Friday, December 28, 2012

The Magic of the Words "Excuse Me"

The holidays bring out the best in some people, but, unfortunately, the shittiest people still migrate toward department stores. Can you imagine that? Hundreds of angry, mean people all packed in close proximity to one another picking out things that don't apply with their coupons? And none of them say, "Excuse me."
So it's not normally that big of a deal, right? Like over half the people who walk the face of the Earth do not utilize the words "excuse" and "me" together in a sentence unless it follows the syntax "Can you excuse me from...?" Note the lack of the word "please" as well. As a sales associate at Macy's with an adorably cute smile that extremely juxtaposes with my personality, it is my duty to carry holiday cheer to these evil, sweaty meatsacks that fill up our hallways during this time of year. Luckily, the holidays put me in such a great mood that I don't normally have much trouble fulfilling this task until hell week right before Christmas when they covertly try to push my hours toward the sixty mark. For the most part, I'm perfectly pleasant. That should tell you how much I love the holidays.
What I don't love is when people walk slow. But I can understand that they're leisurely shopping, and they probably don't take into account that I have a job to do. I have a choppy, fast Asian walk. I have fairly long legs. It's a deadly combination, especially in the petite department where everybody is either old and/or has short stubby legs. I'd just walk over them, but that would be considered rude. It took me many bruises on the knees and elbows to figure out the safest routes past clearance rounders and sweater tables to avoid sluggish customers.
But here's the thing: as the holidays rolled around, there got to be less and less available routes for me to take. There were people everywhere. People on people. I don't claim to be claustrophobic, but when I can't avoid the torpor of shoppers, I feel physically stifled. And then the holidays begin to go downhill.
Every time I wheel my rack around, whether it's in my department or somewhere else, I always make sure to say "Excuse me" because I do not wish to be sued by some fuckface who puts his or her foot in my way. Contrary to popular belief, it is proper etiquette to wait for your obstruction to move before proceeding because then you know that they have heard you and your "excuse me" does not go squandered. I waited a long time for those motherfuckers.
Even if they can't speak English, I know they can hear me. Those racks are squeaky as fuck. Yet, they still pretend they can't see me. Bitch, please. I am dipped head-to-toe in black with a bright yellow rack at my side and I know you can feel those daggers my eyes are shooting into the back of your skull. And you can hear my repeated mantra "Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me." If I keep repeating it, obviously the message has not been received, so perhaps you should turn around to see if you are the receiver.
So clearly if customers don't react to the phrase "excuse me" they certainly aren't going to use it. My foot gets stepped on? Nothing. That bitch looked me in the eyes and then turned around and kept walking. No apology. No excusing herself. Ugh. When I'm helping another customer, people have no qualms about interrupting me to ask a question. First of all, don't interrupt me when I'm with another customer. Or ever. Second of all, if you're going to interrupt me while I'm with a customer and you don't want me to rip your head off, say "excuse me."
So, world and shoppers of Macy's, it seems that there are two options available. You could utilize the phrase "excuse me" and adhere to it when others foist it upon you, or you can walk fucking faster. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to re-lace some sneakers.
~ToriannaLamba