight into a counter at full speed. After a nervous laugh and making an adjustment to the Rascal's power setting, he still had troubles maneuvering the chair and kept side swiping various displays around the shop. It was a miracle he didn't break anything.
To help lure more people to the sidewalk sale, we reverted to the meagerly flashy eye-grabbing tactics of helium-filled balloons and our very own sky dancer named Bob. Bob's not the flashiest sky dancer, but he is a jolly fellow and got the job done just fine. Bob is a fifteen foot, lime green tube (sadly, he doesn't have any appendages) with brown tassels on his top which you can say simulates hair. He just bent and jumped and danced off on his own all day, but the balloons were a bit more problematic. It was a somewhat windy day and the balloons kept blowing into people's faces when they were shopping instead of enticingly bobbing in the air as we had hoped they would. At one point, one balloon was blown into something else (I think it was a bike tire) and it popped, causing a woman to scream out in fright. That was enjoyable.
There's a family that comes into the shop to look through our DVD selection about once a week, and today was their weekly visit. The family consists of a mother and father who seem a little older than usual to have a teenage son. These three spent at least an hour out under the hot sun, systematically shifting through each of our enormous DVD-filled totes. I was standing in shade the entire time and was feeling warm, but this family didn't seem to break a sweat at all.
We ended up being very busy today, and most of it was surely due to Bob, our pesky windblown balloons, and the great selection we had in our sidewalk sale. There were many people who drove past very slowly, faces up against and eyes sliding along the items we had outside, who ended up stopping to at least have a look around. We ended up selling several things we'd been sitting on a for a while and then some. But now the balloons have been popped and Bob has been lovingly tucked away into his dusty corner in the storeroom where he will slumber until our next sidewalk sale. Rest peacefully, Bob. Rest peacefully.
To help lure more people to the sidewalk sale, we reverted to the meagerly flashy eye-grabbing tactics of helium-filled balloons and our very own sky dancer named Bob. Bob's not the flashiest sky dancer, but he is a jolly fellow and got the job done just fine. Bob is a fifteen foot, lime green tube (sadly, he doesn't have any appendages) with brown tassels on his top which you can say simulates hair. He just bent and jumped and danced off on his own all day, but the balloons were a bit more problematic. It was a somewhat windy day and the balloons kept blowing into people's faces when they were shopping instead of enticingly bobbing in the air as we had hoped they would. At one point, one balloon was blown into something else (I think it was a bike tire) and it popped, causing a woman to scream out in fright. That was enjoyable.
There's a family that comes into the shop to look through our DVD selection about once a week, and today was their weekly visit. The family consists of a mother and father who seem a little older than usual to have a teenage son. These three spent at least an hour out under the hot sun, systematically shifting through each of our enormous DVD-filled totes. I was standing in shade the entire time and was feeling warm, but this family didn't seem to break a sweat at all.
We ended up being very busy today, and most of it was surely due to Bob, our pesky windblown balloons, and the great selection we had in our sidewalk sale. There were many people who drove past very slowly, faces up against and eyes sliding along the items we had outside, who ended up stopping to at least have a look around. We ended up selling several things we'd been sitting on a for a while and then some. But now the balloons have been popped and Bob has been lovingly tucked away into his dusty corner in the storeroom where he will slumber until our next sidewalk sale. Rest peacefully, Bob. Rest peacefully.
25 August 2010
You?! In Jail?! I Don't Believe It!
This morning, I found a fresh bruise on my forehead. I instantly knew when I got it. It was from yesterday at work when I was carrying a large speaker to the upstairs storage area which is composed of several long rows of tall shelves stocked with the various items we've purchased and plan on selling. At the moment, these shelves are close to overflowing with an excess of TVs, DVD players, stereo equipment, gaming consoles, musical instruments, vacuum cleaners, DVDs, video games, household items, and just about anything else you could imagine. I got the bruise when I was carrying the speaker down one of these fully stocked aisles. I had speaker out in front of me, and as it was a tall one, it had blocked my view of the ladder that had been left in the aisle and I hit a corner of the speaker on the ladder. This made the speaker smash into my forehead only moments after the store manager had noticed me carrying large items upstairs and kindly told me to "be careful". Whether she meant that I needed to be careful so I didn't hurt the merchandise or that I should be careful so that I didn't hurt myself, I'm not sure, but it appears that both parties involved are in considerable danger.
Each week we have a mandatory employee meeting to give the managers a chance to bring up anything they feel is important for everyone to know. These topics range from the weekly sales we will be having, tidbits of information or store protocol we need to brush up on, or more serious concerns. Today's more serious matters concerned workplace safety, and even though they didn't call me out on it, one such matter was a direct commentary on one of my unsafe habits. I've been known to stand on the very top of ladders that are clearly labeled "NOT A STEP" due to the increased risk of tipping over the ladder if one were to use it as a step. I have no problem of placing my feet on this warning and ignoring it. I may trip over things and walk about blindly so that speakers smash into and bruise my forehead, but I rarely fall down. I wouldn't go so far as to say my balance is equal to that of a jungle cat or the Karate Kid, but I think I do pretty well. I mean, I haven't fallen off the top rung of a ladder for over eleven years now. That's a pretty good record. But I will play along with their safety rules and hunt down a taller ladder when a shorter one will provide the necessary safety.
Somewhat related to safety is the angriest customer I've come across in my short pawn shop career. I've dealt with customers who have been annoyed, frustrated, perturbed, angry, and a whole slew of other unpleasant emotions, but today was my first encounter with an individual who was irrational with fury. He approached the pawn counter and loudly informed us that his girlfriend had sold us his Playstation 3 while he was in prison and that he wanted it back. Unfortunately, there was nothing we could do unless he first pressed official charges against his girlfriend (he kept saying "girlfriend" but I'm assuming what he really meant was ex-girlfriend, or, at least for hear sake, I hope that's what he meant). At this point, the man became very angry and began swearing. A manager asked him to leave and the irate man began to swear with much more vigor than he used to leave the shop. He was leaving very slowly, filling the shop with his ranting about how horrible our shop was and how stupid we all were and how much he hated each of us and what he thought of his "girlfriend". My manager asked him again to leave the store to which the man screamed "I am leaving, you tard!" while incorporating several foul words into his childish response. It would not have surprised me if the man had ended up breaking something or attacking someone. Fortunately, he didn't do anything so drastic. Even so, all I could think was "Wow! You?! In jail?! I don't believe it!"
Each week we have a mandatory employee meeting to give the managers a chance to bring up anything they feel is important for everyone to know. These topics range from the weekly sales we will be having, tidbits of information or store protocol we need to brush up on, or more serious concerns. Today's more serious matters concerned workplace safety, and even though they didn't call me out on it, one such matter was a direct commentary on one of my unsafe habits. I've been known to stand on the very top of ladders that are clearly labeled "NOT A STEP" due to the increased risk of tipping over the ladder if one were to use it as a step. I have no problem of placing my feet on this warning and ignoring it. I may trip over things and walk about blindly so that speakers smash into and bruise my forehead, but I rarely fall down. I wouldn't go so far as to say my balance is equal to that of a jungle cat or the Karate Kid, but I think I do pretty well. I mean, I haven't fallen off the top rung of a ladder for over eleven years now. That's a pretty good record. But I will play along with their safety rules and hunt down a taller ladder when a shorter one will provide the necessary safety.
Somewhat related to safety is the angriest customer I've come across in my short pawn shop career. I've dealt with customers who have been annoyed, frustrated, perturbed, angry, and a whole slew of other unpleasant emotions, but today was my first encounter with an individual who was irrational with fury. He approached the pawn counter and loudly informed us that his girlfriend had sold us his Playstation 3 while he was in prison and that he wanted it back. Unfortunately, there was nothing we could do unless he first pressed official charges against his girlfriend (he kept saying "girlfriend" but I'm assuming what he really meant was ex-girlfriend, or, at least for hear sake, I hope that's what he meant). At this point, the man became very angry and began swearing. A manager asked him to leave and the irate man began to swear with much more vigor than he used to leave the shop. He was leaving very slowly, filling the shop with his ranting about how horrible our shop was and how stupid we all were and how much he hated each of us and what he thought of his "girlfriend". My manager asked him again to leave the store to which the man screamed "I am leaving, you tard!" while incorporating several foul words into his childish response. It would not have surprised me if the man had ended up breaking something or attacking someone. Fortunately, he didn't do anything so drastic. Even so, all I could think was "Wow! You?! In jail?! I don't believe it!"
23 August 2010
The Traffic Gods' Devious Smile
Driving to work never takes very long, but today's trip was especially brief. I seemed to be hitting all the lights just right, nobody was getting in my way or slowing me down. The Traffic Gods were smiling upon me. Little did I know their smile was more devious than I originally realized because it seems that my especially quick drive was propelling me towards an image that would assualt my eyes and scar my mind.
The moment I entered the pawn shop, the first thing I saw was a large man whose was pulling his shirt halfway up his back so he could scratch his back. I've noticed that this method of unnecessarily removing half of one's shirt to scratch one's back while in public is becoming a common practice. Why, I may never know, but most people at least have underwear covering the portions of their body that should be covered. This man, however, did not, and several inches of his flabby, stretchmarked, hairy buttcrack was showing. Thank you sir, and thank you Traffic Gods. If you had only given me one single, measly red light, I would have missed that unsightly image! Why me?! Why?!
