Rambles.

One of the perks of working in a toy store was being able to observe the inadequate techniques of various parents. When I first took the job, I was worried that kids would be all over the place, making a mess and a scene and my life miserable. Imagine my surprise when, after a few months of working, I discovered that the source of all the problems I encountered came in the form of the mom or dad and their belief that they own the toy universe.

I can't begin to explain how many times I was yelled at because they didn't like a price, the availability of a product, the return policy, etc. Basically, everything I had no control over. After I gently explain to them that I am not Mr. Toy Store CEO, therefore I cannot meet their demands, I'm usually met with a "I'll just go to [insert another popular chain store here] then." To which I reply, "ok." I could care less. Because I knew better. The minute Nick Jr or Cartoon Network started airing commercials for the next big toy trend, they'd be right back at our store, as we usually had the biggest selection of trendy crap.

I didn't mind getting yelled at by the parents. I welcomed it most of the time because oh, the stories I can take home to blog about. Only one parent successfully broke me, way back during my first Christmas rush. Having never dealt with anxious parents during a holiday rush, I got overwhelmed and charged a man for the wrong item. This was pointed out to me by one of the backroom workers. The problem was that the item I charged him for was cheaper than the item he wanted to take home, and his son had already gotten attached to it. And it was a difference of $150. After trying to explain to him that I needed to adjust the price or give him the other item that he was charged for, he was basically done dealing with me, telling me that "my son is already attached to it. so I'm not changing anything." I was losing control of the situation and desperately needed a manager. My manager arrived, relieved me of my duties and I fled to the backroom and cried. My manager came to the backroom and asked if the man made me cry. I felt embarrassed but her words changed my entire career at the store: "don't let it get personal. they're just stressed and unhappy and are taking it out on you. If they start to yell at you, just keep telling yourself 'it's not about me. I'm just here to enforce the rules; I didn't make them.'"

Following that ordeal, I was the poster child for "I couldn't care less." That's not to say I wasn't nice; I was extremely nice. I was probably one of the nicest service desk employees there. But when the insults and the yelling started, the only thing in my mind was, "I can't wait to write this down."

And the lengths that some people would go to just to prove a point...it was astounding. One guy made my manager call the district manager because he couldn't return a board game his son received as a birthday gift. He didn't have a receipt, which is a no-no. The item was only worth $8, so any rational person would've just regifted it or given it to charity. But this man, with his son and wife hovering somewhere in the corner, obviously embarrassed that he was such a jackass, was going to have his way. He wanted his store credit for $8 and he wasn't going home until he did. There was profanity and thinly veiled threats involved as well.

Great example to set for your son.

But my manager stood her ground and would not give in until the district manager instructed her to. And of course, the douche felt some sort of accomplishment, having bullied a 53-yr-old woman into giving him an $8 gift card.

When that's taken into consideration, how could I let someone like that get me down?

What's the point of all of this? Well, I just want to thank all of the irrational parents who've ever yelled at me for teaching me the importance of zen and keeping cool under pressure. I had a near-catastrophe in my automobile this morning and handled it with grace because of my time at the toy store.

More details on the near-catastrophe to come later...