This Manager’s A Real Mess

I worked in a thrift store, and we got a new store manager. She was a liability in nearly every way imaginable. Every single day, the store was littered with projects she would begin only to walk away from them and forget them about half an hour in, so our store would be full of half-assembled displays, tripping hazards, and collapse hazards. One metal rack did collapse with a crash, nearly injuring several customers and scaring nearly everyone on the floor. But if you dared to lay so much as a finger on [Store Manager]’s messes to try to make them better or safer, she would berate you for twenty minutes straight for messing with her “workflow.”

She decided that we were going to price items her way, and no other way was acceptable. So, I complied.

I came in to do my shift and signed in. [Store Manager] pounced on me as soon as the computer indicated that I was now On The Clock.

Store Manager: “So, [My Name], I wanted to talk to you about this…”

Me: *Silent sigh*

She walked over to a set of shelves behind the counter, where my higher-priced items were usually nestled. One particular purse brand had multiple shells that could be switched out, so you could have one purse, but a shell could make it red, blue, or any other color, depending on your attire for the evening. It wasn’t a high brand, but since it was an item with multiple accessories, I put them all together in a display to sell as a lot.

Store Manager: “You know, a lot of people wanted to see this, but when they saw that it was $5, they all decided they didn’t want it. They said $5 was too much for a purse that doesn’t have handles.”

Me: “[Store Manager], that’s a shell, not a purse. It’s a [Brand] shell. Remember that [Brand] clutch that had several different shells, and I sold them as a bundle? You told me that $10 for the lot wasn’t enough and you bumped it up to $25?”

Store Manager: “Well, they think $5 for the shell is too much.”

I held onto my temper as hard as I could. I had TOLD her that I had a year and a half of experience and that I knew what would sell, what wouldn’t sell, and what prices would get the product moving. She had given me a twenty-minute riot act about how it was now HER store and we were to do it HER way or be fired. Now, she was trying to give me another riot act about how customers were complaining about prices that SHE had demanded we set.

I walked to the computer we used to look things up and pulled the only site [Store Manager] was now allowing me to price my stuff with.

Me: “Large [Brand] shells start at $7, [Store Manager]. I priced this one at $5.”

I pointed at a screen full of $7 [Brand] shells. I could practically hear the screeching of tires and the shrill beeping of a vehicle in reverse as [Store Manager] backpedaled like mad.

Store Manager: “Oh, uh, um, of course. I was just… just… uh… saying how it wasn’t moving, is all.”

Me: *Shrugging* “It’s as cheap as I can make it according to your direct instructions.”

[Store Manager] very quickly found somewhere else to be, without another word.

I’m not going to lie; I spent the rest of the day smirking and doing a happy dance. She would rarely be forced to admit fault, so I took what small victories I could get.