store closed

anonymous asked:

university retail slave again because I remembered another thing. our supervisors, that now get 40 hours next week while us regular employees get 15 if we're lucky, don't do anything but open and close the store. which is important buts it's a 4 hour a day job for one person. They don't do anything else. They don't refill items, they don't do online orders, they don't help graduation, and they refuse to do register. So they get to be paid to do nothing for 40 hours next week.

During training to work for the house of mouse, they told us that when the store is closing, the final song they play is the goodbye song to the mouseketeers tv show.
So we as employees associate that song with closing, which means cleaning up, which means going home. Which means happyness.
So everytime I hear the Mickster laugh all Ho-ho! Followed by children in a chorus, “Now it’s time to say goodbye…” I get instantly immediately happy. I start smiling and working faster

Because it means I get to clean, and get to go home, therefore I get to be happy.

HOWEVER
The managers noticed this song perks us up and causes us to work fairly more efficient.

So.
Lately.

They’ve been playing it like two or three times before closing
Like if we close at 1am that day, it’ll be played at 10pm, 11pm, and then 1am again.

I don’t trust that song anymore, it used to be joyful and now it’s just mistrust
My ass has been Pavlovs dogged to accosiate joy with his face and voice and???????????
Just let me go home????????

5

Yuri!!! on Ice Animate Café ❄❄❄

The Signs and Space:

Aries: A little seaside town on the coast of California. Its small and touristy. The road is blanketed in an odd fog. It doesn’t show up on the map. The GPS says you’re not on the road.

Taurus: An extremely nice mall at near midnight. I think its closed. The store lights are turning off one by one. The loudspeaker music stopped a couple minutes ago. Your footsteps echo on the tiles.

Gemini: Your room when you aren’t home. Thin images of you move about performing all the tasks you might have done that day.

Cancer: A bustling train station. Thousands of people come and go. Nobody notices the half dozen figures cloaked in rags and leading people by the hand.

Leo: The pub reflected in the rainy glass. A shimmering image of you and the various bargoers. Two are missing.

Virgo: The woods outside your childhood home. The snow falls soundlessly on the statues you could have found. Friends you could have met.

Libra: Old town. Cobbled streets and restored antique lighting. Modern infrastructure attempting to masquerade as old iron. The stone well in the town center. The soft voice coming from it.

Scorpio: The basement reading room of your local library. Not many people around this time of day. The door you don’t remember being there. The odd dusty fluid covering the handle.

Ophiuchus: A vast vast desert. The volcanic vents deep below painting the landscape white and black. The dust devil in the distance.

Sagittarius: A gangplank under the pier. You come here to think. 

Capricorn: A church in old town that used to be an independent theater. This place would be perfect if you could catch a film. The doors are unlocked. A friend said the projecting equipment was still inside.

Aquarius: A road through flat dusty prairie. A sandwich shop literally hundreds of miles from any conceivable place to live. A fantastic hoagie.

Pisces: The nicest house in the nicest neighborhood. The spiral staircase up to the observatory. Who even lives there now?

TalesFromRetail: Daylight savings is a real b*tch, ain't it?

So daylight savings was yesterday. And our store closes at 5pm on Sundays.

So it’s around 4:50pm and some stragglers are proceeding to the checkout lines, when I see FrequentCustomer (FC) approaching. Now, FC is a nice guy, and he comes to the store every Sunday at close to 4pm to peruse the isles. He’s usually one of the last customers we ring out every Sunday.

So he walks in, and my supervisor says “hey, you’re later than usual today. Forget to set the clocks ahead?” FC is confused and asked what he meant. Supervisor realizes FC forgot about Daylight savings, and explains that it was today. Did I mention FC is usually a really nice guy?

FC: ..get out. Get OUT it’s only 4 o'clock, right??

S: No, it’s almost 5. We close in 10 minutes.

FC: But, I need to make a case of wine! I can’t do that in 10 minutes.

