Entry 11:
Apparently the curse has taken its toll on yet another employee. The same curse that either brings our store incompetent employees, or turns good ones that way over time. Erika is nowhere to be seen. She withstood about four days worth of the rigorous training, and then vanished. She hasn't been seen for two or three days now. No one knows what happened to her. I asked Wandy (the rat boy) about her today and he couldn't even remember the person I was refering to. I guess she quit, or was fired, or realized that she can vanish for weeks at a time without punishment. Who knows?

A rousing game of TetriNet was interupted the other night by the laughter of one of my coworkers. Apparently some hick in a BIG ASS TRUCK(tm)(R)(c) ran over a trash can belonging to the McDonalds that shares our parking lot. By the time I got to the window, the guy had climbed out of his oversized vehicle, and started attempting to pry the greasy plastic canister of fried trash from his undercarriage. After a large amount of kicking, grunting, and such, he managed to upright the can and drive off. We didn't really have any customers, and TetriNET was getting old, so that was one of the most notable things that happened all evening.

We did have one interesting customer earlier in the day, although I wasn't directly involved with her. I saw her yelling at my boss, and asked my manager what the story was. Supposedly that woman came in the day before with a cell phone, entirely saturated, that she admitted she had dropped in the toilet. She wanted her money back. My manager wouldn't give it to her. Then she went to our associate store, and attempted to return it there. The guy that works there is a drunk that used to own a "Just Blue Jeans" store. He didn't know what to do, so he called my manager. My manager told him not to accept it. She then went to a Sprint Store a few towns over, and I assume by then the water had found its way out of the circuitry, because she told them that the phone was defective out of the box, and they believed her. That Sprint Store called up my manager and told him that he had to return the phone. My manger said, "She dropped the damn thing in the toilet." They said that it must not be the same phone. He told them to screw off.

The woman showed up at our store yesterday, my manager took one look at her, and he went to get the owner, my boss. My boss gave her a refund. He's far too nice. I think that's the reason why so many of us are slack. There's no reprecussion for doing anything, or in our cases, nothing. He's a sweet man, but if he took away the sense of job security all of us have, he'd get rid of that curse that keeps plaging him. Maybe Erika would still be here.

entry ten? Is that right? I... I can't remember.
We had a rather odd day on Saturday, providing me with a plethora of content. The really odd thing is that it was pouring down rain, and cold, yet we were horribly busy handling the battery-buying public from the time I walked in until the time I ran from the store screaming. Why in the hell you would brave that kind of weather to go to Radio Shack is beyond me.

The first notable guy actually came in Friday evening, right after my girlfriend stopped in to visit me. She came in the door, I greeted her, he came in, I had to help him. It was agony. Said customer was of the old hick variety. He wanted AV jacks (I'd also accept the name RCA plugs) to hook up a set of speakers to a reciever, or at least that's what I pieced together. He didn't enuciate very well.

"Wher yawr jacks? I got.. um.. it got two plugs. I need sound ya know? *hickish laugh*"

After leading him to the cable section, I stood there beside him, halfheartedly listening to his attempts to explain what he needs. I started off trying to clarify, to lend him the words he so desperately needed to describe what cords he needed, and in what quanity. For some reason that just confused him. I'd point to the RCA cords I figured he needed, and try to talk him through the number of items he needed to hook up. He needed three cords. "You need three cords sir," I'd say repeatedly. He'd repeatedly suck in his withered lips in deep concentration and make the face of a bullfrog, before picking up a package other than what I'd pointed to, and proceeding to count the contents. The counting didn't bother me all that much. The fact that he had trouble getting past three did. I stopped talking, so as to not make the situation last any longer than possible.

I began to lose grasp on reality, glancing over at my girlfriend once and a while, drifting off into an odd, daydreamish state of mind. I found myself having a romantic evening with her, sitting at a nice table, eating food that you pretend tastes good because you paid so much. I was awaken every-so-often by the sound of, "1...2...3.. um.. now wait a minute." Eventually I ended up at the front counter, and he was returning from the bathroom. "Thanks for letting me take a leak." He wanted to shake my hand. I smiled politely, and he spoke again, "I like dat picture of a dog you got in there." It's a picture of a cow.

We had all types like that, too many to mention. There was one black guy that comes to mind. He had some type of black cloth wrapped around his head, collecting his dreadlocks into the shape of a mushroom. There was a hole in the the top of the mushroom for a few dreadlocks to peek out. He had a pretty girlfriend, who didn't seem to be influenced by illegal drugs. He did. I don't know why she was with him.

