This Is Not News

These days, some people view holiday shopping as a sport or game: collecting the best coupons, sussing out the best deals, beating the crowds, picking the right stores at the right time, suriving the long lines without having to use the bathroom… It takes physical and mental strength, right? If shopping is your game, this is your season. So lace up your comfy shoes, fire up your shopping smart phone apps, and enjoy.

One thing I will ask you to keep in mind this season is that there are no extra points or bonus credits for ripping apart retail employees in the course of your shopping. They are not your enemy, there’s no need to treat them as such. I’ve assembled a list of five things you may not know about retail employees which I hope encourages you to spread a little more holiday spirit and little less retail rage when you shop this season.

1. Retail employees work insane hours.
In the somewhat fictional, sepia-toned time of Norman Rockwell’s painting of an improbably large and perfect Thanksgiving turkey, the only people working on this holiday were police officers, firefighters, hospital workers, and other essential workers, most of whom got holiday pay for sacrificing their “family time for the greater good. In our high-definition, modern reality, Thanksgiving seems to have become yet another meal we rush through in order to get to something else. That ‘something else’ being a sale on the latest gaming console at the local electronics store that requires you to line up at 5pm for the 10pm store opening. Think about it: if you’re in line at 5pm on Thanksigiving, and the store opens at 10pm on Thanksgiving, it means that dozens of employees who work at that store were there all day, stocking, cleaning, and getting the store ready for you. They didn’t eat Thanksgiving dinner and they will likely be there for most of the night and into the following day. For some, they’ll get six to eight hours off, to eat, sleep, change, etc. before they need to be back again for the next shift. No one gets Black Friday off, not if they want to keep their jobs.

And Black Friday is just the start. Most stores have extended hours throughout the holiday season. That means closing at 11pm, restocking through the night and re-opening at 7am for nearly eight weeks. If the person ringing up your purchase looks a little bleary-eyed, this is why.

2. Retail salaries are low, with very few benefits.
Sure the hours are insane, but retail workers get paid well to compensate, right? Wrong. Labor unions are non-existent at the major retailers these days so there’s very little pressure for national retailers to pay very much above minimum wage. That fact, coupled with high unemployment, means that there is no shortage of new workers to replace the ones who complain, burnout, or get fired. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the average non-commissioned retail sales employee makes just over $9 per hour with few, if any, benefits to boost their overall compensation.

Most retailers manage their employee payrolls systematically to keep the majority of their employees just under the threshold for which the law demands that the employees be given medical and other benefits. So that means if you work full-time and have medical coverage, the person waiting on you in your favorite store works one or two hours less per week and gets none.

Most retail employees are eligible for a modest employee discount at the stores where they work, often between 10% and 15%. However, these days, any savvy online shopper with a good search engine can match or exceed that on any given sale day so can it really be called a perk?

3. Retail workers do not order stock or set the sales.
So your favorite store put ads out everywhere touting the fact that they will have half-price Whatevers on sale starting at 11pm on Thanksgiving night. Those Whatevers are sooooooo expensive and hard to find, so you get yourself there, line up in the cold, and have your credit card at the ready. But cue sad trombone, the ad didn’t exaclty say that each store was only getting two of said Whatevers and the extreme couponer in line ahead of you got them both. So what now? Well, if you’re like most people, you march over to the first store employee you see and you tear them a new one, right?

Um…why exactly? Let’s think about this. Did the store employee you’re ripping apart actually order the shipment of Whatevers from China? Did he or she actually decide that each store would only get two? Did he or she decide how much the discount would be? The answer to all of those is almost certainly no. Let’s get this straight, the people who make ordering, shipping, and cost decisions for major retailers make way more than $9 per hour, don’t wear logo imprinted polo shirts, and are sure as Hell not going to be in a store on 11pm on Thanksgiving night. Store employees, even store managers have no say in these decisions. The stores are expected to execute sales directives, make sales goals, and keep costs down. That’s it. Even if the employee you tear apart passes on your complaint to the “higher ups” it’s likely to get lost in the internal bureacracy because corporate offices never take employee complaints seriously.

If you have a complaint, make it to corporate yourself. Do it publicly on their Facebook page or to their Twitter account. The likelihood for real change or compensation is much higher.

4. If they could open more registers, they would. Seriously.
Long retail lines during the holiday season are a fact of life but isn’t it infuriating when there are eight registers and only four of them are open? I completely agree! Someone get me the store manager so I can tell him or her that this simply cannot be tolerated. Yes, the same store manager who has no power in the corporate structure and whose promotion to store manager likely meant that he or she gets to work twice as many hours for a fixed salary instead of an hourly rate with some overtime. The store manager who is given a strict holiday payroll budget in September which is based on maxmizing profits, not on customer service. Give it a shot. You can certainly make your opinions known. You can even yell or scream a bit. It’s not going to be the first time this manager has gotten yelled at today and it probably won’t be the last. It also probably won’t get any more registers open either. My advice, shop early in the morning or later in the day on weekdays, as store hours allow. The lines will be shorter.

