Friday, April 1, 2011
Take a deep breath and prepare to be astounded by the amount of violent rage I keep bottled inside on a daily basis. I’m about to expose you to more of the horror that is my job at the lovely Store-Mart.
I vaguely recall mentioning the fact that we no longer offer one hour film developing. Apparently it was no longer cost effective to keep chemicals that I would gladly drink in order to never again have to deal with these people. Hell is a merrier place. Some might think I’m exaggerating, but some have never had the joy of working in retail. One hour photo, getting back to it. When people want film developed, we have them package it up as usual and drop it in a box where it gets shipped to an out lab. It takes a week to come back. A few weeks ago, I had a woman call up and ask if her rush order had made it back to the store.
CT: “My name is Cammy Trockett (Look how clever I am! You see what I did there?).”
Me: “Okay. Was it film or digital?”
CT: “It was pictures.”
Me: “I get that. This IS a photo lab. Were the pictures on film or were they digital?”
CT: “My name is Cammy Trockett.”
Me: “Okay, Miss Trockett. Were your pictures on a roll of film or did you bring in an SD card to print pictures off of your digital camera?”
CT: “Cammy Trockett.”
OH MY GOD! Is this Timmy from South Park? WHY?
Me: “Ma’am, I need to know if you dropped off a roll of film or not.”
CT: “They’re pictures. Cammy Trockett.”
Me: “I KNOW THAT! Let me look, hold on a minute.”
I rummage through both of the drawers. The one for digital prints and the one for developed film. Her pictures are not in either. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Me: “Ma’am, I can’t find them. When did you send them off?”
CT: “I don’t know, it was supposed to be rushed, they sent them off yesterday.
Me: “Well, that was Wednesday. Fuji picked it up this morning, so no, they aren’t back yet. Give us a call next Tuesday or Thursday and we’ll check again.”
I honestly thought it would be over. I really, really did. My naiveté can be so cute sometimes. There are many, many things that I’m forgetting about that day. I’m pretty sure most of them have to do with copyright and print releases, the ignorant public, and the idiotic faux-togs. I need to block as much of this out of my memory as possible to protect myself from a nervous breakdown.
Cammy Trockett returned about a week ago. We had gotten her pictures back from Fuji. She seemed pleasant enough in person, aside from the slight air of meth head that her dentition was giving off and something that could either be attributed to a speech impediment or mental retardation. I’m really not sure which, but I think you know which one I’m leaning towards.
They done fucked up her pictures again, y’all. Done fucked ‘em up AGAIN!
In order to save you from the conversation we had, I’ll instead list the issues that were had with these photos and the demands that were made.
A.) The first set of pictures came back missing nine prints, but the CD was perfect.
B.) The second set of pictures came back missing four prints and the CD was missing three photos.
C.) Apparently the package you fill out to send off film is incredibly difficult to understand.
“I think that you should have an associate there to fill these out for people. It’s confusing and I really think that y’all should have to help people with these. I didn’t see anyone around, but I think y’all should have to do it.”
Redundancy: It gets shit done.
I can’t find a picture of the package, but I’m going to give you a rundown of the extremely confusing options listed.
Last Name: Telephone:
First Name: Something:
4x6 - Premium Photo Paper Singles: Doubles:
4x6 – Regular Photo Paper Singles: Doubles:
5x7 – Regular Photo Paper Singles: Doubles:
I know that’s a lot to take in. I understand that I’ve probably blown your minds with the complexity of our film developing options. I hope that you haven’t stroked out because of the total confusion this brings to all that view it. We should be drawn and quartered for not standing beside a giant blue mailbox with instructions on it that barely gets used because we’ve got shit to do and we trust you not to be a fucking moron.
CT: “I think you should call a manager. I want my money back and I want a gift card. I’ve had to drive up here three separate times to deal with this. What are y’all going to do about this? Call a manager.”
Me: “Ma’am, I’ll take your negatives and print out the missing pictures and I’ll burn you a new CD… all for free. The rest is up to the manager but I can’t give you a refund back here, customer service has to do that.”
