A Day In Sales

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A day in sales, a job I secretly loathe.

Submitted: April 24, 2019

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Submitted: April 24, 2019

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It’s been about ten years since they advised to do a job interview in this store. After a year of searching without any succes, this might actually be a good idea at first. What did I have to lose? Worst case scenario, they don’t hire you, but in the best scenario, I would have a new job. After a year I was sick and tired of that advise, but anyway, I gave it a shot.

At first I thought this place was way out of my league. It did have the reputation of a high end fashion store. Me, who was wearing clothes that were at least two sizes too big, would definitely feel out of place here. Every time I passed it on my bike, there were only cars parked that I would never be able to afford. Salesmen were running around in designer suits. Anyway, with nothing but courage and a resume that wasn’t at all impressive, I walked through the glass doors and pretended I was a regular clients for several years. Even though my oversized clothing would tell them another story. Every look I got, they were wondering what the hell I was doing there.

All nervous I asked the woman behind the register if I could speak to the manager. Even she was clearly wondering if I was even in the right place. At one time, it even seemed like she was wondering whether I was going to rob the place, take away their hard earned money. The same money they took from clients who wouldn’t even notice it was missing. 

After my interview, one I thought was going like every other interview I had in the past year, they invited me for a small trial period, which I passed without  a glitch. 

 

First, they would make sure they had nothing bad to say about you and once they knew they had you in their financial grip, that you didn’t want to go anywhere else, like a fly that was caught in a spiders web, that’s when they would make their move. 

Nothing you did afterwards was ever good enough for them. They had comments on everything you did. Dirty jobs they didn’t want to do, or didn’t know how to do them, were added to you daily chores. It even went as far as having to work in their private home like their own Dobby the house elf. 

That was ten years ago. Meanwhile, I still work there, even though a lot has changed throughout the years. I have seen a lot of colleagues quit, but they stil have me in their financial grip, although I wouldn’t like anything more than denying it. 

This is how a typical Tuesday looked like:

 

Every Tuesday would start the same. I would get up, without even having breakfast, got ready and prayed I looked somewhat decent and got in my car to arrive just in time. No one would bother to say a good morning, not even the Big Man, who always said it was mandatory or you could turn around and never come back. A man of many faces, who would always cover his true face for us, his subordinates. 

By putting all of your personal belongings in a steel locker, made it easier for them to depersonalize you and consider you as just another number, mine was number twenty. 

After that you would march towards your department, where if you were lucky enough, had another poor soul that would make your day a bit more bearable. We were all in this together after all. But that wasn’t the case here. Everyone was trying to screw each other in every way they saw fit, hoping that the Big Man would give the certain privileges, like a longer lunch break. This would resolve in a battle of gladiators, who were actually your own colleagues. It even got as far as this: when someone new was thrown into the group, without even an introduction, someone they thought looked better then them, they would swallow them whole and spit them back out on the street. 

When I told you I thought this place was way out of my league, I couldn’t have been more wrong. On the outside it did look like only high end people worked here, but in reality there were people from all different backgrounds. This would resolve in a cesspool of social outcasts from every corner of the current job sector. It took me a while to realize that even I was considered a social outcast the moment I started working there.

 

After our morning routine of getting the floor crystal clear, what could take a while because of the saliva that some colleagues left while sucking up to the Big Man, our actual work day started. 

I immediately started on a job that usually gets left behind, sorting out the ties. Color by color, neatly sorted by each brand. As usually, it wouldn’t last long. It didn’t even last five minutes before the first vultures smelled it. Their sole purpose was to destroy my hard work. Luckily for them, we’re not allowed to get angry at the customers, even though I was furious for doing so much work for nothing. Lasting an entire day, for some even the entire week, but we gave up a lot quicker than most. Just to keep our mental health in check. 

 

The rest of the day would consist of waiting. Waiting for the moment a customer would walk through the door. At the same time you would sigh when that actually happened. While most driven colleagues were powered by the saliva they left behind on the floor, like a giant snail, just to be the first, we were waiting patiently until they would leave for another department, so they could be someone else’s problem. That way we were able to continue our philosophical conversations.

The everlasting roaming around the store, waiting for the hour you got penitential leave and you could go home, was interrupted by a miserable thirty minutes of lunch break. Half an hour of which you finally think you can relax a little. But that plan got torpedoed down by the loudest colleagues who’s sole idea was to gossip about everyone else. Or they would talk about certain subjects of which you would rather go outside and stand in the middle of a crossroad, just to avoid hearing them. After those excruciating thirty minutes, the waiting for closing time continues, what even seemed to last longer than before. 

 

After several years in service, something happened of which I thought could change things around. I got a promotion. Finally I would get the recognition I deserved, more money to tighten their financial grip on me, but then again, they still had a grip on me so. Unfortunately I was wrong. Their idea of a promotion consisted of more responsibility and more work, but for the same amount of pay. That’s how I got in a position that they were able to take even more advantage of me. After a couple of nerve wrecking hours, their was finally redemption, the hour we all had been waiting for, the hour of freedom. As soon as the doors of the store closed behind me, a whole new world opened before me.

 

Conclusion: People still tend to spend way too much money on stuff they don’t even need. Even people who don’t have that amount of money were saving to buy clothes to show people they did have enough money to buy Italian brands. And me? I’ll probably stay their until I get offered a new job with the same amount of pay so I can break free from their financial grip on me. 

Society in which money is still the most important criterion, is a living hell!


© Copyright 2019 Nick Van loy. All rights reserved.

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