With the following entry, I hope to teach you why it is important to never load a $20 collapsible rolling rack beyond its maximum capacity.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
I'm standing at the cash wrap on the sales floor completing the usual mundane paperwork that is required to kick off a day in the retail business. As this process requires little thought, I'm probably daydreaming about what I might buy that day, or what I might blog about that evening. Perhaps what I'll eat for dinner. Lord only knows where this mind might stray when I should be concentrating on how many credit cards we need to make our monthly goal or other things of the sort.
I'm suddenly snapped out of my reverie by my associate (and best friend) loudly hollering from the back room, "CAROLINE!" with utter urgency in her voice.
Not wanting to be bothered with tottering back there in my heels, I holler back, and receive the following response: "GET BACK HERE IMMEDIATELY!"
I grudgingly make my way to the back of the store, where I find said associate, who in this entry will be known as Angry Eyebrows Associate, holding on with all her might to the rolling rack below. Veins were throbbing on her forehead with strain as she attempted to keep its contents from splattering to the floor in disorder.
Angry Eyebrows Associate barks for me to grab the rapidly collapsing rolling rack from the other side. We heave upwards, but strangely, nothing happens. The rolling rack does not move. Angry Eyebrows' face gets redder and redder. Thus, not only does this experience teach me that rolling racks are incompetent, but so is my upper arm strength. Note to self: Buy some 10-pounders.
In the end, we let the whole thing fall to the floor. It wasn't worth our sweat.
Now you may be thinking, "That doesn't look like a very big mess," but I beg to differ. Unfortunately for the credibility of this blog, I only collected my thoughts enough to snap this picture after about a third of the carnage had been cleaned up.
You see, our stock procedure is very delicate. These clothes, now strewn haphazardly on a dirty, dusty floor, had previously been unfolded, hung, buttoned, zipped, steamed, and organized into size order before being given a temporary home on this clearly unworthy rolling rack.
We made a decision to not tell any of our stock co-workers about this experience. Keep the secret for us, will you?
So, fashionistas with small closets beware: Adding a spare rolling rack may not be the answer.
But if you find yourself with a collapsing bar of clothes anyway, don't call me for help. Call the Incredible Hulk instead.