I stand amidst the two tonnes of stock in my shop, defending some policy someone wrote up at their comfortable desk miles away from face to face conflict, to a woman who can’t seem to understand why my hands are tied behind my back while I’m being smacked in the face by procedures I have to stick to whether I believe in them or not.
I understand her, I would be angry too but because she didn’t bother to read the policies posted on walls, printed on receipts and taped to counters she’s losing out and no matter how many phone numbers or emails of line managers I give her I know they won’t budge on it.
It makes me wonder how much small print I really miss walking through life in my rushed blur of an existence, things I wouldn’t discover until it was too late. Everyone is guilty of skimming past the six to twenty five page terms and conditions of everything there ever was but working here it’s amazing how people can avoid reading the six sentences of quite an important policy concerning their rights as customers. I’m not obliged to recite it every time I serve them, I’d be out of breath.
The truth of the matter is I absolutely loathe this company, their lack of experience in dealing with the general public drives me to madness and their silly little policies and procedures are what leave me a handful of refusals away from a black eye or worse every week of the year. I want to over rule them and say “here’s your solution” but I suppose I would lose my job. It threatens my life fighting for something I don’t believe in.
However the harsh fact of the matter is if I fulfilled my dream of slapping my resignation on the desk of my employer and catwalking it out of their cushy little office I couldn’t confidently walk into another job at a company that I do believe in. Blame the government, country, education, there honestly is nowhere for me to go.