Perhaps this is a lesson The Traffic Gods wish to teach me, that they sometimes send red lights to diverse drivers for a purpose--keeping them from seeing disgusting buttcracks first thing in the morning, for instance. Lesson learned. The next time I find myself frustrated by having to stop for a red light, I will think of this and wonder in awe at what The Traffic Gods may be protecting me from this time.
The moment I entered the pawn shop, the first thing I saw was a large man whose was pulling his shirt halfway up his back so he could scratch his back. I've noticed that this method of unnecessarily removing half of one's shirt to scratch one's back while in public is becoming a common practice. Why, I may never know, but most people at least have underwear covering the portions of their body that should be covered. This man, however, did not, and several inches of his flabby, stretchmarked, hairy buttcrack was showing. Thank you sir, and thank you Traffic Gods. If you had only given me one single, measly red light, I would have missed that unsightly image! Why me?! Why?!
Perhaps this is a lesson The Traffic Gods wish to teach me, that they sometimes send red lights to diverse drivers for a purpose--keeping them from seeing disgusting buttcracks first thing in the morning, for instance. Lesson learned. The next time I find myself frustrated by having to stop for a red light, I will think of this and wonder in awe at what The Traffic Gods may be protecting me from this time.
20 August 2010
Behind The Pawn Counter
So far in my pawn shop career I have been working at the cash advance counter, but now I am transitioning over to the pawn counter. As far as I am concerned, this is where all the magic happens. I didn't end up spending much time behind the pawn counter today, but what precious little time I did have there was rich with quality.
When someone comes to the pawn counter, they can do either one of two things : sell their personal belongings or put them up as collateral for a high-interest loan we offer them. As one problem we often come across is that many people never return to pay back their loan and regain their personal belongings (just taking the money they received and calling that good enough), we have to safeguard ourselves from the risk of never having the loan repaid by only offering a fraction of what the item is worth based off original purchase price, depreciated value, and current condition. Unfortunately, a lot of people don't understand this necessary precaution or think their things are worth much more than they actually are. For example, one woman came into the store and was trying to pawn a white Guess purse that was accented with western style seams and patches of leopard print, a men's watch, a digital camera, and a charger for AA batteries. She wanted several hundred dollars for these few items. We offered her a fifty dollar loan, and that was even being generous. She was not happy. She kept giving us these "don't victimize me" eyes and insisting that her things were very expensive and worth much more than fifty dollars. To help decide on how much to offer on pawn transactions, we quickly price items online, but our research proved that the woman either didn't know what she was talking about or purposefully lying to us. She eventually accepted our loan offer when she realized we wouldn't budge and proceeded to tell us how much she hated her boyfriend because he was a liar. Apparently, he promised her several hundred dollars, saying she needed to wait for the money until the check cleared his bank. Needless to say, she never got the money. She kept bouncing around topics from asking us if we were hiring to telling us how she was moving to another town but she kept returning to how much she hated her boyfriend and kept growing angrier with each mention of him and his habitual lying. When she signed her contract for the loan and got her money, her mood switched and she began telling us of all the errands she needed to run--including getting anti-freeze for her car, going to the bank, and getting something to eat at McDonald's.
There was a man (we will call him Man #1) who brought in an air conditioner and set it on our counter. Not even a minute later, a second man (we will call him Man #2) came into the store with two friends, each of which were holding a television in his arms. After a moment, Man #2 looked at the air conditioner, set his TV down, moved closer to the air conditioner and began carefully looking it over, and declared "That's my air conditioner!" He very loudly announced to us, Man #1, and the rest of our customers how he had set it outside his house next to his bed (I think he was moving, otherwise I have no idea why his bed would be outside on the front lawn) and then how it had disappeared. Man #1 didn't seem too concerned about this and told us how he had obtained the air conditioner after seeing a man walking down the street with it. This man, Man #1 said, set it down and left it behind because he was tired of carrying it. Man #2 emphatically called that a lie and repeated his story of it being his and how it had disappeared. At this point, my co-worker asked them to go outside and discuss the matter in a civil manner. The two men went outside and very animatedly discussed the issue, during which time one of Man #2's friends began to provide details about the air conditioner--that it only turned on with the remote because the button was broken and wouldn't work "no matter how hard you push it" (he demonstrated this futile button push even though it wasn't plugged in) and that they had recently dropped a stick of incense down into the unit and that we would find it if we opened it up. Man #1 ended up deserting the air conditioner and Man #2 reclaimed it when he left the store.
I was very disappointed to have missed this, but I was in the back room straightening up a shelf of several hundred DVDs that had grown into a disorganized mess when this incident occurred. Apparently, there was a woman and her young child waiting in line for the pawn counter when her ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend showed up. I was told it started off as a somewhat restrained exchange of rude comments but that the trio--and the poor child caught in the middle of it all--was quickly asked to leave the store when they began yelling at each other from across the store.
This is why I got this job. Well, that and the employee discount.
When someone comes to the pawn counter, they can do either one of two things : sell their personal belongings or put them up as collateral for a high-interest loan we offer them. As one problem we often come across is that many people never return to pay back their loan and regain their personal belongings (just taking the money they received and calling that good enough), we have to safeguard ourselves from the risk of never having the loan repaid by only offering a fraction of what the item is worth based off original purchase price, depreciated value, and current condition. Unfortunately, a lot of people don't understand this necessary precaution or think their things are worth much more than they actually are. For example, one woman came into the store and was trying to pawn a white Guess purse that was accented with western style seams and patches of leopard print, a men's watch, a digital camera, and a charger for AA batteries. She wanted several hundred dollars for these few items. We offered her a fifty dollar loan, and that was even being generous. She was not happy. She kept giving us these "don't victimize me" eyes and insisting that her things were very expensive and worth much more than fifty dollars. To help decide on how much to offer on pawn transactions, we quickly price items online, but our research proved that the woman either didn't know what she was talking about or purposefully lying to us. She eventually accepted our loan offer when she realized we wouldn't budge and proceeded to tell us how much she hated her boyfriend because he was a liar. Apparently, he promised her several hundred dollars, saying she needed to wait for the money until the check cleared his bank. Needless to say, she never got the money. She kept bouncing around topics from asking us if we were hiring to telling us how she was moving to another town but she kept returning to how much she hated her boyfriend and kept growing angrier with each mention of him and his habitual lying. When she signed her contract for the loan and got her money, her mood switched and she began telling us of all the errands she needed to run--including getting anti-freeze for her car, going to the bank, and getting something to eat at McDonald's.
There was a man (we will call him Man #1) who brought in an air conditioner and set it on our counter. Not even a minute later, a second man (we will call him Man #2) came into the store with two friends, each of which were holding a television in his arms. After a moment, Man #2 looked at the air conditioner, set his TV down, moved closer to the air conditioner and began carefully looking it over, and declared "That's my air conditioner!" He very loudly announced to us, Man #1, and the rest of our customers how he had set it outside his house next to his bed (I think he was moving, otherwise I have no idea why his bed would be outside on the front lawn) and then how it had disappeared. Man #1 didn't seem too concerned about this and told us how he had obtained the air conditioner after seeing a man walking down the street with it. This man, Man #1 said, set it down and left it behind because he was tired of carrying it. Man #2 emphatically called that a lie and repeated his story of it being his and how it had disappeared. At this point, my co-worker asked them to go outside and discuss the matter in a civil manner. The two men went outside and very animatedly discussed the issue, during which time one of Man #2's friends began to provide details about the air conditioner--that it only turned on with the remote because the button was broken and wouldn't work "no matter how hard you push it" (he demonstrated this futile button push even though it wasn't plugged in) and that they had recently dropped a stick of incense down into the unit and that we would find it if we opened it up. Man #1 ended up deserting the air conditioner and Man #2 reclaimed it when he left the store.
I was very disappointed to have missed this, but I was in the back room straightening up a shelf of several hundred DVDs that had grown into a disorganized mess when this incident occurred. Apparently, there was a woman and her young child waiting in line for the pawn counter when her ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend showed up. I was told it started off as a somewhat restrained exchange of rude comments but that the trio--and the poor child caught in the middle of it all--was quickly asked to leave the store when they began yelling at each other from across the store.
This is why I got this job. Well, that and the employee discount.
18 August 2010
There Is No Way To Say This Without Offending Someone
DISCLAIMER : I hope no one takes any of these stories to be offensive. I find humor in all situations and believe everyone, myself included, should be able to laugh at him or herself.
Story, the first : The Little Person and The Large Mentally Handicapped Man
I didn't mean to, but I did a double take when I noticed the little person in the store today. It was like a reflex and it happened without me meaning to do it. I silently hoped the little person had not noticed and went about my business helping another customer. A few moments later, I heard someone shout "Don't you ever touch me again!" and turned my head just in time to see someone retreating from the little person. Of course, my first thought was "Did someone just try to pick that guy up?" The store was very full at the time and there were several douche bag looking guys in gym clothes and I instantly thought it had been one of them, but I was wrong. I later learned that a very tall and large mentally handicapped man, who is a regular customer, was the one who had tried to pick up the little person. I wonder if the little person realized he had shouted so meanly at someone who was handicapped and am not sure who I should feel more sorry for--the little person who has to put up with people trying to pick him up or the handicapped man who got yelled at for doing something he might not have realized was wrong. And even, though, I know I shouldn't, I kind of find the entire situation funny because 1) it's so ridiculous and 2) given the circumstances, and how both parties involved have their own crosses to bear, neither of them should be angry with the other.
