Tag Archives: Macy’s

“Shitty at Sales Job Introvert”

This is my shitty Macy's sales gal look.
This is my shitty Macy’s sales gal look.

My blog stats interest me more than gluten and calorie free Twinkies. (Does such a slice of heaven exist?) They tell me what countries readers are from, what entries they are reading, and what search terms lead them to me. I’ve seen some amusing search terms, but this one really inspired me: shitty at sales job introvert.

I immediately felt sorry for the person who entered that into Google. I imagined a young guy with bills to pay. He’s obviously worried about his crappy sales job, so he can’t sleep. He decides to go looking for real information on why he just can’t sell those cars, newspaper subscriptions, Life Alert systems, or whatever. He is looking for some kind of expert advice. Instead, he finds me. Poor guy.

Well, Mr. Shitty at Sales Job Introvert, today is your lucky day. I’m going to share one of my own “shitty at sales job introvert” stories with you. It probably won’t help, but at least you will know you are not alone.

Let’s go back to Miami in 1990. I had just moved back from FSU to go to FIU,  live at home, and be able to see my boyfriend almost daily. Read more about my first year of college at FSU (insert tomahawk chop) here. I needed a job, and Macy’s actually hired me. Back then Macy’s was still fancy. Now, it’s like what J.C. Penney used to be before they became Sears, and Sears became K-Mart. So, I was kind of excited to work at Macy’s because I would have an EMPLOYEE DISCOUNT. I could buy Guess Jeans and Liz Claiborne everything at 20% off. Woo Hoo!

I had been a cashier at the two jobs I had in high school – Publix and Woolworth. I had no idea what it meant to be a SALES person. I learned quickly. At Macy’s, at least back then, sales associates had to EARN their salary in commission. So, my commission rate was 6% and my hourly salary was 5 something, and I worked about 30 hours a week. So, basically, I had to sell enough merchandise so that 6% of my total sales equaled my base salary. I would do the math for you, but math makes my head hurt. I rarely even met my quota, which means I really never earned anything above my base salary. In short, I sucked.

Anyway, I was totally shitty at my sales job because not only was I an undiagnosed introvert, but I was way too honest. Seriously, when people asked me how something looked on them, I would tell them the truth. If someone asked, “Does this dress make me look fat?” I would answer, “Well, it’s not really flattering on you.” And I worked in the JUNIORS department, people. You don’t make teen girls cry AND make good commission.

As an introvert, I also sucked, and still suck, at being competitive. I just don’t care about winning, no matter what it is. I worked with two FT sales women. One was trying to look like a Barbie even though she was short and stubby like me. She constantly told me of her need to pay rent through her plump, glossy red lips. The other one was a shark from Brazil who spoke Spanish, Portuguese, and English.   So, there I was only speaking English, still living with my parents, and not giving a crap about selling stuff. I lasted about nine months. The highlight of my time at Macy’s was meeting Pia Zadora. She used to shop there. I doubt she does now because, as I mentioned, Macy’s is not what it used to be.

So, Sir Shitty at Sales Job Introvert, I have some advice for you. Get out! Run! You are not meant to be in sales. Go get a nice office job somewhere, or a bank job — something where you don’t have to push anything on anyone. You know you don’t have the energy for it. Trust me, you will be able to sleep better.

Even a Hermit Needs Her Hair Did

Macy's, I'm hoping you're not serious with this.
Macy’s, I’m hoping you’re not serious with this.

Every so often, even the strangest of introverts (raises hand)  have to leave their cats and their comfort zones to do things like buy groceries, go to the doctor, and attend to many other errands that cannot be done at home.  I mean, you CAN order groceries on Amazon, but who wants to pay 10 bucks for a quart of milk.   Of all the things I leave the house to do, getting my hair done is my favorite, and probably the most important.  Let’s face it; if I’m going to show up at the grocery store in sweat pants AKA WAHM (work at home mom) attire, my hair at least needs to look decent.  I should clarify that I wear NICE sweat pants, which look better than some jeans I’ve seen for sale at Macy’s.

Last week, I went to get my hair did and have my tiny, yet unruly eyebrows shaped.  I enjoyed every minute of my trip to the salon, and not just because I remembered that the new car has heated seats. This Florida girl living in Ohio LOVES her some heated seats.  So, even the trip to the best salon ever was heaven.

My good friend Alli introduced me to Lennonheads when I moved here.  I LOVE this place, and not only because

Before
Before

Melissa, the world’s greatest hairdresser works there.  Everyone is so cool at this place, from the people at the front desk to Taffy, the lady who tames these brows, to Melissa, who makes me look human.  I have never had to explain a joke to anyone there, which is important to me.  People without a sense of humor make me uncomfortable.  I usually find myself checking the backs of their heads for a battery pack.  It’s just awkward.

Not only is Melissa a miracle worker with hair, she is an animal lover who happens to have an unruly puppy.  If you have read this blog before, you know that I am in a similar situation with Miss Sophie. While Melissa applies my color, or trims my bangs, we chat about our puppies’ poop eating habits.  Her puppy even brings cat turds from the litter box to her other dog, who is blind.  I guess that is being considerate in dog world, kind of like bringing your friend a latte.  I’m sorry if you were eating while reading this.  Oops.  I’m sorry. Oops rhymes with poops.  I’m not making this any better, am I?

After
After

I’ve already made my next appointment with Melissa and Taffy. I’ve also recently scored an employee discount at a sporting goods store, thanks to Ben, my son’s friend who had some friends and family coupons.  You know what that means.  I’m going to be looking stylish with my well-coifed hair, my non-squirrelly eyebrows, and some hot new sweat pants.  I may even get a matching hoody.  Step back, fellas; I’m married.