It's like "Who's on First?"... but with hockey?

So who's on first, what's on second, and crazy's on the phone. The hell hole has cut hours, cut people, and left the surviving associates to fend by themselves on the floor. I'm one of the lucky? leftovers. So I get to deal with fitting rooms, folding, recovery, and customers all by my lonesome. I'm wondering if it's a psychological study because no one can remain sane under these circumstances... especially when dealing with certain people.

This morning I got a phone call. Since I actually wasn't doing anything, I had to answer. The lady on the phone asked if we had hockey shirts. I asked if she meant Penguins shirts. Of course I was the stupid one for asking this question and she responded with, "Well, what other team would you have?" Gosh golly gee, I had an answer for this one, "Actually, we got a shipment of Buffalo shirts in." I figured maybe it would piss her off that we dare carry another team's merchandise. Apparently I made this up because she retorted, "They're not a team. I never heard of the Buffalos." Sabres. Buffalo Sabres. They're not the "Buffalos." But, yeah, ok. So I asked her what kind of Penguins shirt she was looking for. "You know, the ones you had over Christmas," she stated. I told her that we do have some leftover, but we haven't gotten in any new t shirts, just swim trunks and flip flops. But she was looking for specific shirts, "you know, the ones made out of a different material that kinda have holes in them." Jerseys. They're called jerseys. Well, we do have them so I asked her who she wanted. She responded with, "Neal. 71." We don't have Neal, but she was in luck, we have plenty of Malkin ones. Once again, I'm the stupid one, "I didn't ask for Malkin, now did I? I asked for Neal, number 71." I told her that we don't have Neal, but if she was looking for number 71 we do have Malkin. I still don't know what I'm talking about, she is looking for a Neal jersey who is 71. So I just gave up and told her we don't have a misprint Neal or Malkin jersey playing number swap. Then she asked how much the jerseys cost. I told her anywhere from $109 to $120. Apparently this is too much money to show support for her Neal/ Malkin hybrid. She also yelled at me because "The team is doing really good right now. You should get more in so more people could show support." So I told her to look at Pro Image or to find cheaper ones, there's online knock off sites or even the Strip District. She could even customize her own jersey so Neal is number 71. Way to jump on the bandwagon then go tumbling off.

Why do I smile at people who I'd much rather kick in the eye?

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour

But heaven knows I'm miserable now.

I was looking for a job and then I.... Well, I decided to go to the 'Burgh's St. Patty's Day parade. Perhaps not the best decision, but when your menial job is on the line, you're even having mental breakdowns in your dreams, and you've just won $40 on an instant ticket, you take that as a sign you need to indulge in some alcoholic beverages. Particularly the green variety. And who better to make me feel better about my life than a bunch of drunken yinzers? And they did not disappoint.

Joe Biden, our current vice president, lead the parade with his FBI/ Secret Service cronies. If I had any motivation at all, my new goal in life would be to go into the Secret Service- just so I could have the code name "Kevin Costner." If no one had told me The X-Files wasn't real, I could have been an FBI agent now. None of this "follow your dreams" nonsense.

A few minutes later, the VP of our country was quickly overSHADOWed by a celebrity groundhog. That's right, Pittsburgh got the real thing. Not that second rate, instant ticket scratching rodent. Punxatawny Phil paid us a visit on the lovely 70 degree day so could all laugh in his face at his incorrect prediction at 6 more weeks of winter. Suck it, you little bastard. Suck it hard in the sunshine.

The parade was finally over after about 4 hours (if only I were joking, the Burgh must have a lot of bagpipers and Irish stepdancers who mostly walked). Then it was time for shenanigans in Market Square. It was a glorious afternoon of green beer, drunken old ladies, another Pens victory, getting invited to a wedding, not stepping in puke, not puking, actually remembering the day, Mexican food (but at least I got salsa verde), and Irish Pride(?). Then it was back to the reality of the hell hole, which somehow got so much worse. But I think I still had a little bit of St. Patty's Day fight in me because I was sure ready to deck someone.

Back to the Misses Department

After spending a relaxing month-ish in the mens department, they threw a curveball into my schedule. Just when I thought I escaped, they send me back to the misses department...just the thought makes me want to run away at 88 mph.