I spent a good ten minutes holding her negatives up to the light trying to find her missing pictures. No manager. I then decide that I’ve wasted enough of my time and begin feeding all of her negatives into the film scanner to find them that way. Still no manager.
I fed a couple of strips in backwards and the machine yelled at me. It usually gives you an option to pass on pictures or to rotate them, but that screen flashed at me and disappeared before I could latch onto it like the safety net I’d later find out that it would have been. At last, I have found the missing pictures. The manager still hasn’t shown up, so I call for one again. Her pictures are printed out and her disc is busy burning. Eventually M manages to snag a passing manager who tells us it’s okay to give her a refund and smoothly manages to talk around her when she mentions getting a gift card.
Manager: “We could give you a five dollar gift card or we could give you all of your money back. Wouldn’t you rather have your money back?”
CT: “Well, yeah.”
She’s lavishing us with praise for fixing her problem and telling us she knows it isn’t our fault and giving us many thanks. <----- Remember this. I take her to customer service and she gets her money back, plus the eleven cent she never had to pay for a bad print. She leaves and she’s as happy as a fucking clam.
The Miley Cyrus woman from the day before ended up calling us three more times before accepting defeat and getting her CDs to take elsewhere. That added up to an additional sixty minutes of my life being wasted. I’m like a magnet for stupidity.
A few hours later, Cammy Trockett calls us. Her disc is still missing pictures. M tells her that there were a lot of pictures on there and that she’s probably just overlooking them. She then informs him that the other pictures are upside down and backwards. Total bitch fest ensues. She’s told to come back in in the morning and he’ll take a look at it. It turns out that she was referring to the CD that came back missing pictures. She wanted us to put the missing pictures on THAT CD and couldn’t for the life of her understand that you can’t burn pictures onto a CD that’s already been burnt. The crooked pictures were on the other CD because of when I loaded the film in backwards. She had all of her pictures right side up and doubles of a few that were upside down. M explained that she could rotate them on her computer at home more easily than we could do it there. She leaves.
The next day, customer service comes back to our lab with her CDs and their packages.
Me: “What does she want us to do with this?”
Customer Service: “I don’t know. She just said that she didn’t want to mess with “those people” again and for us to bring it back here.”
I look at the notes attached to the stuff. “Terry, please view pictures after made.”
Me: “Terry? Who the fuck is Terry? Do we even have an employee named Terry?”
CS: “We used to have one in personnel…”
M: “Maybe we should name the trash can ‘Terry’.”
I left the whole mess on the counter to deal with later. I showed all of it to T later. I threw away the packages and kept the CDs. The custodian came by and emptied our trash. They NEVER empty our trash. EVER.
This is how the negatives disappeared. I never saw them in there but T swears that she did. They ended up calling me at home on my day off to ask about them. Apparently, the guy in the wheel chair in customer service handled Cammy Trockett but sent someone else to give them to us without explaining anything to them. Terry works at Fuji. Terry is a very important person at Fuji. She went up the chain of command until the big guy offered to fix everything himself. She called our store and went up OUR chain of command chewing ass along the way and threatening to come in and “raise holy hell” if her shit didn’t come back right this time. Also, she wasn’t messing with the photo department anymore because we were rude and hateful. Class, do we usually lavish praise upon those that are rude and hateful?
Question time, folks. If Company A fucked your shit up twice, royally, and Company B gave you what you wanted with only a small, easily correctable defect, who would you send your shit back to? Not Company A.
Bitch Face Toothless McGee, the co-worker that I liked but saw changing? She asks me about it. She slides her eyes over to me and says “I heard you said you were going to throw her stuff away because she was so aggravating. All of the managers are going to want to talk to you.”
You instigating bitch. That’s probably exactly what she told them, too.
Fuji can’t make CDs without the negatives. There were no negatives. More hell was unleashed upon all. I burn her three more CDs and I finally get one to burn perfectly. For whatever unknown reason, they ship ALL of it to Fuji knowing that they can’t do a damned thing with it. When they come back, the CD that I made was gone. GONE!
