A Day In The Life

... Of a Mall Retail Employee

(This is an older blog/rant/humor piece I wrote. I figured it needed a new permanent home here. I loved this job immensely and it was how I met a lot of friends in Washington. Now that we're moving, I thought it was appropriate to revive this piece. Enjoy!)

I enjoy my job. I really do. I work in a small framing store that sells posters, prints, custom frames, artsy miscellany and other neat home decor items and gifts. I like the framing aspect of it because I get to design something and actually build a product for a customer. There's pride for a job well done and a sense of accomplishment. At the end of the day, I did more than just take cash. I actually produced something great.

What I hate about my job, are the customers. A person is smart. People are absolute idiots.

I'll describe the layout of my store. When you walk in the doors (the entire front of the store is glass, completely clear) and approach the front counter, there is an entire wall carpeted and lined floor to ceiling with moulding samples of every size, color, and profile imaginable.

The most commonly asked question?

"Do you do framing here?"

No, as a matter of fact, we're a Buick dealership. We just throw frames on the wall to confuse BMW drivers.

Or the classic:

"I've got a picture that's... oh I don't know... yay big (gestures with hands). How much to frame it?"

Oh, about yay much. We accept Visa, MasterCard, and Yay Express.

The mall where I work is also right next to a movie theater, which of course makes me and every other person who works here an honorary employee of Regal Cinemas. I'm repeatedly asked for my opinion on movies, prices of popcorn, and showtimes. The latter I love the most, as I'll spout off random times when they ask about a title.

I've actually been yelled at for this though, as one guy was upset that he asked for tickets to the 7:23 showing of The Mummy, only to find out that it started at 7:15. 8 minutes of his quality fapping to Brendan Fraser lost to my bad timing. I assure you, I was crushed at my egregious error.

I also moonlight as a mall directory. Because we're one of the few stores that doesn't require our employees to stand out front like hotel doormen when there is no one in the store, people seem to think that we're not busy. In fact, the sound of the compressor, mat cutter, underpinner and excessive hammering that emanates from my workshop is just me making lunch. I should buy fresher bread.

"Where is the bathroom?"

Note they did not use the qualifier 'nearest.' This one is almost too easy.

The smartish ones ask:

"Where is the nearest bathroom?"

Of course there are standing mall directories every 100 feet and large signs hanging from the ceiling indicating where the restrooms are. This is not good enough. Apparently, the symbols for male|female do not register when someone is about to have a Chernobyl meltdown in t-minus ten seconds and counting.

I wonder what the international symbol for explosive diarrhea is?

The phone is an amazing tool. It allows people to communicate nearly instantaneously, even though they are miles apart. It also makes people instantly deaf and brain damaged upon picking up the receiver.

"This is The Great Frame Up, Jessica speaking. How can I help you?"
"Hi, is this The Great Frame Up?"
"... Yes. This is The Great Frame Up. Jessica speaking. How can I help you?"
"Hi Jennifer, this is Mary Whateverson. I have some pictures I need framed. Can I bring them in, or...?"

Or what? Are you interested in our door to door framing service?

"Certainly, just bring them in, we'll design with you and get your order started."
"Fantastic. Is there someone there if I come right now?"

My boss once asked me why I had such a large bottle of aspirin in my desk.

Doors are another intriguing invention. Some have only two settings; closed and open. Some more complex doors also add the settings locked and unlocked. Countless misadventures are had at the hands of locked and closed doors for my store.

I've worked mall jobs in 5 states, at 8 malls. Every mall that I've worked at is open from 10 am until 9 pm, with variable hours on Sundays and holidays. My research tells me that this is a pretty standard hours set for shopping malls (not strip malls or outlet centers) across this great nation. Obviously, my research has led me astray.

Closed, locked doors are but a menial hurdle for the insistent shoppers who frequent my establishment. Not even having the lights off is a deterrent for people needing a wall sized print of Johnny Depp for their dorm room. Oh no. One good tug on the door and the ear splitting scrape of the locking mechanism on solid tile is the surefire "We're open!" sound to early morning mall shoppers, "CLOSED" signs be damned.

This happens about once a week. Usually followed by my emergence into the front of the store with the standard "What the hell?" look but a helpful, "Is there a problem?"

Almost always, my question is answered with "I think there's something wrong with your door," or "Why is it so dark in here?"

Tell me. When have you EVER gone to a mall and had to open a door (let alone tug on it like a chronic one-armed sex fiend with erectile dysfunction) to get into a store?

Designing is another fun part of my job. People get to bring in fun and interesting artwork, family portraits, and sentimental souvenirs from the journey of life. I get to design them and set them off with a spectacular framing project. This is more fun than it should be. I get to play with colors like a kindergartner and actually put together a plan for a project I get to build later. Its like working on a puzzle but first you have to put the box together to see what the puzzle is going to look like.

So this gentleman comes in, we'll call him Tom, and he's just a sweetheart. Wants a present for his mom's birthday and found a print that his mother will just love. He unrolls it and its a picture of Jesus, looking out over Jerusalem.

I myself am not a highly religious person, but the picture is absolutely moving. The color, the detail, the rich golden tones of the earthy landscape... It truly is a beautiful scene.

Generally, we design to the art. We don't pick colors of matting that aren't already in the picture. This print, having a very sepia tone to it, leads me to the browns and beiges, and I start matching colors, really bringing this print to life. Tom stops me and says, "I have something special in mind."

I immediately start to like this Tom. Customers who know what they want (even if it looks horrific) are generally good customers, happy customers, and easy to deal with because they've custom framed before.

Tom says, "I'm looking for a blue mat." There is no blue in this picture, but I don't argue, and I start pulling out some blues, casually asking him "Why blue?" Maybe there's a special story behind this.

There usually is.

Oh, there is.

"I'm actually looking for a suede mat. In blue."

There are pieces of artwork where blue suede mats are just absolutely perfect for the pictures. Then there is art where a blue suede mat makes it look like a five dollar clearance rack purchase at the Flying J Truck Stop. This would be one of those pictures.

I really was at a loss for words. I said what came to my mind at that point.

"Blue suede, for a picture of Jesus Christ?"

I did manage to censor the "Are you fucking mental?" part.

I'm pretty sure that in Islam, if you frame a picture of Mohammed in blue suede, you suffer for all eternity in a pit of burning pitch. Its in the Q'uran somewhere. I don't know if Christians have an equivalent punishment, but certainly feeding offenders to the lions wouldn't be harsh enough.

Tom's reply haunts me to this day. "Growing up," he says, "Mama always loved his music. I can't buy her a pair of blue suede shoes, but I can give her a blue suede picture of her favorite singer."

I'm gonna need a bigger bottle of aspirin.