This guy wanted to hook up an amp in his car, and didn't know what he needed, so I showed him the three types of wire most people get for that job. He also didn't know how long his car was. He pulled a huge piece of wire off the spool and said, "I think dat be it yo'," or something that translates to "There. Good." It was thirty five feet. His girlfriend made him get only half of that, but we're still talking about 18 feet to get from his battery to the amp. When it came time to pay ($35.49) he decided he didn't need so much wire afterall. He walked around nervously, speaking slang I couldn't hope to comprehend, and then called up one of his friends. His girlfriend rolled her eyes. After a while I got impatient and went to help someone who actually knew what they wanted, and when I returned to the counter, they had left. I didn't have time to care, there were a couple dozen other customers looking to be helped.

There's a neat business deal in the works that I think deserves mention. Blockbuster Video and Radio Shack are apparently cooking up something where they're going to change all the Blockbusters into combination stores. Ever seen those KFC/Taco Bell stores? Something like that, with comparable customer service. My boss seems to be a little spooked, seeing as how there's a Blockbuster right across the street from our store. What I find funny is that at our Blockbuster they don't even know anything about movies. How the hell do they expect to be able to suddenly transform into an information center for all things electronic? The REAL Radio Shacks haven't even pulled it off yet.

We have a new employee. Oddly enough it's a black female, one I think I can get along with very well. Her name is Erika. There haven't been too many females that have worked at our store, and absolutely no minorities. All the females that have worked with us have known absolutely nothing and had unbearable personalities. Erika seems pleasant, is soaking up information like some sort of sponge (feel free to replace that with a better analogy if you can think of one), and everyone (even Wandy: the rat boy) likes her. The boss is aparently tired of having useless employees, (read the Bris update for a complete history. It's sad.)so he's putting poor Erika through a relentless training proceedure. For about 4 days straight now he's had her back in his office for 7-8 hours at a time, lecturing about proceedure. He's given her written tests and reading material. The rest of us never had to do anything like that. We were just thrown into the pool without having any idea about exactly what swimming is. I've got a feeling that's a lot more fun than what she's going through, but hey, she's getting paid to hear the guy talk. Can't be all that bad.

entry 9: *PPSZAT!!!!!*
You might have read on my friend's site about a current project of mine/ours. (It's my page, so here I will call it my project. When I'm talking to real people, as opposed to typing into a diary of sorts, I call it our project.) We're trying to shock stupid people. We are literally trying to hook an electic source up to a metal framed, sliding glass door, and shock the hell out of some stupid people that touch it. Seeing as how I'm the Radio Shack employee, I took the project to work to see if I could actually turn our fluffy little dream into reality.

I asked one of my co-workers, we'll call him Wandy Rilliams, how he would do it. After paper clipping himself into a circuit, along with a large number of batteries, Wandy discovered that it's not quite as easy to "shock the hell" out of someone as you'd assume. You'd think if a dog collar battery could shock a basset hound, a couple of them in series could shock a scrawny white kid right? It doesn't. We attempted more desperate measures.

After clearing, all the AC and DC converters off the shelf, we started to experiment behind the unstable glass counter with metal framing. Our plan was simple enough. We took the test leads out of a voltage tester, attached two ends to a 9v DC adapter, and held the other ends in our far too idle hands. Wandy volunteered to have the leads attached to his flesh. It didn't hurt. We needed more current.

Radio Shack has a large supply of AC/DC converters. The largest of those is a 24v, 1.5amp DC that you would think would shock the hell out of someone. Not so. By this point we were attaching the leads to our counter and having Wandy touch the metal surface in between. There were customers in the store. Wandy started dragging the positive wire back and forth across the metal surface. It made sparks. Wandy was impressed. I got him to lick his hand and try again. Nothing happened. I went to help a customer.

A girl was asking me about an Alltel phone when Wandy grew bored of the tiny sparks made by the puny 24v power converter. I saw him out of the side of my eye as I began to explain Alltel's coverage area. He jammed the leads, that were formerly connected to the converter, directly into the wall plug.

