Being a Merchandise and Customer Assistance Associate at Sears has been, at best,
a bittersweet experience for me. Bitter, in that I don't have the same endless
supply of interesting stories that Harkins Theaters threw my way. Sweet, in that
I don't wish I was dead. But, I guess the latter outweighs the former, because,
after all, what good are interesting stories if I hang myself and can't tell them
anyway?
That's not to say that I don't have complaints about my customers: leaving the
fitting rooms looking like they were struck by the apocalypse, putting things
on hangars inside-out, etc.--but they just aren't funny. I do, however, have
one tale that is worthy of note.
It happened a few weeks after I started. I had a pretty good feel for the job
by now; I knew where things were, what we sold and didn't sell, and different
ways for me to cut corners. I was sent to clean the fitting rooms on this
Saturday evening, and I was none too pleased with what I encountered.
The pile on the bench was at least 18 inches high. Hangars and tags littered the
floor. I could tell this was going to take me a while. With a sigh, I started
sorting.... Levi's... Levi's... Land's End polo... Levi's... Burt Pulitzer...
I was about halfway done when I encountered a pair of blue briefs. I searched
everywhere for a price tag, but was annoyed to find out it didn't have one. That's
when I realize something that still haunts me to this day: the brand was Fruit of
the Loom.
I stumbled out of the fitting room, eyes wide with horror. I fell on the ground
and tried to gather my composure.
I started making my way toward the East wall, a grim feeling of uneasiness growing
inside of me. Please... it can't be true... I broke into a sprint, beginning to
wonder if I wanted an answer to my question. But I had to know. I couldn't go on
without an answer.
I started digging through shelves, hoping and praying... Hanes... Munsingwear...
Barrington... please, oh, please... Canyon River Blues... John Henry... oh, no...
My fears were confirmed. We didn't sell Fruit of the Loom.
Some guy walked in and took off his underwear. And left it.
And I was feeling around for a price tag.
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