I make a new CD. The index prints show that all of the pictures are perfect and right side up. I pop the new CD in and those three fuckers are still upside down. T does the same thing. Again, index prints show that all signs are go. The CD? Not so much. We made three CDs and every single one of them had three upside down pictures. Bitch could have fucking hit “Rotate” and none of this would have happened. It’s on a CD! Why does it matter if they’re upside down?
Bitch Face Toothless McGee comes in. I help a customer she was helping and she flips her shit. I explain what happened with the CDs and she goes off on me. In front of our manager.
“BFTM, what’s up?”
BFTM: “I’m fixing this shit because she don’t know what she doin’!”
Me: “Well, obviously T and M don’t either because we’ve all tried.”
I walk over to investigate.
BFTM: “What do you think you’re doing? I got this. Go on!”
Me: “Did I say anything to you?”
She’s been ignoring me for days now. If I speak to her, she turns her head away and ignores me of just walks off. She won’t help me with anything, she’s rude to me in front of customers, and when I asked a customer a question today, she goes “I’ve got her. Go on!”
What the fuck? I talked to this lady yesterday, am I not allowed to be polite to YOUR customers? Bitch, we ain’t working on commission here. She also made it a point to tell our manager how “pleased” Cammy Trockett was with the CD that SHE made her and to point out that I priced something wrong for the other lady… in front of customers, with a bitchy smirk on her face. She later tells me that because we were out of envelopes, that lady got her $60.00 worth of shit for free. Uh, negative Ghostrider. I believe you told her how stupid I was and then gave her shit to her for free so you’d look better. Just wait until management finds out about that. Oh, and about how you’ve been selling copyrighted materials to people that don’t own the copyright.
Today is April Fool’s Day and God has decided that making my life hell is a funny joke. One of our printers is smearing ink all over the photo paper, so it’s down, which means I have to change the paper in one printer every time someone wants a different sized print. I tell BFTM that the photo paper on the counter is NOT to be shredded because we need it to show Fuji when they come out to fix the machine. I tell her that that printer is to remain disabled because it’s smearing ink on shit. I come in later and she’s shredding the fucking paper and ten minutes later that printer is printing shit. “Well, Supervisor wanted everything off the counter. It messy.”
A psychic once told me that I’d be a scary person if I said everything I thought. I think she might be right. These were some of my thoughts: I want to punch you in the fucking throat until you die. I want to kill you so hard you die to death. I want to kill you, bring you back, kill you again and crucify you on your front door. That last bit might actually be ICP lyrics… That’s just a scratch on the surface of the fucking rage I feel towards this stupid woman.
I left work early because I was over my hours. I was so excited with my freedom. So excited. I get to Walgreen’s to buy my cigarettes and my card won’t work. The Goddamned magnet I have to carry at work demagnetized my card. Every penny I have to my name is stuck on this shit and I have one cigarette left. I had to go back to work where they tell me that the only way they can empty my card is by swiping it. I go get three things from the checkout line to ring up so I can get cash back on each one. The fucking card works. It worked at McDonalds. It failed again at Walgreen’s.
I get home to find out that my Medicaid Family Planning is being cancelled because I missed the date to turn in the paper work. This is what pays for my birth control. Without birth control I get hemorrhagic ovarian cysts that lead to internal bleeding, excruciating pain, and violent nausea. My French fries were half cooked and I dropped smelly tartar sauce on my shirt.
All of this is on top of the fact that I’ve re-stress fractured the ball of my foot and I have to wear my Forrest Gump Special Shoe. It’ll take me anywheya. Except to work because it’s open toed and I have to have a note from the doctor to wear it or they won’t let me work so instead I get to hobble around on the heel of my foot all day or pay $400 for someone to sell me a new $100 boot and probably take me out of work for a week or two.
Fuck my life.
I’m sorry I subjected you to all of that, but I had to get it out. I was getting to the point to where I was going to start burning churches full of orphans. Think of how many orphans you just saved!