FABRIC F$@#-UP

I don't know why I keep going to the fabric store that is sort of close to my house.  There's one a little further away that's markedly better, even though it's the same chain.  I suppose it's because I used to work management at the first store.  The last three times I've gone there, though, it has been a horror show.

One time it was so filthy that I half-expected rats to come flying out from the fabric piles.  Another time my sister and I waited in line twenty minutes to buy a zipper.  This time is no different.  Today there are two people working.  TWO.  One on the cutting table and one on the register.  I've no idea how they handle breaks and lunch time with two employees.

How do I know only two employees are in the store?  Because a woman with a sewing machine question asks, "Are you the only two people working?" and the cutting table girl answers, "Yes."  The woman wants to buy the sewing machine that she saw in the add.  It's a $450 machine on sale for $200, but the employees won't sell it to her for that price because "it's online, only." At this point, I direct her up the street to the sewing machine store, but she is determined to get the sale, and I don't blame her.

Eventually, after waiting twenty minutes to have my fabric cut, I move into line.  With only two people in front of me, this should be quick.  Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha (breath) hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.  That's the sound of me being an idiot.  As soon as it's my turn, the male cashier says, "Just leave your stuff on the counter.  I'll be back," and he abandons the register to go help the woman with the sewing machine question.

I wait.  And I wait.  And I wait some more.  I wait seven minutes.  I could easily take my pile of fabric and two spools of thread and leave the store.  When he finally returns, he is carrying a sewing machine in  a box.  This is when everything starts to go wrong.

ME:  Oh, good.  So, you're going to sell that woman the machine on sale, after all.

CASHIER:  No.  No I'm not.  It's ONLIIIIINE (whining) only.

ME:  But, it's the same machine.

CASHIER:  But ... it's ... on ... LIIIIIIINE!

ME:  By the way, I forgot my teacher discount card at home, but here is my teacher ID and my regular ID.

CASHIER:  Technically, we can't give you a discount without---

(At this point, I've pretty much heard enough out of this guy.  He should be offering me and the twelve people waiting in line behind me discounts.)

ME:  Let me tell you how this is going to go.  I used to be the assistant manager at THIS store.  If I don't have my discount card but I do have proof that I am a teacher, you WILL give me the 15% off because that's the policy.  Do you understand?  I don't NEED my card.  I have my ID.  So you just go ahead and ring in this order and then I'll give you the money.  That's how this works.

I leave the store reasonably happy with my purchases but not the customer service, vowing never to shop here ever again.  Oh, I voiced this same sentiment after the third-to-last time when it looked like a bomb went off in the place, and I also made that vow after the second-to-last time when my sister and I waited nearly forever to buy one stinking zipper.  But, this time, this really-last time, I mean it.

Honestly, when I worked here, they illegally fired my wonderful boss during a hostile takeover, fired me after I copied records for said fired boss, then lost lawsuits to both of us for illegally firing us.  For a while, going in there just to piss off the new management team was sport.  Now, it seems like management is nonexistent.  And really -- having two employees working the store in the middle of the day on a Saturday?  Who's going to cover breaks?  Close-out registers?  Set up the sale for the coming week?  Put fabric back?  Order notions?  Sweep the place?  Make the deposit?  Watch the register while waiting on customers?  What if there's a goddamn emergency?


I ... WILL ... NEVER ... SHOP ... IN ... THIS ... STORE ... EVER ... AGAIN. 

This time, I truly mean it.