You know, when I show up at a store, I don’t give a shit if anyone that works there is happy to see me. I’m there to buy something at a reasonable price, and I’m not too concerned about how the store employees feel about that transaction. Someone meeting me at the door isn’t going to influence my decision to buy… and yet, most retail chains seem compelled to pay a ‘greeter’ to welcome me into the store. That’s fucking funny to me… and that is the topic of tonight’s rant…
Let’s turn back the clock and remember the origins of this perfectly worthless approach to retail sales: Walmart. Walmart greeters aren’t an advantage, they’re a way to stave off lawsuits. Seriously, what the hell do you do with grandma when she’s too senile to stock shelves with toothpaste? Answer: you make her smile and wave at people she thinks is her grandson… which is, of course, everybody. Plant her right next to the front door, tell the AARP to go fuck themselves, and let her suck on the sweet, sweet tit of minimum wage. Drink up, granny. Every buck you earn saves us $453 in legal fees…
That might sound like a calloused viewpoint, but to be honest, I’m 100% with Walmart on this. It was a smart move… and when price is your competitive edge, you can’t be faulted for saving money anywhere you can. The problem I have is how big-box stores have misinterpreted greeters as some sort of trendy value-add… and to make it worse, they don’t stick grandma next to the door to give you a toothless smile… no, they stick some 18 year-old punk that talks to you in a tone of voice that clearly conveys his complete lack of regard for you. “Hello, how are you today?” Translation: I grow my own pot, and if this job was any harder, I’d quit and move back in with my parents…
I don’t know about you… but for me, that has the opposite effect of what was intended. I could have walked into the store completely ambivalent about my buying experience, but now Todd ‘the teenage dope smoker’ has me thinking about how sarcastic his greeting was. Man, that was irritating — I know it sucks to work retail, but it’s not like I forced him to take his shitty job. You’d think that when your job is simply to say hello you could at least try to be welcoming. And did you see that haircut? I fucking hate fauxhawks. They’re like… I have an attitude, but I don’t have the balls to shave my head. What kind of message is that? It’s like broadcasting that you’re too much of a pussy to be punk. I should have pointed at him and been like, “Your hair sucks you fucking homo!! I bet an emo kid could kick your ass and you’d be turned on by it!!” Damn, I totally should have done that. Wait. What the hell did I come here for again? Oh yeah, Superbad was just released on DVD… stay focused…
The biggest slap in the face is when your local grocery store pulls this shit on you. Same punk, same attitude, but now I’m supposed to be amped about buying potatoes. Wooo! Let’s live a little honey, put another spud in the bag!! Seriously, what focus group came up with this idea? Are there really people in this world who need to be reassured when walking into a grocery store? And wouldn’t this guy’s wages be better spent on another cashier? It doesn’t matter how long the lines are, there’s always a lane that’s closed. And what about those damn ‘do-it-yourself’ checkout machines? I can never find the damn barcodes on things… and if you’re buying produce, you’re better off standing in line behind someone that’s pushing two carts…
Seriously, if you want to earn repeat business, it’s really not that hard. Hire hot checkout girls. Truth is, every guy that’s ready to ring up is looking for two things. Yeah, sure, the short line… but I’ve stood in the longer line many, many times just so I could flirt with the teenage honey with the dark eye makeup and perky tits. I think I’ll pay for this six pack with… hmmmm… my Platinum MasterCard. Yeah, I can swipe it myself, but the magnetic strip doesn’t work sometimes…. better do it by hand, beautiful. And I get airline miles with every purchase — bet you didn’t know that. You totally want me, I can tell. What’s that? Did you just call me sir?
Shit. On second thought, I’d rather you piss me off when I walk IN the store…
More to come…
— Bingo