Story, the second : KFC Encounters
The pawn shop I work at is located very close to a KFC and I decided to try the Double Down for lunch today. I made the short walk over there and entered the building to find the lobby floor spotted with clumps of white powder and an array of workers with unfortunate bodily features : the cashier had teeth that looked more like a walrus with advanced stages of gingivitis, the drive-through guy had one eye that looked inward towards his nose while the other floated around in whatever direction it wanted, and the fry cook had a cyst the size of a golf ball on his cheekbone. The cashier was not personable at all, but she did give me a free order of fries with my Double Down and for that I am thankful. The Double Down was pretty good. I'd never eaten anything so greasy in my life and tried to offset it with some fruit I'd brought from home. While I was eating, a co-worker of mine informed me that a lot of the KFC employees come over to our pawn shop to cash their payroll checks. A while back, one of these employees informed her that the store manager was worried they were going to get shut down because they had just failed their second consecutive health inspection. From what I saw, it doesn't look too likely they'll be passing their third if it's anytime soon.
Story, the third : A Child's Bare Feet Do Not Belong Anywhere Near Samurai Swords
To get to the back room where we process pawn loans, purchases, and other such transfering of goods from the store to customer or vice versa, you have to go behind the counter devoted to pawn purchases and through a set of swinging double doors. I was coming out of the back room, emerging behind the pawn counter, and looked to the left. To my surprise, there was a little boy, not more than two years old, sitting on the floor behind the counter. His feet were bare and he was resting them on the base of a three foot high stand that holds a dozen or so samurai swords. My first impulse was to pick up the boy because he 1) shouldn't be behind the counter, and 2) some of the swords were not sheathed. I, however, hesitated because an image of the boy being frightened and screaming and thrashing came into my mind and I didn't want any of that kind of trouble. Luckily, his mother came to the edge of the counter a second later and called out to her son, asking "Don't you want to come out here with me?" He gave his mother a dimissive look, turned back to the swords, and said "No." It was hilarious. His mother came behind the counter and pulled her son away from the swords. He went without a fight.
Story, the first : The Little Person and The Large Mentally Handicapped Man
I didn't mean to, but I did a double take when I noticed the little person in the store today. It was like a reflex and it happened without me meaning to do it. I silently hoped the little person had not noticed and went about my business helping another customer. A few moments later, I heard someone shout "Don't you ever touch me again!" and turned my head just in time to see someone retreating from the little person. Of course, my first thought was "Did someone just try to pick that guy up?" The store was very full at the time and there were several douche bag looking guys in gym clothes and I instantly thought it had been one of them, but I was wrong. I later learned that a very tall and large mentally handicapped man, who is a regular customer, was the one who had tried to pick up the little person. I wonder if the little person realized he had shouted so meanly at someone who was handicapped and am not sure who I should feel more sorry for--the little person who has to put up with people trying to pick him up or the handicapped man who got yelled at for doing something he might not have realized was wrong. And even, though, I know I shouldn't, I kind of find the entire situation funny because 1) it's so ridiculous and 2) given the circumstances, and how both parties involved have their own crosses to bear, neither of them should be angry with the other.
Story, the second : KFC Encounters
The pawn shop I work at is located very close to a KFC and I decided to try the Double Down for lunch today. I made the short walk over there and entered the building to find the lobby floor spotted with clumps of white powder and an array of workers with unfortunate bodily features : the cashier had teeth that looked more like a walrus with advanced stages of gingivitis, the drive-through guy had one eye that looked inward towards his nose while the other floated around in whatever direction it wanted, and the fry cook had a cyst the size of a golf ball on his cheekbone. The cashier was not personable at all, but she did give me a free order of fries with my Double Down and for that I am thankful. The Double Down was pretty good. I'd never eaten anything so greasy in my life and tried to offset it with some fruit I'd brought from home. While I was eating, a co-worker of mine informed me that a lot of the KFC employees come over to our pawn shop to cash their payroll checks. A while back, one of these employees informed her that the store manager was worried they were going to get shut down because they had just failed their second consecutive health inspection. From what I saw, it doesn't look too likely they'll be passing their third if it's anytime soon.
Story, the third : A Child's Bare Feet Do Not Belong Anywhere Near Samurai Swords
To get to the back room where we process pawn loans, purchases, and other such transfering of goods from the store to customer or vice versa, you have to go behind the counter devoted to pawn purchases and through a set of swinging double doors. I was coming out of the back room, emerging behind the pawn counter, and looked to the left. To my surprise, there was a little boy, not more than two years old, sitting on the floor behind the counter. His feet were bare and he was resting them on the base of a three foot high stand that holds a dozen or so samurai swords. My first impulse was to pick up the boy because he 1) shouldn't be behind the counter, and 2) some of the swords were not sheathed. I, however, hesitated because an image of the boy being frightened and screaming and thrashing came into my mind and I didn't want any of that kind of trouble. Luckily, his mother came to the edge of the counter a second later and called out to her son, asking "Don't you want to come out here with me?" He gave his mother a dimissive look, turned back to the swords, and said "No." It was hilarious. His mother came behind the counter and pulled her son away from the swords. He went without a fight.
12 August 2010
Justin Bieber's Angry Twin, Hairy Nostril Man, and The Completely Inappropriate Guy
Today brought some ridiculous customers into the pawn shop. I will tell you about three of them.
Ridiculous Customer #1 : Justin Bieber's Angry Twin
The description tells you everything you need to know about this customer. He must have been at least fifteen but looked like Justin Bieber in the way that it was painfully obvious that puberty had not hit him yet. The moment he walked through the doors he started cursing loudly and telling his two friends how much he hated the store because our prices were too high and we didn't pay him enough money when we bought something from him. I was dusting some DVD box sets and he even said "Yeah! You heard me!" in my direction to prove how tough he was. After roaming around the store for a few minutes, the three of them circled the DVD racks and started searching through them. They were talking about which movies they should get, American Pie, Final Destination, and then the thought came to me, "I don't think these kids aren't seventeen. Can I sell them R-rated movies?" The person I asked said he wasn't sure and said I probably shouldn't just to be safe. So when Justin and his two friends came over with Final Destination 3, I asked for ID. Justin suggested his taller friend buy it. I asked this taller friend if he was 17 and he just shrugged and said "I don't know." I asked him if he really didn't know how old he was, looked at his ID, found him to be 16, and then told them I couldn't sell them R-rated movies. They returned to the DVD rack and looked through them a little longer but ended up leaving without buying anything, Justin talking loudly about how much he hated the store. When the manager returned from his errands, I asked if we could sell R-rated movies to kids under seventeen. As it turns out, we can sell them to kids under seventeen and we have no official policy on the matter. Oh, well.
Ridiculous Customer #2 : Hairy Nostril Man
Unlike the first ridiculous customer of the day, this man had hit puberty and quite a few years ago. He approached me and informed me that he was looking for a lawn mower. At the time, we only had one available and it was locked up outside with the bikes. I accompanied him outside, showed him the price, and then watched him scowl. I admit that I even though it was overpriced, but I assured him that we could knock some money off of it and that I just had to ask my manager how much we could do. He debated if it was worth haggling over, during which time I noticed the long, thick hair that stiffly stuck out of his nostrils like dirty toothbrushes. I looked away, disgusted, but couldn't stop from stealing glance after glance. I have no idea how one lets their nose hair get that bad or what kind of monster his mother mated with to supply the genetics that allowed him to grow such revolting quantities of nose hair. It defied all natural laws and hygienic standards. He didn't buy the lawn mower even though he probably could've used it to tame those nose hairs.
Ridiculous Customer #3 : The Completely Inappropriate Guy
This man's tale actually beings yesterday when he came into the store with an Ipad in an orange case and tried to sell it. He could've done it, too, if he would've had ID. But as he didn't have ID at the time, the pawn counter employees had to refuse to purchase it. (It is a law that all people selling items must provide ID, this gives us a way of tracking them down if the item ends up being stolen.) Today, three teenagers came into the store and they had the same Ipad in the same orange protective case. The pawn employee recognized it and thought it was fishy that two people were claiming that the same thing was theirs to sell. She refused to buy the Ipad. Minutes later, the man from yesterday came in and started making a scene. He was furious that he couldn't get the Ipad sold. He tried to argue his way into making us buy it, but failed repeatedly, and then decided to start telling people not to shop at our store because he was going to open another pawn shop which would be much better and started handing out business cards to our customers. We asked him to stop. He then demanded to speak to the manager. The manager wasn't in the store at the time, but the man was so persistent that we ended up calling one of the owners and had him speak with him. After that, the man calmed down, but then he began to harass the female employee who had denied buying his Ipad, telling her how pretty she was and that he owed her a six pack of beer for causing so much trouble. He even went so far as to write down his phone number and address, give it to her, and then tell her to come over for a good time. He was asked to leave. He left the store but we discovered that he was hanging out in the parking lot with the teenagers that had also tried to sell the Ipad. Whenever the working manager went outside, the man would walk off the property but then come right back. This happened several times. Finally, the man left the property and didn't return.