5. Retail workers have not declared “war” on Christmas, they have to follow a script.
Thanks to the modern innovation that is mystery shopping, almost every second of your three-to-five minute interaction at the cash register of a major retailer is now scripted. They have to ask you if you found everything you need (even though there’s not much they can do if you didn’t), they have to pitch you on the store credit card (even though the last thing they want to do with a long line of customers is check your credit), and they have to give you a cheery greeting and farewell (even though they’re probably so tired they can’t remember what year it is). The fact that the last item may be “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” or whatever seasonal holiday you enjoy, is not their choosing. The corporate office likely wrote the script based on focus group research and whole bunch of other factors that have nothing to do with the person packing up your newly purchased sweaters. The employees have to follow it to the letter or they can be fired or, at best, lose any slim hope they have of bonus pay. So feel free to reply “Merry Christmas” in your snottiest voice at the employee who tells you to have a “Happy Holiday.” That embodies to spirit of the season and will likely make their day.

Or you could both just say “have a nice day” and mean it.

Bottom line: it’s all about profits.
I know it sounds like I’m going out of my way to make excuses for retail employees and I admit to being somewhat biased. I managed a retail shopping mall for three years. While there are lousy retail employees out there (I certainly fired my share), the vast majority just want to do their jobs well, earn their pay, and support their families. They don’t want to make your lives harder nor do they want to ruin your holiday. They rely on shoppers and need you to come back. Unfortunately, most of the key decisions that impact the shoppping experience are made by people who don’t set foot in the stores at all, let alone during the holiday season. Keep in mind, most major retailers in this country are publically traded companies. A successful holiday season for them maximizes profits to shareholders, not positive experiences for customers. It’s not likely to change until customers remind them, en masse, that the two are not mutally exclusive.

Happy Shopping!

A mental challenge requiring intense focus and concentration? Check.
A physical challenge requiring muscle strength, coordination, and conditioning? Check.
An emotional challenge requiring compassion, understanding and intuition? Check.

Fur wristlets? Sequined headband? Pink lip gloss? Curling Iron? Check, check, check.

Welcome one and all to the recap of my baptism by fire into the stress-filled world of dance recitals. It’s me, my five-year-old daughter Alex, 160 other mother-daughter teams, and one heck of learning curve.

Day One – The Saturday 7:30 PM Show

Right off the bat, it’s important to know that recitals for this particular dance school are not a one-shot event. There are three performances spread over two days. I’m not sure how common this is but most of the newer dance moms (myself included) were a little taken aback by this format. Thankfully, we were informed several months ago giving us plenty of time to adjust to the fact that we would get nothing else in our lives done on recital weekend.

Having attended my niece’s dance recital a year earlier I had a vague idea of what was required in the backstage area and packed accordingly: costumes, two, carefully wrapped in plastic, accessories for each number (the aforementioned wristlets and headbands), clean tap and jazz shoes, laces, hairbrush, hairspray, extra makeup, snacks and beverages, small coloring book, crayons. And last but not least, the child, dressed in an outfit that does not have to go over her head to be removed lest we disturb the makeup and sponge curlers that were so carefully applied some time earlier (by my sister).

I guide my little dancer into the massive dressing room and instantly realize something. Despite my planning and vague notions of preparedness gleaned from my sister, I am an amateur. The pros are already here. The mothers with multiple daughters or with daughters who have been dancing in recitals for five or even ten years have commandeered the space along one entire wall. They do not just have small lunch bags with snacks to keep five-year old tummies at bay. They have rolling coolers, fruit baskets, trays of cheese and crackers, cold cut platters, dips, spreads…Is that brie?

The veterans also have portable sewing machines, state-of-the-art curling irons, and nerves of steel. They talk amongst themselves and rarely wander over to the newbies. They’re not aloof, just focused. In the zone. Their zone. Not ours. They pull beverages out of their coolers and toss them to each other with practiced ease while pinning feather headpieces atop heads of perfectly shaped curls. Their daughters have brought flip-flops and full-length robes to wear between performances. If I had ever wondered what tailgating at a Broadway show would look like, now I know.

The newbie moms like myself look at them in awe. We are not worthy. In truth, even among the newbies, they are varying levels of preparedness. Most of us have packed snacks and activities for their children for the downtime in between their two numbers. We have scissors, needles and thread for emergency costume repairs, cameras for the all-important cute backstage photos, and lots of tissues and washcloths in case of accidents. The truly frazzled have not thought about food and are at the mercy of the vending machines. Some have also left some important items in the car and now have to dash back to fetch them, with fussy five-year olds in tap shoes perched on their hips. The good thing about being a newbie, though, is the camaraderie. We are all scared out of our wits and anxious to help each other out. Left Kylie’s fringe skirt in the car? Don’t worry; I’ll watch her while you get it. Brooke’s bangs falling? Do you need to borrow some hairspray? Yes, of course, Brittany can share Madison’s crayons.