S: …I don’t know what to say? We close in 10 minutes.

FC began grumbling as he stomped through a couple of isles with a cart. You know when a customer wants to let you know they’re upset? So they huff loudly, and drive their carts all rickety making them clank and squeak? He did that for the whole 10 minutes. It was kinda shocking. So Supervisor locks the door to prevent others from coming in, and tells FC to proceed to the register.

FC: I’m not done yet.

S: I hate to break it to you, but you need to leave. I don’t know if you’re aware, but [County] has strict Sunday Liquor laws, and if I don’t punch in the security code for the door in 15 minutes, they’re gonna send a cop car around to check.

And that’s not a lie. We can’t sell before Noon, or after 5 on a Sunday. FC said the famous words we all hear at some point:

Not my problem.

Cue Supervisor pleading, FC refusing… it wasn’t a good time. Luckily with enough badgering Supervisor got FC to leave, sans wine.

We counted the last register we had open as quickly as possible. And punched in the code with a couple of minutes to spare. FC ain’t so nice in my book anymore.

By: NinaBisk

Things Retail workers HATE:

• “I wanna speak to your manager!”
• *tells you the price of every item as they’re taking it out of their cart*
• “Do you work here??”
• *Gives you half of their order saying they don’t want it anymore*
• *checks out 5 min after the store closes*
• “NO! I WANT EACH ITEM BAGGED SEPARATE!!”
• *hides things in random spots of the store*
• *watches- as their baby is sucking on an item, then puts it back afterwards*
• *Lets their kids ‘pretend’ shop- filling the cart with random things*
• *asks you to take off items, then changes their mind*
• *spends 10 minutes looking for a coupon as their checking out*
• *silences you* “I’m on the phone.”
• *Leaves their garbage behind items on the shelf*

2

Yemeni-Americans to shut down New York City bodegas in protest of Trump’s Muslim ban

  • New York City’s Yemeni-American bodega owners will shutter their shops at noon Thursday in an act of protest against Trump’s travel ban.
  • According to a Facebook page associated with the protest, an estimated 1,000 stores are expected to close across all five New York boroughs from noon to 8 p.m. Thursday.
  • “Originally, we considered starting the shutdown at 8 a.m., but the grocers they made it clear they wouldn’t be willing to close if that meant their regulars wouldn’t get their morning coffee,” Debbie Almontaser, board member of the Muslim Community Network and one of the rally organizers, said in a press release. Read more

USA. California. Oakland. 1971. Black Panther Gloria Abernethy sells papers at the Mayfair supermarket boycott, with Tamara Lacey in the rear. Mayfair was one of the many companies that would not employ black people (here, as truck drivers). The boycott closed the store in four days. Abernethy now works for the state of California, and Tamara is a real estate agent.

Photograph: Stephen Shames, courtesy Steven Kasher Gallery

Ok so…I know many people won’t care, but I have to say this:

I’m getting scared.
I live in México, and the government has recently increased the prices of oil/gasoline by 20% (which is a big big problem), and because of that, there have been riots, people are looting stores (there are many people who believe, me included, that some of these people are send by the government..I mean, it’s not the first time they would do something like that).
There are gas stations that were taken and closed so they can’t sell (some in a non-violent way), there are highways that were closed by protesters (or whatever they’re called) and right now stores are being closed because people are afraid, the grenadiers are fighting people in the streets, there are people being robbed in the streets (more than other times), media is censoring a lot of things happening here….
Right now, where I live, nothing has happened (and I’m grateful for that) but the gas station that is like, 15 minutes away from my house. was closed yesterday by these people protesting.
There’s a lot of violence here in Mexico right now, more than before, and we can’t trust anyone (the government, the police) to solve what is happening.

As I write this, the police are telling people not to get out of their houses…this is messed up.

