I was the dream weaver, but now I’m reborn.
what good’s a heart if ain’t on your sleeve?
If you think you’re getting played, you usually are.
And I think I’m getting played.
Here I go again.
go fuck yourself nordstrom menlo park
I have had it with the volunteer work. It’s essentially all I’ve been doing at work lately. My paychecks are all commission, so if I sell nothing I make nothing. Since, there haven’t been many customers in our particular store lately, my manager has been assigning us all projects to occupy our time.
If I was getting paid to do these projects, I’d have no problem folding shirts, reorganizing denim tables, and other menial tasks that fall into the category of “busy work”. However, I am paid by how much I sell. Thus, I’ve been going to work for the past week, working eight hour days, and making no money.
I came to this realization when my manager asked me to total my sales for the two week period and see what I have in so far. I knew I wasn’t doing very well for the pay period, but I didn’t know that I’d only sold $8000. By this time in a two week period I should have sold at least $10,500.
Today was actually one of the best days that I’ve had this pay period. But, when my overly optimistic manager tried to congratulate me on my good day to cheer me up, I told her yes, I did over $2,000 today, but what about everyday last week when I left with only 300 bucks in?
The competition of commission used to be something that I really enjoyed. That was when I was able to sell, $2500 on a bad day. Now it’s a struggle to sell a grand. I’m sick of this commission bullshit. My competence as a salesman has not decreased, but the store volume has, and it’s cutting into my wallet now. This is a major problem. So, I decided it’s time to find a new job.
I applied for a visual merchandising/stylist job at Bloomingdale’s the minute I got home. After all, I must be somewhat good at it, since that’s all my manager has been having me do lately - for free. At least this will be hourly, and I won’t have to deal with bitchy customers wanting me to kiss their asses. Oh, and I also won’t have to deal with my cheer leading manager that leaves us “words of motivation” poems to read in the morning when we come in. Even if I don’t get this job at Bloomingdale’s, at least I have began my job hunt. ‘Cause this shit ain’t working for me anymore.
