- The look you give your colleague when you’re serving a rude customer speaks a thousand words.- Just know, you’ll be the talk of the staff room later.
- Wanting to die inside when people STILL complain about having to buy a plastic bag- It’s 5p Sharron, I think you’ll survive.
- Going shopping and finding yourself wanting to tidy and pull forward in other stores. You barely do it in your own store but you can’t help yourself, we all gotta stick together right?
- The long wait while your customer searches for their loyalty card. “It’s always the last place you look” *awkward laugh*.
- When customers ask “do you work here?”. No honey, I wear this uniform because it looks fab.
- Breaking down your days into smaller chunks to make it through. SO you’ve got 2 hours until your next hour break then only an hour and a half until you have to move department and then an hour until your break. Easy.
- Not being able to finish your story to your colleague because of all the stupid customers getting in the way.
- Starting to give someone’s change and panicking when they say “can I give you the spare 16 pence” and having to think back to GCSE Maths to work out the change.
- When you get bored you can wander round the shop and do mental shopping. You’ve got so much spare time you can work out all the best offers because let’s face it who wants to spend all their wages back in their own store?
- Feeling unnecessarily offended when customers put their money on the counter rather than in your hands.
Just some fun things, I’m sure we’ve all experienced working in retail.
It’s 12pm, you’ve reached the point of the night where you have to decide how your night is going to end. Do you stick to your one pitcher then call it a night, or do you commit your undivided attention/money/dignity and finish the night with a bang (or a tactical chunder in the spoon toilets – don’t judge me, we’ve all been there right?). Ultimately for me, there’s no real question, go hard or go home, right? All memories of previous experiences fly out the window and you focus on having a good time. Fast forward 10 hours later and your hangover is born. Nothing can prepare you for the headaches, 3 hours naps and inevitable alcohol shakes that will plague you for the whole day.
You start off waking up, convincing yourself that you’ve managed to avoid a hangover. You smugly get out of bed mid afternoon, unsure whether to make yourself breakfast or lunch or something unnaturally in-between. Looking in the mirror you realise you’re wearing last nights makeup and you’ve worn leggings to bed. To your horror you realise you spent way too much on your debit card, smashed your phone on your way home and lost you Mac lipstick, but it was a good night, right?
Come 2pm and you start to feel a nap coming on, but it’s fine, you’re not hungover, just tired right? You start to realise the thirst you’ve had, since waking up with a mouth like Ghandi’s flip flop, is not going to be solved by any amount of water or coffee. If you can muster up the strength to leave your bed to make some snacks, whether it be chicken nuggets or pizza, at least you’ve achieved that right?
By 4pm it’s time to admit it outloud, you are hungover and not just really tired. God forbid if you have to go outside and face the real world- for those who managed to do so still hanging out their arse, I salute you. 3/4 films later and you have to admit that you’ve had a wasted day and begin to question whether the 3 for £5 jager bombs were worth it (FYI they weren’t).
Surprisingly, at about 8pm you suddenly feel like a new person with lots of energy….you’ve made it through the hangover. You may actually attempt to redeem your unproductive day by doing some work but at this point you may as well just accept that you’ve sacrificed your day to the sesh. It’s been a long hard day of hangoverness but lets face it, you have to prepare for it all again the same time next week.
a hungover tamsin x