Introduction Starters 2
  • "I'm sorry, have we met?"
  • "Here, let me help you with that."
  • "You look familiar to me."
  • "Excuse me, but I've lost a dog..."
  • "Store's closed. Come back tomorrow."
  • "Nice shirt."
  • "Is there anything I can do for you?"
  • "Are you ready?"
  • "What is that you're listening to?"
  • "Can I see that?"
  • "I'm sorry but I dropped something and it rolled by your foot."
  • "I thought about saying a bad pick-up like but decided to just go with 'Hi!'."
  • "Did you come where with anyone?"
  • "What you see is what you get."
  • "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
  • "Can you believe them?"
  • "Can we share a taxi?"
  • "Who the hell are you?"
  • "Was that the last one?"
  • "Who do we have here?"
  • "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What did you say?"
  • "If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?"
  • "Life's not fair, is it?"
  • "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
  • "Beg your pardon, forgot to knock."

A is trying to bake their family’s traditional Christmas cookies, but realize they’re missing a crucial ingredient. All the stores nearby are closed for the holiday, so they sadly decide they’ll just have to make them AFTER Christmas. B hates seeing A like this, so they decide to go out and search for any store that’s still open so they can buy the missing ingredient. Bonus points if it’s freezing cold/ snowing hard outside.

Piggy Goes to Market

Your belly bumps the cart as you turn down your favorite aisle. You wish you would have taken more time to dress but the store was closing. You hope that sexy cashier isn’t working tonight, you’ve got so much fat showing.  It’s crazy how much weight you’ve gained in the year since your divorce, old friends are shocked now when they see you. But the store was closing - what could you do? A fat girl needs to eat − so you heaved your  *** off the couch and grabbed the closest thing. Now you’re waddling down the aisle, feeling the cool air across a wide expanse of flesh. Your  belly has gotten so wide and sags heavily. It bounces rythmically against your heavy upper thighs as you jiggle-waddle along, putting thousands of calories into your cart as you trundle down the aisle.  You blush thinking of those deep dimples in your buttocks, the ones that got so defined, so obvious with the last fifty pounds. They can easily be seen through the thin cotton pants stretched across your wide, wobbly posterior like cellophane.  You waddle , waddle, waddle along, filling your cart with junk. You watch as you fill it - nothing but fat and carbs. This is why you’ve gotten so heavy, so out of shape. No self control. Such overwhelming desire to be full, swollen. You’re  a selfish, greedy pig, eating and eating and eating. And worse yet, you can’t take a bite of anything sweet anymore without sliding your hand between your thighs and rubbing yourself to orgasm. Oh the fantasies: being fed, being humiliated: pinched and slapped and fattened and fattened.  More stuff goes  in the cart; you laugh. Your ex-husband left you for just this reason, the day you were married you gave up any pretense of dieting. A year ago, he’d finally had enough. Oh if he could see you now, waddling down the aisle 120 pounds heavier, bouncing, shaking, rippling, rippling with every step; if he could see you blushing and salivating as you spy your favorites and toss them defiantly into the cart; watch you struggle as you bend down to retrieve yet another  box of snack cakes sure to make you bigger…softer…flabbier.
You turn now into the bakery section and and load in the cakes and pies. You’re getting wet just thinking about pigging out. Your nipples tighten as you smell the warm bread, the baked crusts. God, you’re such a pig: a hog, a greedy selfish hippo who dreams of being stuffed around the clock, sitting on her wide, spreading ass and gorging on slice after slice, handful after handful, of everything;  greedily filling your belly as it pushes further and further onto your lap. You catch you relfection is the bakery case − thank god the store is all but empty- what a sight!  So much blubber − jiggling, jiggling, jiggling. You’re embarassed at the sight of yourself and so turned on. Desire overcomes you and blushing, you plunge your fat hand into the open bulk container and draw back a fistful of   caramels. You shove them into your mouth, your face hot with lust.