"WANDY DON'T T--"
*PPSZAT!!!!!* He touched the other ends of the leads to our counter, a movement producing an odd mix between a spark, a flame, and a nuclear explosion. Half of my vision disapeared. Wandy fell on his ass stunned. The girl didn't even notice. She wondered why I had paused mid sentence while discussing the long-distance options available to someone in our region. I continued the sentence, glancing down at the counter between words, failing to make eye contact with the customer that wasn't really going to buy anything. The counter was melted and black. So were the test leads.

I always make fun of the customers, but to be honest, hours of putting up with morons rubs off on a person. During the long stretches of time where no one comes in, we get silly. For a long stretch of time we practiced throwing knifes. Well, I never did. Wandy and a portly fellow we call Dilbert handled that routine, piercing the boxes of our shipments with projectile pocket knifes. I perfered ballpoint pens and screwdrivers myself. I got the point where I could puncture a dangling Tracfone poster, through the nine key with a phillips-head, from halfway across the store. We shoot rubber bands now. I can do three on each hand.

Sometimes we actually do stuff that's somewhat productive. We installed a siren and a flashing LED on the MICROSOFT DSL INTERNET CENTER(tm)(R)(c). The words RadioShack.com are splashed with red light at regular intervals, and the '.' near the end blinks constantly. It's beautiful. Too bad it's slower than 56k.

All the computers in the store, used for ringing up customers and tallying the results, are linked on a network. Recently we've been playing TetriNET together, lining up little blocks, and dropping bombs and the like. It's a little more hi-tech than how we used to spend our evenings. It almost seems like work, making sure the network is initiated, that we know the IP address of the server, that all of us have access to the files. Sometimes we have to multitask, playing AND ringing up a customer at the same time. Kind of makes me think back to when I first started working there...

We used to watch HBO.

Entry ...I forget. I lost count. Shoot me.
We haven't had too many people in as of late that are really worth mentioning. I mean, none that really made me think, "That guy's insane. Should I call the police or take notes so that I can put him on my page?" I think I might be becoming desensitized. I've had people come in and try to goad me into an argument, and I've just been saying, "Go talk to my manager." They ask when he'll be in. "His working hours are between 9-5, and I'm sure he'd be glad to help you with any complaints that you might have." That usually pisses people off. Customers don't like it when you make them have to make an extra trip to come back and yell at someone. They want to yell at the first available person.

We had some oriental guy come in and ask for a cordless phone battery. When asked where his old battery was he got upset and started cussing about leaving his battery at home. It wouldn't have been so funny if he hadn't had an accent, but I find that accents make everything funny. "I forgot damn batt-tree at home! Damnit!"

We didn't get as many racing fans into the store as I had anticipated, seeing as how there was a race not too far from our store's location. Usually we're flooded early in the morning with a stampede of yokels, searching for at least one of three items: A scanner, a pair of headphones, or a splitter so that two pairs of headphones can go into the scanner. That last item is for the romantic yokels. "You mean we can share the same scanner Mr. RadioHouse?" You shore can Daisy May. You shore can. I guess that would make a good credit card commerical:

Tickets to race- $35
Stuff from Radio Shack- $89
Being able to share the scanner on your honeymoon- Priceless.

I'm being mean to racers though. I get the worst of them I'm sure, so that's what my opinion is colored by. Thank God hardly any of them came in. Perhaps they all decided to skip over us on their trip up there, and got ripped off at the track instead. They sell those splitters at the track for about five dollars a piece. We sell them for something around a $1.99 or less, and we're making about an 80% profit. I can't even imagine the ways they're ripping people off this year, seeing as how more people are at Rockingham than (I believe) ever before. (You might be able to correct me on that, but I don't care.) I wouldn't put it past them to write the number "3" on the bag they come in, and mark the price up a half a dozen bucks. I bet there's a lot of that going on this weekend. Maybe after today's events end they'll make their way back home, and stop off at a Radio Shack somewhere. They'll be burnt, hung over, and desperately seeking what they neglected to get on the trip up there. Luckily, though, I won't have to see them. On Sundays, we're closed.

entry seven: *sigh*
I viewed this page from a friend's computer, and decided it was kind of ugly, so I attempted to change it a little. Apparently the problem lies in what your screen resolution is set to when you're viewing the page (imagine that). So, I'd like to ask you all to go out of your way and set yours to 800X600. That's what mine's set at, and it looks great.

Last night was a store meeting. Every Tuesday is a store meeting. I'm not sure of what other retail stores' meetings are like, or even if they have them, but ours aren't something that anyone looks forward to. If we put forth a little effort we can usually convince the boss to just go home and forget about it. Sometimes we can't.

