Zero, Two, Four… Hut!!

I am proud to say that I wear a size 4 petite (known as “4P” in retail world). In fact, sometimes I wear a 2P, depending on the cut of the garment.

I used to be pretty overweight, and through a lot of exercise and healthy eating over the past two years, I have managed to shed 40 pounds and countless inches and become this size I knew I was always meant to be.

I still sometimes think of myself as the “fat girl” because that’s the image with which I grew up. I was never naturally skinny or lean. I even went to fat camp during the summers!!

I was feeling all proud of myself for shedding the weight before my adventures in retail began. However, now that I work in the land of double zeros, being a four seems gargantuan. I mean, when a zero walks up to you, you feel like a cow even though you’re a four.

On the flip side, larger women sometimes come into the store and ask which sizes we carry. We carry up to a size 16 in the store, but clients can order larger sizes online. These women make me feel tiny. And they make me feel guilty for being tiny, even though I was once in their shoes.

I guess it’s all in the perspective you have. I very much appreciate the body I have now, but it doesn’t make things any easier when I’m dressing a mannequin that wears an extra-small, or a size zero.

No wonder most women strive to have the perfect figure and are never satisfied. The retail-land gods don't make it easy to accept your body as it is and love it.

Ahhh... the holidays

During the week leading up to Christmas Day, we were busy. I was on vacation from my full-time job, so my manager let me work days instead of closing at night. You wouldn’t believe the number of men who came in and needed help shopping for their wife or their girlfriend (hopefully, not both!!).

This one fellow agonized over the purchase of a $9 dress that was left over from our summer inventory. Seriously? You’re going to buy your significant other a $9 dress for Christmas? And he did.

This other guy came in and told me his wife only likes to shop in our store and in another store that sells clothes that are either black or white (you can easily guess which store I’m talking about).

When I asked him what colors his wife liked, he replied, “It really doesn’t matter what she likes. I only like her dressing in black, white or grey.” WHAT?!? You’re shopping for a gift for your wife and you’re going to buy her clothes in colors that she may not want to wear, but in which you want to see her? Seriously... who does that?!?

To add insult to injury, this guy put a few things on hold because he was meeting friends in the mall for lunch. After lunch, he came back and I once again assisted him. He said he was in a hurry. That’s not MY fault, is it? You’re the one who is so controlling that you can’t pick out something your wife would like and you want me to speed up your checkout?

This was one of those times where I momentarily stepped outside my body and thought, “Is this my life? Have I been reduced to helping asses like this?”

The best male client during the holiday season was this man who came in with his two young daughters the day before Christmas. He wandered around a bit and I asked if I could help him. He replied and told me he was just looking around.

A little while later, he did take me up on my offer to assist. He basically let me put together FIVE complete outfits for his wife. And when I say “complete,” I mean it!! The wife got shirts, pants, camisoles, jewelry and a cashmere sweater. The guy spent close to $400 and when I had finished wrapping everything, he was genuinely appreciative. I thought his wife would be so incredibly happy the next morning. I really hope she was. I know I would've been.

The Beginning

This is a blog about my part-time gig at a national women’s clothing chain store. Before I got this job, I had never worked retail before (unless you consider working at my parents’ drugstore while I was in high school to be “retail.” I mean, I did sell my fair share of condoms, tampons and all things Hallmark).

This job was necessary for me to obtain several months ago due to my mom’s decline in health, which surrendered her unable to work and forced my younger brother and me to financially support her, and my former spouse’s “a-ha” moment when he decided it was okay to no longer pay his share of a quarter-of-a-million dollar mortgage on the townhouse we built together.

I’m not bitter that I have to work two jobs and that my weekends aren’t my own anymore. I’m also not bitter that I have to hang up other people’s (read: GROWN women’s) clothes from the floor and get paid a menial salary for such. No, it’s just the opposite. I appreciate this gig for all it has taught me about humanity. About the kindness of people. About the smile I can bring to a woman’s face who has just tried on – and bought – the perfectly-fitted pant or suit jacket. But most of all, I am grateful it has given me such great material to start this blog.

So, dear readers, please live vicariously through me as you read about my adventures in retail. I will not disclose the name of the store at which I work, nor its location, and I will keep all names and identifying characteristics confidential. Ready for a few laughs? Here we go… !!