Ah. Retail.

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I’ve always said that everyone in the world should be required to work retail for a week. One week is all it will take, and suddenly you find yourself trying to carefully put that shirt you were looking at back, perfectly folded. You start looking for a sales associate to help you, being more sympathetic to the credit card schpeal, and then- you find yourself harshly judging all other stores on their lack of customer service. I mean why can I never find anyone in Target to help me? I swear that every time I’m in, it’s nothing but red shirts and khaki’s running in the opposite direction like they have high stakes poker in the back. And then I’m left to my own devices trying to shove a futon into my cart.

I recently had a quarter-century crisis moment, and while waiting for a pedicure, wandered into Hot Topic. A serious episode of punk rock nostalgia ensued, and I ended up walking away with $30 worth of shiny diamonds to stick in my lip. Only to get home, come to my senses, and realize that there was no way to shove something back in a hole that has been closed for 2 years. So after work today I shamefacedly walked back in Hot Topic to return said lip-rings.

“Uhm. We don’t do that. Like, you know, take back BODY PIERCINGS?”

“Oh. Well yeah, guess that makes sense, I mean one would assume that they had been opened huh? Geeze, sorry, it’s just- well uhm, my hole closed.” Gah what an awkward thing to say…

Then blonde tater-tot pipes in, “Yeah? Take ‘em back? Ewww.”

Eww?EWW?! I stand up to my full height, in all my I-work-at-Victoria’s-Secret-and-look-professional-scariness. Child, if you only knew the 15 year-old bra I had to take back today. “Uh, yeah, totally- thanks guys.”

And I slunk away, even more embarrassed at my crisis moment. Yes. I pussed out. To a couple of teenbots. But really, I hate making a scene. My boyfriend, on the other hand, will let whatever waitress, sales associate, or bartender know exactly how he feels and then some. Half of me sinks down in my chair and shares a thin-lipped smile at whomever is receiving the onslaught for the luke-warm lobster bisque, as if to say ‘sorry about him, it really isn’t that bad!’. The other half is sitting in awe at his boldness and fist bumping the soup.

Confrontation? Not my thing. And while I understand that Hot Topic provides a certain, there’s-no-way-you-can-understand-my-angst-and-i-don’t-give-a-flying-f#$%, vibe- I still cannot believe I got ewwed. If I overheard my sales associate ewwing a customer, I would instantly take over the conversation and call the employee into the office. Happy to say I have never had to deal with that, even though we will take anything, and I mean anything- back (and no we don’t resell it, for those of you twisting your nose up). But seriously, customer first eh? Like don’t make them feel even worse for something they probably already feel awkward about.

Granted, sometimes things slip out of your mouth before you realize it. An adorable little woman came in to be resized, beaming at me and announced she just found out she was pregnant.

“Mmmm.” I grimaced, tightening the measuring tape around her chest, and going about business as usual. For those that know me, such a response is standard. Like the Queen in Chitty-chitty-bang-bang, the idea of a child catcher sounds like a good idea to me. I’m terrified of children, and horribly awkward around them. I looked up and realized her cheery expression had come apart, as I was clearly the first person to not gush ooey-gooey enthusiasm over the prospect of wrecking havoc on the female body.

“Uhm- I mean, when are you due? How exciting!” I force the biggest baby fever smile I can manage to recover from my unenthusiastic comment. And then she was back to her bubbly self, talking about baby showers and bottles. I throw back the miniscule knowledge I have about the joys of parenthood (much in thanks to my friend Hannah, equally baby terrified, but a champion of a mother, with infinite patience for her baby-handicapped friend).

Retail is a tricky business. With it comes a responsibility to read people, to understand what they need, even if they are nothing like you, and make sure they leave happy. And working for Vicky’s? Well, there’s a reason they call them intimates. I never want a customer to leave embarrassed, or feeling stupid. That’s my job. Now, what on earth to do with these lip rings?