Today was a big day of little lessons. For the first time this summer, I was left in charge of the big store with four other staff people to work with me. The first thing I did, was misremember the schedule and send Angel to the other store for two hours. It wasn’t too big a problem and things were fine, but when I stepped on the patio to chat with a friend the boys returned.
Clipboard in hand, I am asked, “Where is Angel?” Then everything snowballs. Suddenly there is no change. Nothing. We are getting into our pockets to give change to people. No tens, no fives, no ones. Suddenly we are out of Chocolate and Strawberry. Gone.
Then the entire Brown Line comes into the store for their post Pride banana splits. Hot fudge blows, I am so frustrated that I am crushing every cone I pick up, sending balls of ice cream flying across the freezers, and holding onto my last thread of friendliness.
It couldn’t have happened ten minutes later, after the boys left or ten minutes earlier so I could have dealt with it and come out on top. No. All shit hits the fan the same minute the owners walk in.
I wasn’t in trouble, but I asked to leave so I could just quick fucking up. I hate making mistakes and I hate being responsible for such a tidal wave of bad customer service. I got a pep talk and they left. I got everyone in and out of lunch, ice creams replaces, trash emptied, and finally counted down the tips and left.
Sometimes a fire alarm followed by a detox run would be a welcome change. At least I know how to call 911 and wait.
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