Pigs

Shoppers, as a whole, are pigs. They really are. It's fascinating how quickly a single shopper can completely terrorize a table of innocent, folded sweaters. What did they ever do to you? Furthermore, what did the sales associate ever do to you to warrant having to do a menial task not once, not twice, but over a dozen times in a twenty-minute time period?

At risk of sounding sexist I have to call out the piggiest of piggy shoppers. They are, hands down, women. I mean, seriously, girls. I'm ashamed to count myself as one of you, when shopping is concerned. My workplace is not the venue to take out your domestic frustrations. When you take something off the hanger, would it kill you to put it back on? When you unfold something--which you will do--have the decency to give it to a sales associate. It's bad enough to see a previously perfect pile of shirts look like it was hit by a bomb; please don't just throw it anywhere. It's really not that difficult to put whatever it was you were pawing back on the table in front of you.

(By the way, it is NOT necessary to unfold and touch everything you are thinking of buying. A large is a large. A small is a small. A medium is somewhere in between, etc. If you don't know the size of the person you're shopping for.....ask. What a novel idea. Granted, sizes vary from designer to designer, but within the designer, the sizing will be the same. I promise. Please, trust me. I work with these clothes every day. There's a reason we try to mask a look of horror when we see you approaching neatly folded items.....it's called the Soccer Mom Swing. You pick it up gently, as if you're going to leave it alone. Then comes the inevitable squint towards the size label, you set it down, grab the shoulders and swing there goes the fabric, unfolded in all its uniformly sized glory. Of course, it won't be what you're expecting, so you put it down.)

If you're any kind of smart, you place the beseiged item back on the table from which you dug. This is where our frustrations turn into personal irritation. You're not content with fumbling it into whatever fold you think is acceptable. There's a part of you that realizes what you've done, and you feel guilt. It's so slight, you probably don't even know you're feeling it. But we see it. We see it in the oddly laying piles, the not-quite-even stacks. This behavior is so curious to me that the only explanation I have is that you're somehow ashamed of the way you shop(which you should be). When we spot you converging on our folds, we get nervous and try to rush over. If we're too late and you've moved on, we now have to spot what you've disturbed and fix it.

Yes, we have to try to spot it. For whatever reason, you seem to think that hiding the malfolded sweater will make everything better. If you've disturbed a piece of pristine merchandise, you seem to think that shoving the offending piece in the middle or underneath the pile will atone for your transgression. Not even in the slightest. Now, not only have you unfolded one item, but you've successfully disturbed every other item in the stack. Instead of one shirt to fold, you have now, thoughtfully, given us seven. Thanks.

Now, I have the blessing of working in the men's department. I don't have to deal with women on as regular basis as just about anyone else in any other department. I have worked in a women's store, however, and I can attest to the astonishing laziness of most women shoppers.

I've discussed the frustration of folded items. Now I'll move on to hangers.

Three words, ladies: hang it up.

Seems simple, right? That task is the messiest and easiest to do, but it's also the one you do least often. To be completely honest, when you traipse through a rack and we trail behind to clean it up, it looks to us like you've just pulled every piece of merchandise you can get your piggy hands on. If something falls on the floor, instead of bending down to pick it up, you kick it out of your way. You roll your cart or stroller over it. You let the dust bunnies have it. You essentially ruin a piece of merchandise because you were too lazy and\or ignorant to pick it up.

(To those who mutter "That's not my job"......after the dirtest look I can muster I simply proclaim "It's not mine, either." Clean it up, Miss Piggy. I'm not a maid.)

I make a regular practice of piling up as many unfolded pieces as I can and place the mountain of clothes in the customers' sight. When they exclaim at the work I have to do, I simply smile. Look what you've done, Piggy.

Women are, by far, the messiest, laziest, most selfish shoppers. Your handbags are too big, your wallets are too full, your habits are disgusting. We already resent you for the mess you've left us to clean up. Do not, I repeat, do not treat us like we're scum.

I don't care about how much money you make, or how frequently you shop. Be nice.

Thank you for shopping with us today :-)