The Cutoff

In my post from yesterday I promised to tell more tales from the retail world. I understand there are those who may have worked retail before, and so these are not new phenomenon I am discussing. But to me, whose work background is limited to food service and outdoor sports, either in YMCA camps or working as an official for the University rec center, these things are unbelieveably fascinating. And so, I bring you today's episode in Things I Think Are Batcrackers: Women in the Junior's Section.

I am no fashionista. I understand this. I shop and dress myself for comfort, regardless of the situation, and I think Stacy and Clinton would be appalled at my collection of T-shirts. I attempt to dress my age, at the very least, and sometimes I probably dress a bit too old. So, I understand that I am by no means allowed to pass judgment on what others are wearing, but...I'll go ahead anyway. I feel there are certain rules for women, regardless of age, body type, or clothing preference. They are as follows:
1. Your body will go through many changes from the time you are 12 until after menopause. Expect the unexpected. Don't expect to wear the same clothes you wore at 18 when you are 25. Unles you are stick-thin and your name is something like a supermodel.
2. Be aware of what sizes you are picking out. Try things on. Make friends with a brutally honest person, or, just assume everything will look terrible on you and don't buy it. Like me.
3. If you are above the age of 18--okay, fine, 20--you should not own any clothing with odd sizing. Which brings me to the women in the junior's section.

I was working last week in the Junior's section, where I am always blown away by what makes it onto the shelves and racks, when a woman stopped me. She was maybe 45, taller and thin, but had obviously had children. She had the baby-bearing hips of a woman who maybe shopped around in her daughter's closet. Or maybe she just had boys and needed to feel feminine. Whatever the case, she stopped and said, "Excuse me, do you have any tube tops?" Uh, what? You mean me personally? It of course is never my job to pass judgment, though it seems like a company pasttime, and so I directed her to the only tube tops I knew of: the Day-Glo pink and orange stretch tube tops that only came in the following sizes: Small/Medium, Large/X-Large. She was ecstatic.

It doesn't stop there, however. There are women who will pass off their unwanted merchandise to me in the fitting rooms, who are entirely too old to be wearing brands like Mudd (with two ds, by the way). It's no wonder they didn't fit, these clothes are made for ittty-bitty girls who have not yet gone through puberty. Or second puberty in college, when things just don't stay in shape like they did in college. It's called Freshman 15, or whatever name your school had for it (Ours was 22. Thanks, Midwest).

It's hard for me not to sound judgmental, and maybe it's because my mother is terrified of becoming the woman who dresses too young. Like it's a virus and she might catch it. This is far from the case, because my mother is very well acquainted with what is and is not appropriate attire for her age. I adopt this theory and mindset because well, it's better to be taken seriously because you dress older, than be assumed a dipshit because you're wearing a see-through lace top and sucking on a Ring Pop on your pinkie finger.

That's just gross.


Until next time,
S

Summer cleaning

So I've decided to abandon the style, if you can call it that, of my past blog entries. I've never been good at committing to writing down everything as it happens, so I tried the "stream of conciousness" style for a bit. It didn't work out too well. So instead, I will try to document the striking things that happen to me, and perfect those entries. I've changed some other things, namely the title of the blog, to be more appropriate for what I will be writing about--going to school at Mizzou, getting an MA in creative writing, my wedding planning and marriage to T, my dogs, and the things I find unbelievably interesting. Stay tuned.


I recently found a summer job, after many weeks of searching. I was employed at Chipotle for about a week until I heard back from Kohl's offering me an associate position. I'm not normally the type of person to bail so easily on jobs, but I had been there done that with Chipotle. I rolled burritos for about a year in high school, enduring crappy pay and brute supervisors. I still have scars from the tortilla press. So naturally when a job came about that did not require any sweat or potential for burns--from a tortilla press or the sun--I jumped on it. My week-long boss was not happy, but I have to look out for me, right? Kohl's is ridiculously close to my home, and let's face it, I'll save all I can in gas. So I left Chipotle, and forged my way into retail.

I've never worked retail before and so I find the mundane things about my new job incredibly interesting. I'll try to explain the best I can in later segments, but for now, I would like to focus on the customer, who Kohl's always refers to as "she" or "her."

As I sat through training with other new hires, I found myself struck by the videos that continually referred to the Kohl's customer as female. As a feminist and one to gets up in arms fairly easily (ask T), I tried to find a way in which this was sexist. Are the women supposed to be the ones shopping for their fat, lazy husbands because of forced gender roles? Why can't men buy their own socks? Blah blah blah. But then I realized that yes, women do the majority of the shopping, at least at Kohl's, evidenced by the large section of women's clothing. This was all very apparent to me when I found myself working in the MJM: misses', junior's, and men's departments.

Women intimidate me. Especially the ones that will drop $200 in clothing, accessories and housewares like it's nothing. Perhaps it's because I have no money, at least until the school loans come in, and that fact that women like that exist makes me a bit sad. I hope to have that amount of money some day, where I can buy a $400 vacuum, but until then, I pine. Women are also pushy. They want to know why the Nike socks are more expensive than the Croft and Barrow. They want their size in the fitting room and they want it NOW. The behavior of these women is cutthroat; I imagine these are the same women who clad themselves in armor with their daughters so they can fight crowds on Black Friday, or those days when the fancy bridal salons have $99 sales. I just don't get it.

So the customers are intimidating. Thankfully I have been working in men's lately, but more on that later.

Off to nurse my retail bruises,

S