The show itself is a hurry-up-and-wait frenzy of dressing the children, waiting for their number, dashing them to the stage director, racing to the ‘mom’ area in the auditorium to watch the performance, running back down the hall to catch and hug the children as they exit the stage and run back to the dressing room to dress for the next routine. We don’t watch the clock. We watch the closed circuit TV feed of the stage to mark time. What’s on? Number 24? Is that enough time to take Emma to the potty before their next number? The mothers stand and pace. The girls sprawl out on the floor in their sequined dresses and color and draw to pass the time. Some snack on dry things like crackers and baby carrots. They drink water. Nothing runny and nothing that stains. Lip gloss will need to be reapplied, though. Legs ache from pacing. Arms ache from holding fidgeting children. Voices are hoarse from cheering from the mom section at the end of each number.

The finale ends and we change our weary dancers back into their street clothes and pack up, hoping that tomorrow with be easier. At home, Dave offers to spell me backstage the next day so I can sit in the audience and see the entire show. I remind him of the large sign on the dressing room door that states “No Men Allowed.� The drama of the backstage, complete with females with names like Alexis, big hair, and high tension, is a soap opera that only moms and daughters are permitted to see.

Day Two – The Sunday 1:30 PM Show

This show is affectionately known as the In-Law Show. It seems that most of the newbie moms invited their parents to the Saturday show and their spouses’ parents to the Sunday afternoon show. As a result, most of us are on edge because our mothers-in-law have threatened to come backstage to the dressing room and “help.� Perhaps with that in mind, we’ve packed and planned down to the last detail, emulating the veteran moms whenever possible. Snack bags are larger and more plentiful. We have blankets, more coloring books and the occasional plush toy to calm cranky kids. We agree that there’s no point in dressing the girls too soon just to have them wait around in piles of sequins and tulle. No, we’ll dress them when we’re three numbers away from their call and not a minute sooner but after a potty break. One little girl got a fever yesterday and had to go home, missing her last number and the rest of the weekend. Not taking any chances, a couple of moms packed cold compresses.

By this time, all the newbie kids are comfortable with all the newbie moms and one mom can stand in for another. Kids beg the closest mom for a book or a new crayon. Moms take whole groups of kids on potty breaks for maximum efficiency. Snacks are now communal.

We’re hitting our stride. As we strip the tulle dresses off of our girls and replace them with sequined fringe, we trade ideas over the best course of actions for the break between the afternoon and evening shows. Should we try to get the girls to nap? Eat? Will their curls hold up? A few newbie moms have been talking to the girls in the fifteen- to-eighteen-year-old dance groups about the variety of hairpiece options available at beauty supply stores. Ponytails of ringlets that stay put, blend well, and bounce naturally for less than $25? Many are already sold on the idea for next year. I’m skeptical. Alex’s hair is short, curls rather easily and hello? She’ll be all of six at the next show. Let’s not rush things. I’ve only just gotten used to the idea of putting makeup on her.

Two hours later, though, I’m re-setting her now-flattened curls in sponge rollers and wondering if I’ll ever be good at it.

Day Two – The Sunday 7:30 PM Show

Our kids want their trophies. They’ve been promised these trophies since the start of the dance year and they know that they’ll get them tonight. But just in case that isn’t true, one of them asks about it every 45 seconds, just to be sure. This is enough to make the waiting for their turn seem twice as long. Thankfully, I have learned from the last two days and brought a giant storybook along for this show. I sit Alex and her best dance friend down on a blanket, let each pick a story and begin reading aloud. Five minutes later, I am surrounded by little girls on my blanket, even some older ones, who are eager to show off their reading skills. The time flies and soon it’s time for their performance.

The girls love the stage by now and at least two break protocol to wave at family members when they are supposed to be tapping. They look like frosted cupcakes in their tulle dresses so it doesn’t matter. They’re cute. Afterward, the moms race back to meet them as they exit the stage and catch something even cuter. As the line of three- to-five-year-old tappers leaving the stage passes the line of seven- to nine-year-old tappers entering the stage, they all high-five one another, murmuring ‘good job, good job’ as if they were ball players on opposing teams. It’s completely spontaneous, impossibly adorable, and no one catches it on camera. Bummer.

I watch from the back of the auditorium as Dave basically performs Alex’s second number with her from his seat and then screams himself hoarse as she finally gets her gold-toned trophy. We surprise her with three star-shaped balloons as we leave the theater and there’s no happier kid in the world. It’s 10:30 PM and she’s not even tired. We snap some pictures of her in her costume with her trophy until I take it off of her and pack it away in plastic. She dances around the living room with her balloons reminding me of why I suggested dance lessons in the first place. I ask if she had fun and if she wants to do dance classes in the fall. She nods rapidly and answers yes to both questions and keeps dancing.

For a moment she’s happy and so am I, albeit a little tired. And I enjoy this blissful moment of parenthood.

Three minutes later she gets her balloons wrapped around the dining room ceiling fan.

Moment’s over.

There’s no real point to this post, just waffles…shaped like keyboards, but I think they’re pretty cool.

Made on a waffle iron composed of re-purposed typewriter parts, this is recycling at its most delicious. Pass the organic maple syrup and locally grown CSA berries, please.