What a day.
Ridiculous Customer #1 : Justin Bieber's Angry Twin
The description tells you everything you need to know about this customer. He must have been at least fifteen but looked like Justin Bieber in the way that it was painfully obvious that puberty had not hit him yet. The moment he walked through the doors he started cursing loudly and telling his two friends how much he hated the store because our prices were too high and we didn't pay him enough money when we bought something from him. I was dusting some DVD box sets and he even said "Yeah! You heard me!" in my direction to prove how tough he was. After roaming around the store for a few minutes, the three of them circled the DVD racks and started searching through them. They were talking about which movies they should get, American Pie, Final Destination, and then the thought came to me, "I don't think these kids aren't seventeen. Can I sell them R-rated movies?" The person I asked said he wasn't sure and said I probably shouldn't just to be safe. So when Justin and his two friends came over with Final Destination 3, I asked for ID. Justin suggested his taller friend buy it. I asked this taller friend if he was 17 and he just shrugged and said "I don't know." I asked him if he really didn't know how old he was, looked at his ID, found him to be 16, and then told them I couldn't sell them R-rated movies. They returned to the DVD rack and looked through them a little longer but ended up leaving without buying anything, Justin talking loudly about how much he hated the store. When the manager returned from his errands, I asked if we could sell R-rated movies to kids under seventeen. As it turns out, we can sell them to kids under seventeen and we have no official policy on the matter. Oh, well.
Ridiculous Customer #2 : Hairy Nostril Man
Unlike the first ridiculous customer of the day, this man had hit puberty and quite a few years ago. He approached me and informed me that he was looking for a lawn mower. At the time, we only had one available and it was locked up outside with the bikes. I accompanied him outside, showed him the price, and then watched him scowl. I admit that I even though it was overpriced, but I assured him that we could knock some money off of it and that I just had to ask my manager how much we could do. He debated if it was worth haggling over, during which time I noticed the long, thick hair that stiffly stuck out of his nostrils like dirty toothbrushes. I looked away, disgusted, but couldn't stop from stealing glance after glance. I have no idea how one lets their nose hair get that bad or what kind of monster his mother mated with to supply the genetics that allowed him to grow such revolting quantities of nose hair. It defied all natural laws and hygienic standards. He didn't buy the lawn mower even though he probably could've used it to tame those nose hairs.
Ridiculous Customer #3 : The Completely Inappropriate Guy
This man's tale actually beings yesterday when he came into the store with an Ipad in an orange case and tried to sell it. He could've done it, too, if he would've had ID. But as he didn't have ID at the time, the pawn counter employees had to refuse to purchase it. (It is a law that all people selling items must provide ID, this gives us a way of tracking them down if the item ends up being stolen.) Today, three teenagers came into the store and they had the same Ipad in the same orange protective case. The pawn employee recognized it and thought it was fishy that two people were claiming that the same thing was theirs to sell. She refused to buy the Ipad. Minutes later, the man from yesterday came in and started making a scene. He was furious that he couldn't get the Ipad sold. He tried to argue his way into making us buy it, but failed repeatedly, and then decided to start telling people not to shop at our store because he was going to open another pawn shop which would be much better and started handing out business cards to our customers. We asked him to stop. He then demanded to speak to the manager. The manager wasn't in the store at the time, but the man was so persistent that we ended up calling one of the owners and had him speak with him. After that, the man calmed down, but then he began to harass the female employee who had denied buying his Ipad, telling her how pretty she was and that he owed her a six pack of beer for causing so much trouble. He even went so far as to write down his phone number and address, give it to her, and then tell her to come over for a good time. He was asked to leave. He left the store but we discovered that he was hanging out in the parking lot with the teenagers that had also tried to sell the Ipad. Whenever the working manager went outside, the man would walk off the property but then come right back. This happened several times. Finally, the man left the property and didn't return.
What a day.
10 August 2010
Nine Hours of Country Music = RANT
Dealing with a small stack of paper work should be expected when starting a new job. This is usually taken care of on the first day of work, but mine was on the seventh (yesterday). I read through the typical forms--the company policies, the work duties, the sexual harassment forms, etc, and it was during this time that I found out it was a requirement that music be softly played through the store's intercom system during all open business hours. Yes, it is an official company policy to have music playing. That was interesting, but not as interesting as the selection of music I have heard thus far during my pawn shop career.
The day's genre seems to be decided by spinning a wheel because there is no coherent theme or tone I have yet been able to detect in the store's music. There has been Top 40 Hits, rock that I probably would not have played in a work place (Rob Zombie songs with long stretches of sex noises in them), traditional Irish music, but today I was subjected to nine hours of country music.
My parents listen to nothing but country, so I've had a lot of exposure to it growing up, and I have respect for a lot of country artists. And even though I don't purposefully listen to country music, there is a very little, hardly worth mentioning, microscopic swelling in my heart when George Straight, Garth Brooks, or Reba McEntire infiltrate my eardrums. That small group of singers aside, I find the majority of country to be so bad that it's almost physically painful to listen to. The most offensive kinds of country music are the pop/rock/country cross-genre and the overly sentimental songs. Rascal Flatts can go to hell and I don't want to hear about how where you come from rain is a good thing because it makes whiskey producing corn that ultimately gets your woman drunk and feeling a little frisky. I don't want to hear about how much you loved learning how to drive with your father, and I sure as hell don't want to put up with country singers who are delusional enough to think they're rockstars. There are some very good country songs out there, but the majority are too wrapped up in either feeling sorry about something, being sentimental to the point where most normal people should want to vomit, or trying to make their music appeal to wider audiences so they can make more money (cough--Taylor Swift--cough). Of course, this all is just my opinion and personal taste in music, but I hope there will not be another country music day for a long time. I'm not sure I could take it.
The day's genre seems to be decided by spinning a wheel because there is no coherent theme or tone I have yet been able to detect in the store's music. There has been Top 40 Hits, rock that I probably would not have played in a work place (Rob Zombie songs with long stretches of sex noises in them), traditional Irish music, but today I was subjected to nine hours of country music.
My parents listen to nothing but country, so I've had a lot of exposure to it growing up, and I have respect for a lot of country artists. And even though I don't purposefully listen to country music, there is a very little, hardly worth mentioning, microscopic swelling in my heart when George Straight, Garth Brooks, or Reba McEntire infiltrate my eardrums. That small group of singers aside, I find the majority of country to be so bad that it's almost physically painful to listen to. The most offensive kinds of country music are the pop/rock/country cross-genre and the overly sentimental songs. Rascal Flatts can go to hell and I don't want to hear about how where you come from rain is a good thing because it makes whiskey producing corn that ultimately gets your woman drunk and feeling a little frisky. I don't want to hear about how much you loved learning how to drive with your father, and I sure as hell don't want to put up with country singers who are delusional enough to think they're rockstars. There are some very good country songs out there, but the majority are too wrapped up in either feeling sorry about something, being sentimental to the point where most normal people should want to vomit, or trying to make their music appeal to wider audiences so they can make more money (cough--Taylor Swift--cough). Of course, this all is just my opinion and personal taste in music, but I hope there will not be another country music day for a long time. I'm not sure I could take it.
09 August 2010
Powers of Persuasion
Apparently, the pawn shop I work for has many regulars. One of them called the store today and I had the pleasure of answering the phone when he did. I recognized his voice and jittery speech mannerisms immediately and knew it was going to be an interesting conversation. He first tried to get me to pass him off to one of the more seasoned employees with whom he is more familiar, but as they were busy helping customers I offered my assistance and he accepted. This is more or less how our conversation went.
Customer: "Would you guys be interested in buying a surround sound digital converter output box?"
Me: "Uh. Probably. We buy just about everything. Did you say surround sound?"
Customer: "Yeah. It's a surround sound digital converter output box. I have no idea what it is."
This is when I wondered why this man had an item when he had no idea what it was. I imagined him rummaging through a dumpster and pulling out something large and heavy and thinking "Ooooo. I could sell this!"
Me: "Did you say it has something to do with surround sound?"
Customer: "Yeah. It is a surround sound digital converter output box, but I'm not sure what it does."
Me: "Well, I would think it would have to be a part of a surround sound system."
Customer: "Yeah! I think you hook it up and it enhances the sound, you know?"
Me: "Uh. Maybe. But why do you have it if you don't know what it does?"
This was to satisfy my curiosity as to how he had obtained this mysterious item.
Customer: "Oh. Well, they're just selling it here and it seems like a pretty good deal and I was wondering if I should get it."
Dumpster theory was out, but now I was curious as to who was selling this man strange electronic equipment. An image of an open car trunk and broken electronics being sold by some scum bag entered my mind.
Me: "Okay. Well, I think it's the part of a surround sound system where you hook up the speakers. Look on the back of it. Are there hook ups for speakers? They might be a bunch of different colors."
Customer: "Uh. Yeah. Yeah. It's not the wire kind with the thing you push with your thumb, but it's got hook ups for A/V cords. It says 'rear speaker', 'front speaker', 'subwoofer'. Yeah. Yeah."
Me: "Are there speakers with it?"
