Lost in a Red Brick Forest

“Why in the hell doesn’t this map have a ‘you are here’ on it?”  I grumbled today as I’m trying to hold on to a tri-fold paper map of the Baylor University campus in the blistering hot humid winds.  I was so confused.

It reminded me of the first time I was in downtown Chicago.  I felt like such a Hick standing on a street corner way back then gazing in awe at the height of the structures.  I wondered how anyone could tell directions when the sun was completely blotted out by the buildings.

So today, during freshman orientation, I found myself in the same position.  A Hick, a little older and a little wiser, but still a Hick.  I stood there on a street corner in my walking shorts, white socks, tennis shoes, and printed Academy fish shirt.  My Oakley “Flak Jackets” helped hide my confusion as I stood there in a forest of beautiful old red brick buildings.  As I spun around I noted the majestic oak trees and the huge pecans.  Everything was beautiful and clean – and looked exactly the same.  But like the big city, the buildings and the trees blocked the sun at times, providing some shaded relief.  The only indication of North from South was the wind, which has haunted us everyday it seems since March.

“Didn’t we park in that parking garage?”

“No Dad, that’s on the other side of campus.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.  We’ve walked past this spot 30 times today.”

Of course we had.  I knew that.  I was just testing her. 

Plop me down in the woods anywhere and I can find my way out.  But if you plop me down in the middle of the Baylor Campus please leave me with a survival kit because I’m going to be hungry and thirsty before I find my way out.  Not that it is really all that big.  But it is just confusing to me.  The buildings are all just beautiful.  And red.  And brick.  Grand oak trees that provide beautiful cooling shade surround every building.  They also block the names of the buildings.

But I had a map.  Not that it helped much.  I must be getting color blind as well as far-sighted.  Either that or my arms are getting shorter.  The map provided is a 3-D version that makes it useful from really only one direction.  When I look at a map, I like to turn it to a position relative to the direction I’m facing.  When a 3-D map gets upside down, well, the buildings are, upside down.  So there I stood, holding the map out, turning, referencing, reaching for my trusty boy scout compass...

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to figure out where we are.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I just feel more secure knowing where I am I guess.”

“Dad, we’re right here” (Thumping on the map.)

“Oh.  Is that our parking garage?”

“Yes.”

“Right.  I knew that.  I bet you don’t know what floor we parked on?”

She did.  She took us right to the car.  Thank God.

Don’t they make a phone app for people like me?

Things your Retail Manager really wants to tell you...

I know this may make me sound old, (I’m not), but I enjoy Reader’s Digest magazine.  Occasionally they come out with a story with the title “Things your (insert professional title) won’t tell you”.  I usually find those stories pretty entertaining, because the (insert professional title) is usually calling us all idiots. 

I keep waiting for the “Things your Retail Manager won’t tell you” article.  My most recent profession was a Retail Manager.  It was by far, of all my jobs, the most challenging physically and mentally.  It was also very rewarding because I grew so much in my abilities to deal with a wide variety of people in all directions, (customers, peers, employees, upper management,  corporate, buyers, suppliers, truckers, fire fighters (yes, fire fighters), vendors, etc.).  You either learn to juggle the knives or they’ll slice you up.

Rather than wait for Reader’s Digest to write the story, here is my own list of Things your Retail Manager won’t tell you”.  My title is a bit different:

“Things your Retail Manager really wants to tell you.”

The customer is not always right.

What is it about walking into a store that turns a customer into a complete monster?

“Excuse me, but this newspaper ad says this grill is thirty cents.  I’ll take two please, and I want free delivery.  This afternoon.  And if you don’t do it I’m calling corporate, and my attorney, is on his way, and he is a deceptive trade practice specialist.”

What the manager wants to say:  “Baaaaaaaahaaaaaahaaaaa.  You’re an idiot.  That is a tiny spec of stray ink from the printer that makes $300.00 look like $.300  Umm…No.”

When a scratch is not really a scratch

“Yes, um, your delivery person delivered this washer and dryer set today.  And after they left I found a scratch on the side.  Please just credit my account for 50% off for my trouble.”

Manager:  “How big is the scratch?”

“Huge.  Maybe half an inch.  If you hold the flashlight just right you can see it glaring like an infected wound right there in the very back by the hose.  It’s just a tragedy.  My cat won’t eat and my husband is so mad he can’t see straight.  He wants to just bring it all back.”

Manager:  “Oh, looking at your receipt I see that you bought this for 25% off on clearance.  As is.  Nice try.  No.”

***

I was at the register at Cabela’s recently, after a shopping spree, and heard a raised voice two lines over:  “But I was told that since I'm a military veteran you would give me 10% off on my entire purchase.”  He was really trying to make a scene, projecting his voice, feigning a heart attack, hand on his chest, pointing as his basket full of stuff, jumping up and down, threatening to call somebody, demanding the manager.  I was so proud of the manager.  “Um…No.” 

