I hate retail.
Our store, despite being small is one of the busiest locations in the city. We get so much traffic, it's crazy how much money we make for what we sell. We get kids, adults, college students and seniors, people from all walks from life coming in waiting our products.
Last night, a staff member found remnants of stolen product hanging on our walls, hidden in a blind spot of our store. We have a couple. We know, because this is a normal thing to happen to us. Thefts happen almost every night with us.
I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. It always happens in the section that I'm responsible for. Because of this, I always end up blaming myself. My staff ends up blaming me. It feels like it, anyway. Almost every time there's a theft, a conversation with me has to be involved. They wave the packaging (with empty product) in my face and ask me what happened.
I usually can't remember. There are too many customers. If not too many customers, I'm busy doing your goddamn stupid stock or replenishment or merchandising or marketing tasks. Why? Because our company can't afford to hire a separate fucking tasking team. Which is actually find by me, but I can't do everything you expect me to.
I don't know how everyone else can. I don't know how everyone somehow recognizes that it's a thief in the store. I don't have the social skills or the gut feeling you fucking all have. I don't understand why our company gives us shit to help us out. We don't even have a fucking mirror installed in our blind spots, let alone a camera or a security guard.
I'm scared. I'm scared of approaching them. That's what I'm expected to do. If we catch someone, I'm supposed to approach them and do some customer service. They usually don't have weapons, probability wise, but I'm still scared. I hate that I have to approach them because I'm terrified. I'm already uncomfortable with social interaction as it is, but I don't want to push through my social anxiety for petty thievery.
I'm sick of personalizing these thefts, turning them into something that's my fault. I hate that thieves exist. I hate that this minimum wage job made me racist. I hate how, whenever I see someone with tattoos or with an Aboriginal or Indian heritage, I have to be on the lookout. I hate that I've seen children, adults, college students and seniors, people from all walks of life, steal from our store.
I hate it, I hate it. I. Hate. It.