Customer: "No. But I was wondering if I got this--because it's so cheap--if you guys would want it. It's a surround sound digital output converter. I think it enhances the sound when you plug in the speakers. Would you guys be interested in something like that?"
That's when I got it. He wanted to buy something and then turn around and sell it to us for a profit. It then became my goal to dissuade this man from buying this item and trying to sell it to us. We do have similar items, but we have plenty of them. It would have been much better if the item had been accompanied by the appropriate set of speakers, but since it wasn't, I didn't think we'd want to bother. He would have been wasting his money buying the thing and then our time when we had to tell him we didn't want it.
Me: "We probably would take it if it had the speakers. But if they're not even selling the speakers and you're not sure of what it even does, I wouldn't buy it."
Customer: "No?"
Me: "No. I mean, you can't even test it to see if it works without the speakers. So, really it's just one part of an incomplete set. I wouldn't buy it."
Customer: "Oh. Okay. Yeah, I don't think should buy it. It says it only gives out 30 amps. That doesn't sound right, does it?"
Me: "No."
Customer: "That wouldn't be very loud, huh? That can't be right."
Me: "Yeah. Something's not right with that."
Customer: "Uh. Yeah. Uh. I don't think I should buy this."
Me: "I don't think you should buy it either."
Customer: "Yeah. Yeah. I don't think I will. Thanks for your help.
I told the man that he was welcome, but what I was really thinking was that I should have been thanking him for entertaining me for the past couple of minutes. I was also very pleased with myself that I had dissuaded the man against buying the thing and then trying to sell it to us. I told my fellow co-workers about it and they told me that this is pretty much all the man does, buy things and then try to make a profit by reselling. Not very steady income if you ask me, but whatever. At least he'll provide some interesting stories every now and then.
Customer: "Would you guys be interested in buying a surround sound digital converter output box?"
Me: "Uh. Probably. We buy just about everything. Did you say surround sound?"
Customer: "Yeah. It's a surround sound digital converter output box. I have no idea what it is."
This is when I wondered why this man had an item when he had no idea what it was. I imagined him rummaging through a dumpster and pulling out something large and heavy and thinking "Ooooo. I could sell this!"
Me: "Did you say it has something to do with surround sound?"
Customer: "Yeah. It is a surround sound digital converter output box, but I'm not sure what it does."
Me: "Well, I would think it would have to be a part of a surround sound system."
Customer: "Yeah! I think you hook it up and it enhances the sound, you know?"
Me: "Uh. Maybe. But why do you have it if you don't know what it does?"
This was to satisfy my curiosity as to how he had obtained this mysterious item.
Customer: "Oh. Well, they're just selling it here and it seems like a pretty good deal and I was wondering if I should get it."
Dumpster theory was out, but now I was curious as to who was selling this man strange electronic equipment. An image of an open car trunk and broken electronics being sold by some scum bag entered my mind.
Me: "Okay. Well, I think it's the part of a surround sound system where you hook up the speakers. Look on the back of it. Are there hook ups for speakers? They might be a bunch of different colors."
Customer: "Uh. Yeah. Yeah. It's not the wire kind with the thing you push with your thumb, but it's got hook ups for A/V cords. It says 'rear speaker', 'front speaker', 'subwoofer'. Yeah. Yeah."
Me: "Are there speakers with it?"
Customer: "No. But I was wondering if I got this--because it's so cheap--if you guys would want it. It's a surround sound digital output converter. I think it enhances the sound when you plug in the speakers. Would you guys be interested in something like that?"
That's when I got it. He wanted to buy something and then turn around and sell it to us for a profit. It then became my goal to dissuade this man from buying this item and trying to sell it to us. We do have similar items, but we have plenty of them. It would have been much better if the item had been accompanied by the appropriate set of speakers, but since it wasn't, I didn't think we'd want to bother. He would have been wasting his money buying the thing and then our time when we had to tell him we didn't want it.
Me: "We probably would take it if it had the speakers. But if they're not even selling the speakers and you're not sure of what it even does, I wouldn't buy it."
Customer: "No?"
Me: "No. I mean, you can't even test it to see if it works without the speakers. So, really it's just one part of an incomplete set. I wouldn't buy it."
Customer: "Oh. Okay. Yeah, I don't think should buy it. It says it only gives out 30 amps. That doesn't sound right, does it?"
Me: "No."
Customer: "That wouldn't be very loud, huh? That can't be right."
Me: "Yeah. Something's not right with that."
Customer: "Uh. Yeah. Uh. I don't think I should buy this."
Me: "I don't think you should buy it either."
Customer: "Yeah. Yeah. I don't think I will. Thanks for your help.
I told the man that he was welcome, but what I was really thinking was that I should have been thanking him for entertaining me for the past couple of minutes. I was also very pleased with myself that I had dissuaded the man against buying the thing and then trying to sell it to us. I told my fellow co-workers about it and they told me that this is pretty much all the man does, buy things and then try to make a profit by reselling. Not very steady income if you ask me, but whatever. At least he'll provide some interesting stories every now and then.
07 August 2010
The Day Of The Disgruntled
Today was a pretty relaxed day. I only worked six hours, I felt much more confident running the cash register, and--to my surprise--there were no major organizational tasks to complete (well, I should say that no such tasks were assigned, there are more things that need organizing around that place than you would believe). I was even sharp enough to realize that there had been three DVDS of the sixth seasons of The Simpsons placed in the tenth season box when a woman was trying to buy the tenth season. The woman was very annoyed about the entire mix up and showed no appreciation for me saving her having to discover the mistake the hard way when she got home and tried to watch the DVDs, but that didn't matter. I felt really good about myself for providing such excellent customer service, but, at the same time, I was also a little ashamed for possessing such nerdy trivia.
In what may seem contradictory to my previous statement about having such an easy day, today also seemed to be the day of disgruntled customers. Perhaps that says something about my state of mind or the type of person I am: that I can have a great day at work even though several customers were raising a stink. Granted, the stinks were over ridiculous things. As I just mentioned, there was the woman who was angry because of The Simpson DVD mix up. There was also this one guy who was returning something and was very mad that he couldn't get cash back. He kept insisting that he was told he could receive cash back, but there is no way anyone told him that because we only offer in-store credit or an exchange for a different item and we tell them this at the time of their purchases. There was also a woman who called on the phone and was very upset that the price at which the store buys DVDs from customers went from $1.50 down to $1.00. Another woman was frustrated because she was unsure about what type of items we buy from customers, and yet another woman turned to me and started to complain because she had only received three yellow Mike and Ikes for a quarter from our candy coin machine and she thought it was a rip off. I just smiled at her and laughed a little and told her she must not have very good luck to get three yellows. I thought my joking comment would have lightened the mood, but she glared even more harshly and then turned and walked away. A moment later I heard her complain to her husband that the candy was stale. I admit that overhearing this gave me satisfaction. It's too bad the man who swore at me over the phone yesterday for not being able to appraise his PS3 was not aware that all the angry people were supposed to harass me and my co-workers today and not yesterday. Really, none of this bothered me. It's impossible to make everyone happy, but their unhappiness gives me something entertaining to catch my attention.
Yesterday, a boxed set of two Larry The Cable Guy pint glasses was priced at $2.99 and placed out on display. I didn't expect them to remain in the store for more than twenty-four hours, and I was right. Imagine that. God bless our clientele.
In what may seem contradictory to my previous statement about having such an easy day, today also seemed to be the day of disgruntled customers. Perhaps that says something about my state of mind or the type of person I am: that I can have a great day at work even though several customers were raising a stink. Granted, the stinks were over ridiculous things. As I just mentioned, there was the woman who was angry because of The Simpson DVD mix up. There was also this one guy who was returning something and was very mad that he couldn't get cash back. He kept insisting that he was told he could receive cash back, but there is no way anyone told him that because we only offer in-store credit or an exchange for a different item and we tell them this at the time of their purchases. There was also a woman who called on the phone and was very upset that the price at which the store buys DVDs from customers went from $1.50 down to $1.00. Another woman was frustrated because she was unsure about what type of items we buy from customers, and yet another woman turned to me and started to complain because she had only received three yellow Mike and Ikes for a quarter from our candy coin machine and she thought it was a rip off. I just smiled at her and laughed a little and told her she must not have very good luck to get three yellows. I thought my joking comment would have lightened the mood, but she glared even more harshly and then turned and walked away. A moment later I heard her complain to her husband that the candy was stale. I admit that overhearing this gave me satisfaction. It's too bad the man who swore at me over the phone yesterday for not being able to appraise his PS3 was not aware that all the angry people were supposed to harass me and my co-workers today and not yesterday. Really, none of this bothered me. It's impossible to make everyone happy, but their unhappiness gives me something entertaining to catch my attention.
Yesterday, a boxed set of two Larry The Cable Guy pint glasses was priced at $2.99 and placed out on display. I didn't expect them to remain in the store for more than twenty-four hours, and I was right. Imagine that. God bless our clientele.