Your heart stops as you turn towards the registers − the sexy cashier is the only one working; god, he looks like he’s in even better shape than last week. You’re so embarassed, this physical contrast , your complete transformation into a flabby, gluttonous hog; a jiggle-pig; a formerly plump woman now covered in layer after thickening  layer of wobbly pig-jelly . You consider leaving the cart and going to another store rather than face him. You’ve  had a serious crush since he started here two years ago. He always recognizes you and says hello, ugh, you’ve put on so much weight since then. He’s watched you  grow every week:   fatter…fatter…FATTER. You gather your courage and push your cart slowly to his register. You can hardly breathe. Your heavy sagging gut slaps your thighs as you approach. The soft, rythmic bump-wobble, bump-wobble is so obvious, oh, you’ve gotten so big and heavy.
The cashier is looks at you and smiles, he can see your belly hanging out, your food-mounded cart, ugh, he’s good-looking. You blush deep red. Your big, soft arms woggle, your back fat wiggles, your  buttocks jounce and jiggle as you nervously unload the piles of junk onto the conveyor. The cashier watches and does not advance the belt or begin ringing you up. The food boxes pile higher and the cashier watches.
“Just stocking up for the family,” you stammer. He laughs.
“You don’t have any family, this is all for you, porky.”   You blush. Oh ***, please humiliate me some more, please, please. You move to the end of the register and he begins to ring you up. Your wide hips and huge belly are in full view, god, you’re so wet. You want to be home with a box of cookies, eating and rubbing your clit.  He scans a few items and then grabs a box of ice cream sandwiches,
“Do you know how many calories are in these? There is a low fat version right next to these,” he glances at your bulging fat, “you should really try them.”  You sputter and struggle to respond.
“I’ve…I’ve …these taste a lot better.”
He scans a few more things and then stops at a huge box of twinkies and grabs the intercom and levels his eyes at you. He’s doing this on purpose, oh please, yes, humiliate me, I’m such a greedy pig.
“Tom, can I get a price check on the jumbo pack twinkie, the 30 count, I think they’re  on sale.”
Tom buzzes back with a price.
“No Tom, the JUMBO pack ,the really big box for like a family of ten or something.”
A few other customers  moving towards the exit turn and stare. They shake their heads in disgust. The cashier smiles at you.
“Sorry, just want to make sure you don’t get over charged.”
He scans more food and continues to glance at your belly.
“Set that big thing on the counter for me, fat girl. I want to see how much of that is pure hog-jelly.”
You stare at him in disbelief, unsure of what you heard.
“C'mon, lard ass, I see how much weight you’ve put on lately. Put that big, wobbly pile of chub on my counter so I can see how fat you really are.”
Your hands shake, your breathing is fast and ragged, you lift your heavy gut and set it on the counter. He pats it playfully then slips his finger in your belly button.
“Wow, you’ve really gotten tubby,  hogged up big time.” He leans forward and grabs a fistful of blubber and jiggles it, “Is this why hubby left you? Is this why?  You couldn’t stop filling this greedy gut with food?”
You begin to sweat, “Yes, oh god, I let myself go, I got huge and fat and lazy,” you’re panting as he jiggles, jiggles, jiggles your belly, “I couldn’t stop myself,  he told me to lose weight, he warned me,  but I just couldn’t help it, I just love eating and eating.”
He laughs  and returns to scanning your items.  Your panties are soaked.
He finishes scanning and begins bagging your stuff.  You watch his arm muscles ripple as he packs the bags with all your favorite food. He smiles at you as if he didn’t just spend five minutes humiliating you. “Write your number down for me. I get off in thirty minutes.”
You stare at him in disbelief and try to pretend you have plans, “I can’t, not now, I…I have a friend−”
“Don’t be silly, the only thing you’re doing tonight is eating, stuffing that huge gut with food you clearly don’t need. Now write down your number and address, you fat blimp.”
You give in easily. Your hand shakes as you write down your information.  What are you doing? You hardly know him, but oh how you want to be teased, teased and fed and humiliated. He loads the bags in your cart and you head for home.