fuckyeahretailrobin:

Bullseye robin here!

I work at the little cafe in the store.  I was having a really bad day.  My breaks were late, I had almost no sleep, and the usual rude guests.  This older man in a wheel chair approached the cafe.  I microwaved his rice crispy treat he ordered per request.  I also got his soda for him, along with napkins.  Once I brought it over to his table he said a prayer to me, and thanked me for another ten minutes.  He told me I was “beautiful, caring, and the world needed more people like me”.  I got my last break soon after and bawled my eyes out for the entire fifteen minutes.  I was so touched.  No sir, the world needs more people like you. 

sanityscraps:

pussyharvest:

cosplayingwhileblack:

Characters: Marceline, Lumpy Space Princess, & Princess Bubblegum

Series: Adventure Time 

SUBMISSION

LSP WITH A FRO THOUGH

I’M CRYING

OH MY GOD YOU ARE ALL PERFECT

Can’t decide if awesomely perfect or perfectly awesome…

serafinacastaway:

confusedtree:

Someone with the email ghettograsshopper@gmail.com just submitted this to me

I am sorry for appropriating and bastardizing the spiritual significance of sweaters

Pause.

I can’t let this shit slide.

I tried to keep scrolling, but I cannot.

There is a significant difference between wearing the clothes of the people who have forced you to assimilate, and wearing the clothes and items of a culture that is not yours, ignoring and/or stomping on all cultural and spiritual significance of the item, and basically slapping all the members of that culture in the face because you think the clothing or item is edgy and cool.

Your westernized clothes were forced on us at the end of a gun, because when we were stolen from or chased out of our homes, we were given two options, assimilate or die.

You choosing to wear dreads because you claim to be Rasta (when Rastas are instructed to allow their hair to grow naturally, and Rastafarianism is explicitly against whiteness), or wearing a Bindi because it is pretty (ignoring the significance to those who are Hindu or Indian, feel free to correct me), or wearing kimonos and calling yourself a fucking delicate lotus flower, to sagging your fucking pants and calling yourself a gangsta or copying urban styles while appropriating AAVE and calling your self a “bad, hood/ghetto bitch” (when you’re really just a basic bitch) or referring to yourself as ratchet is taking something that was not yours in the first place because it is cool, and when we demand that you give it back because it’s not for you, you tell us that we need to share because you “shared” [read: shoved your whiteness down our throats with a funnel and demanded that we play by your rules] with us and it’s only fair since we’re playing at your house, when we didn’t fucking ask to play with you anyway, you had your mama pick us up without asking nobody what the fuck they wanted, because I guarantee, if you’da asked, we’d have stayed the fuck at home.

fuckyeahretailrobin:

 DOH!

If you watch closely you can pinpoint the second his spritely, smug little hop over the security chain suddenly turns as the lightening flash realization that he is in deep clusterfuck sets in. Glorious.

Also, a bunch of boxes pelt him in the family jewels.

fuckyeahretailrobin:

[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right.

Top Text: Customer who assume.”

Bottom Text: “You haven’t gone to college”]

I can’t say how many times I’ve been told by customers, who are first of all eavesdropping on my conversations with my regulars who know pretty much everything about me, that “it’s great you’re going to college, you don’t want to waste your life away in retail”. Sir/ma’am, I have a bachelor’s degree and I’m working on a second. This job pays for school, don’t assume I’m too lazy to get a degree. Because obviously I’m not.

Also, clumped into this are customers who look down on you because you go to a two-year college. My boss was told to her face that, “community college isn’t real school, what a waste of money”. You get the same quality education at a two-year school as you do a four-year. I’m, in fact, getting a better education at my two-year college than I did at my four-year college.

So moral of the story; just because I happen to be working retail doesn’t mean I’m a dumbass.

One of the best retail managers/mentors I ever had (she still works in retail, btw) has a doctorate in psychology. She chose to work in retail since she enjoyed the experience more, even with its ups and downs, and management pay is commensurate with the pay she’d be getting “doing psychology”.