06 August 2010
Dirty Tip Money
One thing that has really surprised me about my new job is how courteous we are required to be to the clientele. I wasn't expecting it to be okay to be rude to customers, but I can honestly say that we really go out of our way to be nice. We try to offer a friendly greetings and offers of assistance to everyone that comes in and we even hand out free cold bottles of water. I think it's a great thing, the level of customer service we maintain, but it can sometimes be a little strenuous. Today, for example, I found myself helping load a 32-inch tube television into a very small car. It was heavy and awkward and we couldn't close the door the entire way because pushing the television in any further would have made it hit the steering wheel. When I saw that the seat belts were the kind that ran along a track on the door, I had an idea. Being the innovative individual that I am, I lashed the door shut by taking the seat belt and wrapping it around the passenger seat headrest twice. It wasn't a very tight fit, but if he drove carefully he shouldn't have had any problems. Anyway, after that ordeal was over, the woman who purchased the television was so kind enough as to break a twenty dollar bill and give me five dollars for my troubles. I was really excited about this, but when I realized that one of my managers was giving me a strange look I realized that I probably shouldn't have taken the offered tip. I asked to verify, still hoping it would be okay for me to keep my tip, but as it turns out, we aren't supposed to take tips for helping load things into cars and he suggested that I put the extra cash in the drawer. I did as he suggested because when it comes to breaking protocol with money, I don't do it. Anything dealing with money in the work setting makes me nervous and I don't want any trouble, definitely not over five bucks. I think tips are a great way to show appreciation and it made me feel really good to have received such a large tip, too bad it was dirty money and I wasn't able to keep it.
A while after forfeiting my tip, I carried several DVD players up to the second level of the backroom for safe keeping until we would have space to display them out on the show room floor. But when I found the shelf where the DVD players were kept, it appeared to already be completely full. When I reported this to a fellow co-worker, I was suprised to find out that this shelf should actually be layered three rows deep. After standing on a ladder, I found that there was plenty of space further back on the shelf and I just had to move the ones in the front row to fill in the back two rows to make room for the additional players I had. Moving these players into the correct place required me to move several of them out of the way, climb from the ladder onto the shelf (which was very sturdy), and then carefully start shuffling the DVD players around so that the shelf was filled from back to front. Once again, I was amazed by the sheer quantity of items we had. There must have been close to a hundred--if not more--DVD players. But just in case moving DVD players around wasn't thrilling enough, the task was made a bit more interesting by having the shelf I was kneeling on and filling overlooking an open area that looked down onto the first floor. It would have been very easy to knock any number of the players--or myself--over the edge to fall two stories and then crash on the cement floor below. This thought was not pleasant. But I managed to complete the task without sending anything over the edge. The thought of something or many somethings becoming unbalanced hours later was very unpleasant, but I didn't pay much heed to it because the back row was packed pretty tightly. Unless there's an earthquake, I don't think there will be any problems.
One thing that I realized today is that some people have no shame when it comes to selling their personal belongings. A co-worker of mine cleaned out a small carpet cleaner that had mold growing among the dirty water and clumps of hair that the seller had left in it. It was very rank. I personally dealt with this problem when I lugged a pair of miniature fridges down from the second floor storage to the show room. Before we officially put things on display for sale, we make sure they are clean (because they may have been sitting in storage for a while and have collected a healthy layer of dust, but mostly people don't clean their stuff when they pawn or sell it to us--thanks guys). Both fridges I brought down from storage were dirty. Only one of them was filthy (flecks of dried food and who knows what else everywhere). The second mini-fridge was a bit cleaner but had patches of fuzzy black mold growing in it. They both cleaned up just fine, and it didn't really take that long. I suggested we start a policy that penalizes people for selling us dirty items--reduce the payout by ten percent, perhaps, but I was only half serious. I just thought it'd be funny to tell people their stuff was dirty and that they'd have to pay the consequences for their laziness. After discussing this with a seasoned co-worker, she told me that since she had started working the pawn counter that she has stopped biting her nails because she touches dirty things all day long and doesn't like the thought of what may be lurking underneath her fingernails getting into her mouth. I guess that would be the bright side of this epidemic of having to cheerfully handle dirty things, it'll help you break a trivial bad habit. What a silver lining.
A while after forfeiting my tip, I carried several DVD players up to the second level of the backroom for safe keeping until we would have space to display them out on the show room floor. But when I found the shelf where the DVD players were kept, it appeared to already be completely full. When I reported this to a fellow co-worker, I was suprised to find out that this shelf should actually be layered three rows deep. After standing on a ladder, I found that there was plenty of space further back on the shelf and I just had to move the ones in the front row to fill in the back two rows to make room for the additional players I had. Moving these players into the correct place required me to move several of them out of the way, climb from the ladder onto the shelf (which was very sturdy), and then carefully start shuffling the DVD players around so that the shelf was filled from back to front. Once again, I was amazed by the sheer quantity of items we had. There must have been close to a hundred--if not more--DVD players. But just in case moving DVD players around wasn't thrilling enough, the task was made a bit more interesting by having the shelf I was kneeling on and filling overlooking an open area that looked down onto the first floor. It would have been very easy to knock any number of the players--or myself--over the edge to fall two stories and then crash on the cement floor below. This thought was not pleasant. But I managed to complete the task without sending anything over the edge. The thought of something or many somethings becoming unbalanced hours later was very unpleasant, but I didn't pay much heed to it because the back row was packed pretty tightly. Unless there's an earthquake, I don't think there will be any problems.
One thing that I realized today is that some people have no shame when it comes to selling their personal belongings. A co-worker of mine cleaned out a small carpet cleaner that had mold growing among the dirty water and clumps of hair that the seller had left in it. It was very rank. I personally dealt with this problem when I lugged a pair of miniature fridges down from the second floor storage to the show room. Before we officially put things on display for sale, we make sure they are clean (because they may have been sitting in storage for a while and have collected a healthy layer of dust, but mostly people don't clean their stuff when they pawn or sell it to us--thanks guys). Both fridges I brought down from storage were dirty. Only one of them was filthy (flecks of dried food and who knows what else everywhere). The second mini-fridge was a bit cleaner but had patches of fuzzy black mold growing in it. They both cleaned up just fine, and it didn't really take that long. I suggested we start a policy that penalizes people for selling us dirty items--reduce the payout by ten percent, perhaps, but I was only half serious. I just thought it'd be funny to tell people their stuff was dirty and that they'd have to pay the consequences for their laziness. After discussing this with a seasoned co-worker, she told me that since she had started working the pawn counter that she has stopped biting her nails because she touches dirty things all day long and doesn't like the thought of what may be lurking underneath her fingernails getting into her mouth. I guess that would be the bright side of this epidemic of having to cheerfully handle dirty things, it'll help you break a trivial bad habit. What a silver lining.
05 August 2010
Remote Overload
Working at a pawn shop often requires you to sign your initials on random pieces of paperwork throughout the day, and today a co-worker noticed what my initials were and laughed to himself. He then informed me that someone who had previously worked had the same initials as me. Apparently, this previous co-worker was very mischievous. I was told of one instance when a $1400 road bike had been on display in the shop, propped up on one of those bike stands that holds up the rear tire just off the floor. One day, this past employee decided it would be fun to pedal this expensive bike with his hands as fast as he possibly could. Apparently, his efforts were enough to make the rear wheel pop off the frame and zoom across the shop. What made it even more dramatic was how the wheel slid behind a stand of computers and unplugged several of them. By the grace of the Pawn Shop Gods, nothing was broken. There was, however, a lingering smell of burnt rubber from where the spinning wheel had just barely rubbed against the floor at an accelerated rate. I admit that I am somewhat disappointed that this individual no longer works there because I'm sure he would have provided plenty of entertainment.
I was given another organizational task today. This involved sorting through the couple dozen IPods we had displayed in one of the glass cases. I was to remove any repeats of the same IPod, reorganize the display, and then put out any additional models that we did not already have out. In order to save time running each individual repeat IPod into the backroom for safe keeping, I ended up putting several of them into my pockets and then dumping them all at once. I felt really odd shoving IPods that weren't mine into my pockets. I felt like I was stealing, enough though I wasn't. I felt guilty and nervous like I was going to be confronted about my attempted theft. Weird, exaggerated emotional response aside, this first part of the task was relatively easy. The second part, however, was much more time tedious. I was directed to a large drawer in which there was a tangle of MP3 wall and car chargers, USB cords, and headphones. There was also a surprising number of IPods, MP3 players of various brands, Nintendo DS consoles, and GPS units. My job, as you may have guessed, was to organize this drawer. While I enjoy these little tasks of organizing things and how they get me away from having to deal with customers, it is very curious how I have been the only one being given such chores. Perhaps my boss has noticed my strong organizational skills. Maybe I'm being given all the crap jobs because I'm the new guy. I suppose it doesn't matter which because I'm still getting paid and do enjoy the work (and I don't think these assignments are made out of spite, everyone has been really nice so far).
Towards the end of the day, I remembered that I was supposed to stock headphones in one of the display cases hours ago. The extra headphones were stored in a large orange container in the back, so I got the container down from a really tall shelf, stocked the case, and then was going to return the container back to the place where I had gotten it. At that moment, a co-worker who had been cleaning and organizing the back (ah, it's not just me that's given such jobs) told me to put it somewhere else, only this somewhere else was currently occupied by several paper bags. I was told these bags were trash, and when I went to help dispose of said bags, I found that two of them were completely filled with television remote controls and another one had been halfway filled. Two and a half paper grocery bags worth of remotes and we were throwing them all away. It's at times like these that I wish I was an artist. I could have made something very awesome with all of those remotes! There have been times when I've collected weird things such as egg cartons or twisty ties, telling myself that I'd make something really cool out of them. I really intended to do this, but these collected items always ended up sitting in my room for months, the collections growing steadily larger and larger until I finally admitted defeat and either threw away or recycled them. I could have taken those remotes home. I mean, I could have done something with them. How often do you come across that many remotes for the taking? But I didn't take them because I knew that they would have met the same fate as all the other collections I had intended to turn into art. It was a sad moment, seeing all those remotes being swallowed up by black plastic, but I was strong and did not show my true emotions of disappointment and sorrow.
