Two hours and thirty-seven minutes into my shift, I am asked for the third time, “Are all the tee-shirts on the table for sale?” My answer is based on how many T-shirts the usual crowd of giggling girls has left on the store floor. Assuming the mess in the store is minimal, the classy answer would be a peppy “Yup,” and a winning smile that would easily sway parents to drop anywhere from $15.50 to $24.90 on an overpriced, unoriginal shirt. (It is important to note that spending considerably more cash on a plain white shirt that is loose, slightly see-through and oh-so-soft is perfectly acceptable, at least in my book.) The second option, preferred by anyone who has worked minimum wage, would be slightly darker, with notes of distaste and aloofness laced in between each word. “Why, yes, I do believe that is what that rather large sign happens to say.” Note that although my comrades in retail and I question these parents’ intellect with our remarks, the blasting music that emanates from the store’s speakers will help drown out all that sass. These customers, who receive the blunt end of our frustration and despair, will hear only the word “yes.” Oh, the woes of retail! Stuck in the main room, the time between customers would lengthen, and the sheer boredom of my job would consume me. It was at this point that crazy, incoherent thoughts would start to crop up in my head. Just to give myself something to do, I would constantly contemplate purposely knocking over a table. I’d visualize the fallen shirts on a heap on the floor, and then imagine myself perfectly folding each and every one, briefly escaping the monotony. This brief, three-month stint in retail taught me a lesson. It was a different kind of lesson from those that are taught on campus. The things I learned in retail cannot be gleaned from The Odyssey or History 300. The first lesson, the most obvious, was that I am clearly not meant for retail. The good news is that I can cross that off my list of plausible career paths. But the second lesson, the more important one, was revealed slowly. By watching the interactions between customers and employees, by seeing the coldness with which the two groups interacted, I was instilled with the desire to always be more courteous to those that work in retail and at other jobs I might otherwise ignore. This little epiphany of mine, one that requires a little more kindness and understanding, is just as applicable on campus as it is off-campus. Today at dinner a Commons’ worker was putting away the utensils and instead of grabbing one and rushing away to talk to my friends. I stopped and thanked her. The warmth that I saw in this woman’s smile took me by surprise. It is easy to get swept up in our own lives and forget about the sacrifices people make to make our lives easier. Thankfully, working in retail, as mindless as my job was, taught me to go out of my way and be as kind and courteous as I can to anyone, whether they are a salesperson in a store or a staff member on campus. This is a lesson we can all use to make our school a more amiable and friendly place to live. Kiran Gill is a four year Senior from North Andover, MA.