TO EVERYONE: PEOPLE WORKING IN SERVICE POSITIONS ARE NOT NECESSARILY LESS EDUCATED THAN YOU, WHETHER FORMALLY OR OTHERWISE. NEVER FUCKING ASSUME.

fuckyeahretailrobin:

[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right.

Top Text: “IT’S NOT YOUR JOB”

Bottom Text: “TO JUDGE WHAT PEOPLE BUY WITH FOOD STAMPS.”]

Every so often, my coworkers take it upon themselves to remind me that customers aren’t the only ones who can be real jerks sometimes. I guess it’s one of the pitfalls of working in a grocery store, but whenever I overhear someone complaining bitterly about “welfare leeches” or “MY TAX DOLLARS”, I turn around and walk away as fast as I can. Honestly? I don’t give a shit if you just saw a customer buy $50 worth of stuffed grape leaves and Lunchables on food stamps, it is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. You don’t know them or their circumstances, and I don’t need to hear you talking out of your ass about how terrible food stamps really are. Stop trying to rope me into a discussion about how those people are Cheating The System. All that will come out of it is my opinion of you dipping even lower than it already has.

Bolding mine, for emphasis.

fuckyeahretailrobin:

Not a robin but I thought this story was just super great xD STICK TOGETHER, ROBINS.

(I wasn’t sure if this was sensitive for some people, so I just tagged it w/ harassment to be on the safe side)

Ohhhhh, this story hits the spot. See what happens when you’re a disgusting bigot, children? You don’t get customer service. And mad motherfuckin’ props to the awesome other associates that stood in solidarity against dipshits.

EDIT: And given the number of us Queers in retail, she REALLY came to the wrong neighborhood, motherfucker.

fuckyeahretailrobin:

Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right.

Top Text: “Hear male friend complain about getting hit on by male customers”

Bottom Text: “Welcome to being a woman in a retail position.”

A former, super-conservative friend of mine once complained to me regularly about getting hit on by male customers at his job at the big WM.  The bottom was my response, and he had the gall to try to contest it and complain that it’s just those awful gay people trying to take his innocence or whatever.  Needless to say, I’ve since distanced myself from him for being a sexist bigot.

I’ve sadly got as many stories about customer sexual harassment as I do about general customer asshattery. What a wonderful world.

thebluthcompany:

Arrested Development Valentines (by Tyler Feder)

fuckyeahretailrobin:

[Image Description: Background is several triangles in a circle like a pie alternating from true red, scarlet and black. A robin is sitting on his perch looking to the right.

Top Text: “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.”

Bottom Text: “BE MORE SPECIFIC.”]

Don’t you hate those people who come in expecting you to somehow be able to read their mind?

I had this woman call the store looking for a Sterilite storage container. The conversation went as follows:

“Hello, thanks for calling Target. Can I help you find something?”

“Yes, I’m looking for a Sterilite storange bin.”

There was an awkward pause as I waited for her to continue, but she doesn’t.

“… Okay, what kind were you looking for?”

“There’s one on your website that said to call your store to check the price.”

“Um, okay, but which one were you looking for? Do you have the DCPI?”

“The what? Oh, no, I don’t.”

“No problem. Do you have a specific size you want?”

“Um, I think I want a 34 gallon one. The one with latches on the side.”

“Okay, any preference of color?”

“The one on your website is gray.”

“Okay, I’ll go check for you now.”

After being stopped by another guest and helping them out, I found the one she was looking for on sale. So I hopped back on the phone, really happy I had found it for her.

“Hello, you were looking for the storage bin? Good news, we do have them and they’re on sale for $13.”

“How many do you have?”

“Oh, I couldn’t tell you off the top of my head. How many do you need, exactly? Want me to go and check?”

“No, that’s okay, I don’t think I want it. Thanks for checking.” 

I sat there dumbfounded for a second before finishing with:

“Do you want me to—?”

And then I heard the dial tone. 

I’d be happy to help you find what you’re looking for, but you need to actually TELL me what you’re looking for.

I think the real kicker for me was when she suddenly changed her mind on it. Just… WOW.