I was given another organizational task today. This involved sorting through the couple dozen IPods we had displayed in one of the glass cases. I was to remove any repeats of the same IPod, reorganize the display, and then put out any additional models that we did not already have out. In order to save time running each individual repeat IPod into the backroom for safe keeping, I ended up putting several of them into my pockets and then dumping them all at once. I felt really odd shoving IPods that weren't mine into my pockets. I felt like I was stealing, enough though I wasn't. I felt guilty and nervous like I was going to be confronted about my attempted theft. Weird, exaggerated emotional response aside, this first part of the task was relatively easy. The second part, however, was much more time tedious. I was directed to a large drawer in which there was a tangle of MP3 wall and car chargers, USB cords, and headphones. There was also a surprising number of IPods, MP3 players of various brands, Nintendo DS consoles, and GPS units. My job, as you may have guessed, was to organize this drawer. While I enjoy these little tasks of organizing things and how they get me away from having to deal with customers, it is very curious how I have been the only one being given such chores. Perhaps my boss has noticed my strong organizational skills. Maybe I'm being given all the crap jobs because I'm the new guy. I suppose it doesn't matter which because I'm still getting paid and do enjoy the work (and I don't think these assignments are made out of spite, everyone has been really nice so far).
Towards the end of the day, I remembered that I was supposed to stock headphones in one of the display cases hours ago. The extra headphones were stored in a large orange container in the back, so I got the container down from a really tall shelf, stocked the case, and then was going to return the container back to the place where I had gotten it. At that moment, a co-worker who had been cleaning and organizing the back (ah, it's not just me that's given such jobs) told me to put it somewhere else, only this somewhere else was currently occupied by several paper bags. I was told these bags were trash, and when I went to help dispose of said bags, I found that two of them were completely filled with television remote controls and another one had been halfway filled. Two and a half paper grocery bags worth of remotes and we were throwing them all away. It's at times like these that I wish I was an artist. I could have made something very awesome with all of those remotes! There have been times when I've collected weird things such as egg cartons or twisty ties, telling myself that I'd make something really cool out of them. I really intended to do this, but these collected items always ended up sitting in my room for months, the collections growing steadily larger and larger until I finally admitted defeat and either threw away or recycled them. I could have taken those remotes home. I mean, I could have done something with them. How often do you come across that many remotes for the taking? But I didn't take them because I knew that they would have met the same fate as all the other collections I had intended to turn into art. It was a sad moment, seeing all those remotes being swallowed up by black plastic, but I was strong and did not show my true emotions of disappointment and sorrow.
04 August 2010
The Need For Kickstands
I was given a key today. It opens several of the glass cases around the shop. I no longer have to ask a fellow co-worker to borrow their keys. I now have the power to open cases on demand and remove items such as digital cameras, Ipods, gaming units, watches, GPS units, belt buckles, portable DVD players, guitar distortion pedals, and a whole slew of other things to show inquiring customers. It makes me feel kind of special. How many people get to open those cases? Not many. Yeah. I'm pretty much the man.
As all pawn shops, we conduct a large number of pawn loans. For those who don't know what this means (as I didn't until a few days ago), it means that we loan people money and the people give us personal items to hold as collateral. We take televisions, gaming consoles, musical instruments, jewelry, and just about anything that is worth a decent chunk of money. And, as I learned today, pawn loanable items also include bicycles. Today I was give the chore of organizing thirty-six bicycles so that they would be in ascending order according to their loan code. There were various factors that made this task very difficult: a cramped space to work in, a poor memory which kept me crouching through the bikes to search out the individual numbers much more than what should have been necessary, new guy nervousness about getting the order wrong, front tires that would swing around if I didn't hold them just right, handle bars that kept getting caught in everything (even my clothing), and missing kickstands. If I owned a pawn shop, it would be a requirement that if I was taking a bike as collateral that it would have a functional kickstand attached to it, enabling me to avoid the frustration of having to lay bikes on the ground or having them slide off items they had been leaned on when I was trying to reorganize them. I will keep this bit of information in mind for future use. More kickstands could have saved me so much time, energy, and curse words because when I wasn't having to hoist bikes over my head and then daintily step through and around other bicycles I was trying to balance kickstandless bikes against other bikes that actually had kickstands. At one point I had to balance three kickstandless bikes against one "kickstand?yes!" bike. It was a precarious, nervous affair, and it took several attempts, but I accomplished the task without totally destroying my new khaki pants. And then when I thought I had everything done, I found one bike that I had set aside (it was a kickstandless one and was flat on the floor where I couldn't see it, imagine that) which needed to be inserted two-thirds into the row. This required several more minutes of bike shuffling and balancing.
At one point in the day, I was coming back from a break and someone told me to go stand over by a specific female co-worker because a strange man wouldn't leave her alone. He was older and wore a light blue button up shirt that showed off his wisps of white chest hair very nicely. He complimented my co-workers hair and said she looked pretty but then said he shouldn't say that because he could get into trouble. Then he asked if he could get into trouble for saying that and my co-worker, playing along in order to be polite and partially out of a desire to appease the man so that he would leave, agreed. He then told her that he should say she looked good. I didn't quite understand this. He was maybe saying he was willing to get into trouble over her? I have no clue, but he repeated himself and it didn't make any more sense the second time around. He was very strange, but harmless. I was very ambivalent when I learned he was a regular customer because I found him entertaining and looked forward to future encounters but I doubt my female co-workers share the same sentiment.
As all pawn shops, we conduct a large number of pawn loans. For those who don't know what this means (as I didn't until a few days ago), it means that we loan people money and the people give us personal items to hold as collateral. We take televisions, gaming consoles, musical instruments, jewelry, and just about anything that is worth a decent chunk of money. And, as I learned today, pawn loanable items also include bicycles. Today I was give the chore of organizing thirty-six bicycles so that they would be in ascending order according to their loan code. There were various factors that made this task very difficult: a cramped space to work in, a poor memory which kept me crouching through the bikes to search out the individual numbers much more than what should have been necessary, new guy nervousness about getting the order wrong, front tires that would swing around if I didn't hold them just right, handle bars that kept getting caught in everything (even my clothing), and missing kickstands. If I owned a pawn shop, it would be a requirement that if I was taking a bike as collateral that it would have a functional kickstand attached to it, enabling me to avoid the frustration of having to lay bikes on the ground or having them slide off items they had been leaned on when I was trying to reorganize them. I will keep this bit of information in mind for future use. More kickstands could have saved me so much time, energy, and curse words because when I wasn't having to hoist bikes over my head and then daintily step through and around other bicycles I was trying to balance kickstandless bikes against other bikes that actually had kickstands. At one point I had to balance three kickstandless bikes against one "kickstand?yes!" bike. It was a precarious, nervous affair, and it took several attempts, but I accomplished the task without totally destroying my new khaki pants. And then when I thought I had everything done, I found one bike that I had set aside (it was a kickstandless one and was flat on the floor where I couldn't see it, imagine that) which needed to be inserted two-thirds into the row. This required several more minutes of bike shuffling and balancing.
At one point in the day, I was coming back from a break and someone told me to go stand over by a specific female co-worker because a strange man wouldn't leave her alone. He was older and wore a light blue button up shirt that showed off his wisps of white chest hair very nicely. He complimented my co-workers hair and said she looked pretty but then said he shouldn't say that because he could get into trouble. Then he asked if he could get into trouble for saying that and my co-worker, playing along in order to be polite and partially out of a desire to appease the man so that he would leave, agreed. He then told her that he should say she looked good. I didn't quite understand this. He was maybe saying he was willing to get into trouble over her? I have no clue, but he repeated himself and it didn't make any more sense the second time around. He was very strange, but harmless. I was very ambivalent when I learned he was a regular customer because I found him entertaining and looked forward to future encounters but I doubt my female co-workers share the same sentiment.
03 August 2010
"Did You Call The Police?"
My second day on the job was originally meant to teach me how to run the register for the payday advance loans. I, however, spent very little time behind the counter and was more often than not busy completing and checking off items from the list of daily chores. Such shores included filling up a mop bucket and then hauling it outside to water five knee-high flower pots (it was a bucket specifically designated for this so no soap residue would poison the plants and flowers), sweeping the parking lot (twice, actually--you would not believe how many cigarette butts appear in the parking lot of a pawn shop, but there were many other debris that I took care of such as used napkins, wads of gum, many unidentifiable plastic shards, and an unbroken beer bottle), cleaning, organizing, greeting customers (usually referring them to another worker when they asked questions I didn't know the answer to), and--my favorite chore of the day--organizing the portable DVD players we had in the back.