I have noticed a drastic difference in the types of customers between misses and mens. I tend to get yelled at less in mens, they don't like small talk (mostly), and they understand that we always need to scan things so hiding the tags doesn't help, sometimes it's just easier for us to take the stuff off the hangers and fold it, and it never helps to roll your purchases up into a ball and then tap your foot impatiently when we try to untangle your mess. Basically, they're less bitchy. Big surprise considering the majority of the mens department customers are, well, men.

They changed everything about the fluorescent lit hell- from motto to pricing to the entire look. And it's now up to the associates to take the brainless zombies that we get as customers by the hand and explain to them the new strategies. Part of this new pricing scheme is having clearance signs that say "$5 and up." So clearly everything on the rack is $5; if it was more than $5, the tag would say "and up." A lot of the male customers accept the price on the tag. Not women. They'll bring an item, which is clearly marked $8, up to the register, but argue it's supposed to be $5. I'll take them back to the sign and point to the "and up," which they don't understand and still respond with "But the sign says $5." There were so many times tonight when I just wanted to put my ear to the sign and say "I don't hear anything. The shirt's $8."

One more small annoyance. Thanks to the awesome new CEO, old Ronny boy with a last name that is synonymous with "dick" (the way things are going, it seems very fitting), opening new credit accounts is the number one priority. And most of the managers have taken this to heart and are harassing the associates even more than they were before. As annoying as that is, I still wish to take it out on the customers who just start repeating "No, no, no" over and over again when I start my little speech about the fantastic benefits of opening an MC Nickels card. Really? Are you tired of people asking you to open a charge? How difficult that must be on you relaxing day off full of fun time at the mall. Guess what, it's my damn job and I'm even more tired asking a million people if they want to open a stupid credit card. Let's grit our teeth and get through this together, shall we?

The Crazies Found Me. There is no Leap Day

I thought I left the crazies downstairs. Or at least most of them. But they all decided to come visit me in the mens department today. I know I got a little too obsessed with Leap Day William and incessantly quoted 30 Rock... and even wore blue and yellow. However, I still recognize February 29th as a day. One of my first customers of the day did not. She stormed up to the mens counter and began her rant about a pair of jeans she bought for $15 on February 29th and now they're back up to $25. I told her that with the new pricing strategy we have month long sales. She purchased the jeans in February and it is now March, which means it's a new sale. The lady began to argue with me, stating that any other year, it would have been March 1st so she should be able to purchase the jeans for $15 and February 29th "doesn't count" as a real day. I would have laughed, but she was very passionate in this belief. I would have thought that perhaps she was actually referencing the 30 Rock episode, but it I'm pretty sure she didn't have a humorous bone in her body... well, besides the humerus (betcha never expected an anatomy joke. That's right, I've seen an episode or two of Bones). The pants weren't even from the mens department. Oh, no. They were from downstairs. This crazy hunted me down. And I'm starting to study a whole new set of crazies in their natural surroundings...

The mother shopping with son. A rare sight, particularly if the male is over a certain age. For some reason, today was an appropriate day for the teenage male to be seen with the matriarch of the family...especially if the matriarch is of the kinda sorta slightly loopy variety. As soon as we opened the store, a rather attractive bloke entered the store. He asked for a Penguins vest that was on hold behind the counter. Upon retrieving the vest, my heart fell a little for it was a vest for a female. I handed it to the young man, assuming it was for his girlfriend and no matter how much I bat my eyelashes for well, let's be honest, lean down with my slightly low cut top, he wouldn't give me a second glance. But, oh no, it was worse. Much worse. About five minutes later, I saw what appeared to be a middle aged woman dash across the store in the same vest with the dashing young man following her, whining for her to hurry up because she had to drive him somewhere. The two ran around my department for a little longer, conversing loudly with large hand motions. The mom ran to the neighboring lingerie department and at least the adoring son did not follow her. He stopped by my register for a talk. Surprisingly, prince momma's boy was actually charming....then his mom ran through the department again... and he followed her. I lost sight for them for awhile and breathed a sigh of relief since they ran right past my register. Unfortunately they returned. With a lot of items. And momma was in the mood for a chat. And there was a price discrepancy, which meant they stayed at the register even longer. I heard their whole soap opera-ish story. Apparently he dropped out of school a year and a half ago and she was helping him lie to the entire family, leading them to believe he was still in school. But he's smarter than his brother, who just graduated with honors from law school... would it have been too forward had I asked if his brother was single and if I could have his number? Note to self for when I become skinny, pretty, and slightly more confident- MC Nickels is not the place to go gold digging.