Theoretically, the meeting is as follows: We close the store, every employee that works for the store shows up, we cram into the backroom, talk about things that need to be done and share useful information, and then we leave. What tends to happen is that only the people stuck closing the store that night show up, and a lot of information is lectured to those unlucky few, not all of it relavant.

The majority of last night's meeting consisted of a training video. If you get past the fact that you've already been working for God-knows how long, and that you want to go home, these things can bring some enjoyment. You are given a situation: A sales clerk confronted with an angry customer. "I'M NOT GOING TO REFUND YOUR PURCHASE SIR! I'M GOING TO CALL SECURITY!" No, no, clerk lady. You did it all wrong. Let's view it the right way.

Man: You know, I bought this thing a couple of years ago. I don't think it works anymore. Hell, I don't even remember what it is. I want my money back."

Clerk: Okay, no problem sir, do you have your reciept?

Man: I'M SUPPOSED TO KEEP MY RECIEPT FOR YEARS AT A TIME? This is unbelievable. I want my money back.

Clerk: I'm sorry sir, our policy is that you may return anything within 30 days of the purchase as long as you have your reciept. I'd be happy to help you find a replacement for the item that is broken.

Man: SO YOU WANT ME TO SPEND MORE MONEY? I SPENT AT LEAST TWELVE DOLLARS ON THIS... THING. DAMNIT! GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK!

Clerk: I know just how you feel sir. I remember a few years ago I bought an electric razor to use on my legs, and it broke after only a week of misuse. I was so angry that my calves were no longer going to be silky smooth and sexually appealing to members of the opposite sex. I attempted to return it, but they turned me down because the store I tried to return it to was a fast food chain. I felt horrible!

Man: RIGHT ON! I find myself pacified by your story that relates to my pain.

Clerk: How would you like a DirecTV satelite system to go with that pacification?

Okay, well, it's never that blatantly farcical, but it comes close enough that it's scary. A situation with an impossible character is presented, the clerk states a Radio Shack policy, follows that up with a personal connection to the customer, and then attempts to make a sale entirely unrelated to the problem at hand. What makes it sillier is that you have some host doing play-by-play commentary, explaining exactly what the clerk is doing. He says that she wins over the customer because she's calm and goes by the handbook. I say it's because the clerk is for some reason always a big breasted woman.

Aside from the videos, we are lectured on the various things we have in our store, so as to be informed about anything the customer might ask. Of course, that's almost as effective as training someone to dodge bullets. *POW* "Hey, what's the current running through the yellow wire on the inside of this strobe light?" CLERK DOWN! CLERK DOWN!

I find a lot of days at Radio Shack invlove dodging bullets. I'm paid minimum wage. For that amount of pay I'm not going to memorize every single fact about the hundreds of items we carry. I know the main questions people ask, and I know a lot apart from those, but people don't expect that. Customers come in and expect you to know everything about your products. They have questions, and you're supposed to have answers. Customers really hate the words "I don't know." If you don't know how long that AA battery will last in their electric toothbrush with sparatic use, gosh darnit, they'll go buy it from someone who does. Some people try to stump you. I've had people come into the store and call answering machines "TADS." Where are your TADS??? It of course stands for Telephone Answering Device, but who the hell uses that term anyway? You start to make up answers when you can, making hypothesises based on any knowledge you might have. With enough BS practice, you pull a "matrix" in no time.

"How much is this non-radioshack product without a catalogue number you can check?"
*BANG*
"Uh... A customer asked me that yesterday. I looked it up. It's a couple hundred dollars or something like that."
*WHOOSH*
"How long is the company guarantee on it? I had one like this and the warantee was only a year or so."
*BANG*
"I think it's a little more than a year. Uh... all things like this have similar guarantees."
*WHOOSH*
"What fuse does this item use? I want a couple of extras so I can replace it if it goes bad."
*BANG*
"It's a... 125volt... um... ceramic... 2amp fuse. That's.. uh... company standard."
*Whoo..
"That's funny, I've never seen anything like this with a fuse in it. I've used these things all my life. I think I'd know if there were fuses in these things are not.
*CLERK DOWN! CLERK DOWN!*

I hope everyone has been keeping up to date on the Bris' Job Search thing at the top of the page. If you haven't viewed his resume yet, go do it. No other businesses have viewed it. I guess he's not going to be hired...