I was directed to the back room where there were two large totes of brown paper sacks, most of which were torn and falling apart. My task was to make sure all the DVD players were put in new sacks with the appropriate chargers, cords, and/or carrying cases. There were some very nice looking ones, specifically an LG model, but most of them weren't the in the most impressive condition. There was one ancient SONY model which was thicker than a literature anthology and about twice as heavy. I wouldn't advise parents to set that on their children's laps because it just might cut off the circulation to their little legs and result in the need for amputation. But, overall, the sorting went pretty well until one point when I had several models with random cords that I could not match. One of the original sacks was especially difficult as it had a DVD of one specific brand but then a phone charger of a different brand and a wall charger of a third brand. Wow. I solicited the help of a seasoned pawn veteran and we sorted it out. We matched cords according to polarization and voltage, not necessarily brand. I was directed to a drawer of AC adapter cords. There were so many colors and shapes and sizes. I think my favorite was the purple cord with the square prong on the end, but the red cord with the rectangular socket and strange fang like grooves came in at a close second. When it came down to hunting for the final cord I had some difficulties, but after ten minutes of digging, untangling, and re-wrapping cords, I found a mismatch that would suffice and completed the task.
Even though I did not necessarily work the register, I was in the store area for the majority of the time and overheard many customers' conversations dealing with the same exact problem--something or some things of theirs had been stolen and they were wondering if we had recently received said items. A man with four young girls was looking for a white Nintendo DS, a younger couple was looking for about 30 DVDs, and there were several other times when store protocol required my fellow co-workers to ask "Did you call the police?" Apparently, this happens a lot, several times on a daily basis--as I saw--but the only way we can help stolen items be returned to their rightful owners is if the rightful owner has already filed a police report against a specific person. We can then contact the police to verify the report and then go into our computer system and see if the accused individual has recently sold us anything and, if so, what it was (we keep very good records). Amazingly enough, none of the conversations I overheard dealt with a customer who had already called the police, but they were all very thankful for the knowledge of what steps they needed to take next in trying to regain their possessions.
Once again, this does not even cover half of what happened today, but I will share one last thing. The pawn shop I work for has a dress code, khaki pants or black slacks with a polo shirt or striped button up shirt (we buy the pants on our own but we order the shirts through the shop). Yesterday, I wore my long sleeved striped button up shirt and I thought the collar was very uncomfortable. When I got home, I realized that I had been working with the cardboard insert meant to keep the collar's shape still under the collar and it had been there the entire day. I just hope I wasn't walking around with the cardboard sticking out from under my collar the entire time. Needless to say, I fixed the problem and my collar was much more comfortable today.
I was directed to the back room where there were two large totes of brown paper sacks, most of which were torn and falling apart. My task was to make sure all the DVD players were put in new sacks with the appropriate chargers, cords, and/or carrying cases. There were some very nice looking ones, specifically an LG model, but most of them weren't the in the most impressive condition. There was one ancient SONY model which was thicker than a literature anthology and about twice as heavy. I wouldn't advise parents to set that on their children's laps because it just might cut off the circulation to their little legs and result in the need for amputation. But, overall, the sorting went pretty well until one point when I had several models with random cords that I could not match. One of the original sacks was especially difficult as it had a DVD of one specific brand but then a phone charger of a different brand and a wall charger of a third brand. Wow. I solicited the help of a seasoned pawn veteran and we sorted it out. We matched cords according to polarization and voltage, not necessarily brand. I was directed to a drawer of AC adapter cords. There were so many colors and shapes and sizes. I think my favorite was the purple cord with the square prong on the end, but the red cord with the rectangular socket and strange fang like grooves came in at a close second. When it came down to hunting for the final cord I had some difficulties, but after ten minutes of digging, untangling, and re-wrapping cords, I found a mismatch that would suffice and completed the task.
Even though I did not necessarily work the register, I was in the store area for the majority of the time and overheard many customers' conversations dealing with the same exact problem--something or some things of theirs had been stolen and they were wondering if we had recently received said items. A man with four young girls was looking for a white Nintendo DS, a younger couple was looking for about 30 DVDs, and there were several other times when store protocol required my fellow co-workers to ask "Did you call the police?" Apparently, this happens a lot, several times on a daily basis--as I saw--but the only way we can help stolen items be returned to their rightful owners is if the rightful owner has already filed a police report against a specific person. We can then contact the police to verify the report and then go into our computer system and see if the accused individual has recently sold us anything and, if so, what it was (we keep very good records). Amazingly enough, none of the conversations I overheard dealt with a customer who had already called the police, but they were all very thankful for the knowledge of what steps they needed to take next in trying to regain their possessions.
Once again, this does not even cover half of what happened today, but I will share one last thing. The pawn shop I work for has a dress code, khaki pants or black slacks with a polo shirt or striped button up shirt (we buy the pants on our own but we order the shirts through the shop). Yesterday, I wore my long sleeved striped button up shirt and I thought the collar was very uncomfortable. When I got home, I realized that I had been working with the cardboard insert meant to keep the collar's shape still under the collar and it had been there the entire day. I just hope I wasn't walking around with the cardboard sticking out from under my collar the entire time. Needless to say, I fixed the problem and my collar was much more comfortable today.
02 August 2010
My First Day at The Pawn Shop
Today was my first day working at a pawn shop and I must say that my expectations for greatness were far exceeded. I was assigned to help organize the actual shop displays and organize the back room, and even though I was informed that this wasn't what a normal work day will be like, it provided my naive mind with a better understanding of the inner workings of a pawn shop.
One of the first tasks I was given was to go to the enormous backroom (which resembled a small warehouse for pawned electronics and other inventory) and remove hundreds of VHS tapes from the towering shelves in order to count and package them in brown paper bags to rid the store room of their grainy film and inferior sound quality. And even though the items were unwanted and outdated, some of the movies were quite intriguing. Some of my favorite titles included Time Without Britney Spears (what that means I will unfortunately never know), American Pimp, My Little Pony, and the complete series of Highlander.
Another task I was given was helping organize a portion of our inventory. I sorted through hundreds of items ranging from novelty sunglasses (including glittered pot leaves, bling that was capable of blinding someone if the sun glinted off it just right, and hologram dollar signs across the dark lenses, among many other hideous travesties that were desperately trying to be stylish), an array of cheap tools (C-clamps, screwdriver kits, flimsy plastic tool boxes, and a band saw--just to name a few), and household items (coffee makers, fans, microwaves, clocks, mirrors, etc). The array of the items is much more expansive and random than I could ever hope to explain and there were not five minutes that went by that I did not see something that blew my mind--Chinese mediation balls, a banjo, a long row of bicycles, two horse saddles, some strange rusted garden instrument that looked like a murder weapon, a golden wicker basket filled with pastel Easter grass.
And to top it all off, as I was leaving for the day, a customer came to the counter with an 8-inch knife complete with a metal sheath. The sheath and handle were decorated with mystical patterns, probably with Dungeon & Dragon fans in mind as the target audience, and was in very good condition. But when the customer was offered five dollars, he took the knife back and very animatedly revealed how he procured the knife. "I found this just laying on the side of the street! Can you believe that? On the side of the street! A kid could have picked that up! Just on the side of the street! Can you believe that?" He repeated this over and over again as he walked backwards out of the store, loudly repeating his shocking news to anyone who made eye contact and then again to those who he'd already informed.
Yes, this was a magnificent first day at what I believe is going to be a very entertaining job.
One of the first tasks I was given was to go to the enormous backroom (which resembled a small warehouse for pawned electronics and other inventory) and remove hundreds of VHS tapes from the towering shelves in order to count and package them in brown paper bags to rid the store room of their grainy film and inferior sound quality. And even though the items were unwanted and outdated, some of the movies were quite intriguing. Some of my favorite titles included Time Without Britney Spears (what that means I will unfortunately never know), American Pimp, My Little Pony, and the complete series of Highlander.
Another task I was given was helping organize a portion of our inventory. I sorted through hundreds of items ranging from novelty sunglasses (including glittered pot leaves, bling that was capable of blinding someone if the sun glinted off it just right, and hologram dollar signs across the dark lenses, among many other hideous travesties that were desperately trying to be stylish), an array of cheap tools (C-clamps, screwdriver kits, flimsy plastic tool boxes, and a band saw--just to name a few), and household items (coffee makers, fans, microwaves, clocks, mirrors, etc). The array of the items is much more expansive and random than I could ever hope to explain and there were not five minutes that went by that I did not see something that blew my mind--Chinese mediation balls, a banjo, a long row of bicycles, two horse saddles, some strange rusted garden instrument that looked like a murder weapon, a golden wicker basket filled with pastel Easter grass.
And to top it all off, as I was leaving for the day, a customer came to the counter with an 8-inch knife complete with a metal sheath. The sheath and handle were decorated with mystical patterns, probably with Dungeon & Dragon fans in mind as the target audience, and was in very good condition. But when the customer was offered five dollars, he took the knife back and very animatedly revealed how he procured the knife. "I found this just laying on the side of the street! Can you believe that? On the side of the street! A kid could have picked that up! Just on the side of the street! Can you believe that?" He repeated this over and over again as he walked backwards out of the store, loudly repeating his shocking news to anyone who made eye contact and then again to those who he'd already informed.
Yes, this was a magnificent first day at what I believe is going to be a very entertaining job.
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