(Not that I have anything against veterans, this person was just trying to be ugly, take advantage, making a scene and hoped the veteran card would work for him.)

***

Don’t make my cashiers cry

Some customers are sure that if they bully enough people, they’ll get the discount they “deserve”.  That mean, big box corporate retail representative, (my 18 year old cashier), you just made cry?  She is trying to raise a family working two part time jobs.  Its not her fault a stray speck of ink landed on the ad and made it appear we are giving that grill away for thirty cents.  If you make my cashier cry, you will not get your way.  Go shop somewhere else.

We do not rent tools

If you need a power tool for a day, go rent it.  Don’t buy it today and bring it back tomorrow and tell me that it just wasn’t what you needed.  Yes it was.  It was what you needed for a day.  I can see right through your story.

If you want a good deal, be nice.

Want to win me over and get a deal?  Smile.  We deal with so much controversy and so many people who feign heart attacks over a minor scratch, that a smile and a kind word makes a HUGE difference and gets you much better service and just might get you a better deal.

Don’t abuse the privilege

Just because I gave you a good deal on a damaged item last week, doesn’t give you carte blanche authority to come in here this week and search my shelves for scratches and expect me to follow you around and give you good deals.  The more I see you the more I start to duck you.

I get three to five requests for donations a day

I really wish we could sponsor that $5000 hole for your golf tournament, or provide you with a nice power tool for your silent auction, or (name your need).  However our budget for charitable cause donations is extremely small and completely out of my hands.  If I say “no” it doesn’t mean I don’t care, it just means I can’t.

Do you request a 10% discount at the grocery store?

Our gross margin is thin, and net margin is like a razor’s edge.  I’m not going to go in the hole on your purchase.  So stop asking.

***

So BE NICE to that cashier.  She might just be a senior in high school trying to graduate or a new Mother who just left her baby in day care for the first time, or he might just be a retired veteran who last month was dodging IEDs in Afghanistan, and they’re all just trying to make ends meet.

And thank you for shopping!

Shopping Hell: Pumps or Heels?

I’m a terrible shopper…a great buyer mind you but a terrible shopper.  When I go to any store, I’m the guy on a B line through the store right to my target.  I can be in and out of HEB before most people can find a parking spot up close.   However my shopping capabilities increase exponentially if I’m in Academy Sports & Outdoors within 200’ of the guns, ammo, and fishing counter.  There I can spend some serious time.  I also tend to be a pretty good shopper at Cabela’s.   There I usually start off on a buying trip that morphs into a shopping spree spending lots of time and too much money.  And what trip to Cabela’s is complete without a stroll through the aquarium?

“Dad, I need shoes that go with my dress for graduation.”

“Aren’t they all covered up by the gown anyway? “ I naively ask.

Here comes the stare.

“And wait, didn’t you just get a pair of heels for that same dress?”  I further wade into shopping hell.

“Dad, those were pumps.”

“Why can’t you just wear those?”

“I need heels, Dad, that make a statement.” she stared.

“Didn’t you just get ‘heels’ for prom?” I say, feeling a spark of debate coming on.

“Dad, those were for the maroon dress.  This dress is teal.”  She says as if I am a complete idiot.

And as you can imagine, there is no way I can win this debate.   If I am the King of the stare down, Lindsey is the Queen.  However she is the winner-take-all of getting the last word.  In fact the last word usually ends with me in a trance nodding my head saying “yes princess, I will transfer money from my retirement savings to your checking account so you can have the shoes you can’t possibly walk across the graduation stage without…” Of course, she only graduates from High School once, so how can I possibly refuse?

How many pairs of shoes must one teenage girl own?  Shouldn’t there be an area in the store labeled “these shoes only work once therefore they are really inexpensive”?  The life expectancy for any given pair of heels is one engagement anyway…right?   Then they’ll sit in the dust-covered box in the darkest corner of the closet for two years.  After which they’ll end up at the Goodwill store selling for $3.99, originally $79.99.  What a deal.  “Only worn once” the tag reads.

Compare that to fishing rods.  How many pairs of shoes do you have that belonged to your grandfather?    Who would want his nasty stinking work boots anyway?  But fishing rods?  Now that’s art.  While a brand new Shimano may be what is attached to my favorite composite poppin’ rod, it’s the stack of old fiberglass and bamboo rods that sit front and center in the man-cave. 

How many women have their old shoes on display where they can sit with a beer and recall fond stories of that date with young Jeremy?

Old shoes get retired to Goodwill.  Old rods get retired to the man-cave.   So now when your buddies come over they can ooh and ahh over your collection and immediately a story of dad or grandpa comes out.  Eventually you’ll find yourself admiring an old tackle box full of retired lures and an antique rapala fillet knife.  So if you have a story to swap and want to sort through some old rods, come to the man-cave.

In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be at Kohl’s waiting while the wife finds that perfect dress for this occasion.  And I’ll be minding my manners.  “Yes Dear, that length is perfect for you.  Don’t you think a nice new pair of suede flats in a complementing color would be appropriate?”