Retail Re-Tales: Paid In Full

Tallahassee, Florida – 1988

One of the best jobs I ever had was during my college days. It was also my favorite, working at Jeans West, the hottest male clothing store in Governor’s Square Mall in Tallahassee, Florida. Our location was highly favored at corporate headquarters because our sales volume had doubled within months after I was promoted to Store Manager. I had worked hard to ensure that our numbers were better than the competition, Chess King and brother store J. Riggins.

First, I brought in my wild roommate, fellow marching band member and rap group partner Daryl, who I had already convinced to work with me at Service Merchandise. When I was offered the Asst. Mgr. job at JW by a regular customer who was its store manager, I told “D” to be ready because I was bringing him on, which I did after my promotion.

That didn’t take long because she resigned two months later. I was brought on to replace her assistant who was leaving within the week of my hiring and all of a sudden I was bumped up the the top spot. Bringing in Daryl, I knew things would be a wild, but fun mess because he didn’t care WHAT he did to customers.

…and you know, I was no better.

Then I convinced two of the new girls I had hired to be store mannequins, modeling our shirts in the store window. The 5-7-9 shop across the hall was doing it, but they stood, frozen in place. Our store became the rage in the mall for our antics, which included our mannequins’ “Vogue-like” posing to music. I cut off our mall-provided Muzak and radio service and pumped my own mix tapes through the store speaker system.

I then had our people encourage incoming customers to join them in our 12-hour “house party”, which they often did upon entry. It was like walking into “da club”, especially Friday nights and Saturday afternoons.

One Saturday, I took a short break and ran to Wendy’s in the food court, where I scarfed down my Wendy’s Double (cheeseburger) with fries before hurrying back with my large Frosty shake (God, they were so good back then). When I returned to the store, all that was left was my drink, which I had been trying to suck down without my head imploding.

If you’ve ever had a Frosty, you know what I mean and why they give you a spoon – to keep you from having a stroke.

As I walked in the store, I noticed this little 3-4 year old kid, eyeing my drink with my every step to the front register. Ignoring him, I set it down behind the counter, on the shelf beneath the register.

I walked over to one of my regular customers who gave me a big hug before she took my hands and started dancing with me. Remember, we were the “Da Club”. We playfully The Bump (dance) and laughed as I noticed that little boy, who had walked away from his mother, disappearing behind my store counter. Sure enough, he re-appeared, with my drink in his hands, sucking violently on the straw.

“Uhhhh, ma’am!” I called to his mother. I wasn’t going to walk over and take my drink from him. “MA’AM!“

His mother looked up, exhaled in frustration, slammed the coat hanger on the rack, stomped over to her son, grabbed the drink, then slung him across the carpet. Half of the shoppers stopped and gasped as he got up and screamed “I HATE you!”

Silence. Even the music seemed to stop.

She walked over and handed me my drink, which I was tempted to give back to her (or the child). But, being the whistle-blower, I thought it best to leave well enough alone. Of course there was the matter of her child yelling at her, which would never have been tolerated in my family.

She silently returned to the shirt she had been inspecting before looking up and asking how large our belts ran in size. After answering, I gestured towards the accessories section, still a little confused that she had let him get away with such an overt act of defiance.

She smiled and walked over to the belt rack. Looked over a few of the cloth belts, then the leather belts. Finally, she unhooked one of the longer belts, held it up high and looked it up and down. A look of contentment fell on her face as she folded it in half, firmly gripped the two ends in one hand…

…then ran over and proceeded to whoop the dog s*** out of that kid!

Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

The whoopin’ continued as the kid screamed over the music. The customers who were watching in horror looked over to me, waiting for me to intervene.

Ahhh, the burdens of being a store manager.

Whap!
“Ma’am”

Whap!
“MA’AM!”

Whap!
“MA’AM!!!“

“WHAT?!?!?” She snapped as she looked up from her private world, realizing she wasn’t at home. As if that made a difference.

“You know I can’t sell that belt with you folding it and whooping your kid like that!”

Daryl dropped down behind the clearance shirt carousel, covering his mouth to conceal the laughter.

She opened her purse, grabbed a $10 bill, slammed it on on the counter and yelled, “SOLD! Keep the change!”

Whap! Whap! Whap!

“That one’s on sale. If you buy a second, the third is free!”

Whap! Whap! Whap!

She didn’t need a second belt, but since it was already marked down, it was only $5. The only thing SHE needed, she was already doing.

In the end, he got what HE needed.

And with the change, I got what I needed.
This time, it was a Wendy’s TRIPLE, fries and a Frosty, later that evening.

Each of us, Paid In Full…

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