Work-Appropriate (?) Fashion Decisions

There’s nothing like digging through the mystery boxes that live in out-of-the-way nooks to remind a person of forgotten moments. Photos, pieces of carefully folded and saved paper, business cards, name tags, and stray articles of clothing.

These things track my past decisions- show what brought me to where I am now, both in my career and in my personal life.

Doing the #GreatSeasonalClothingSwap tends to bring these memories to light as I sift through sartorial decisions that were either too well-loved or expensive for me to pitch.

I’ve gone through many many many fashion phases, most of them during my time as a bookseller.

Some are more forgettable than others.

There was the time someone said I looked good in pink. I don’t know if it was the thrill of receiving a complement at a time I was feeling decided an un-yummy mummy, but pink it was for quite some time.

Never one to do things halfway, I was not satisfied with a small touch of pink here and there.

Oh no! I could have been auditioning to be the fabled missing pink Teletubby.

Pepto-pink slacks, pink sweater, pink shoes.

I even had a pink velour tunic for the really dressy times. (You know, the ones they sold at Lerner’s before they became NY&Co.)

My manager, who loathed the color pink with the same fervor that I embraced it, noticeably blanched when I messed up our days off and mistakenly wore it when she was working.

There was no missing me on those days, though. Nope- easy to spot.

Then there was the Johnny-Cash-lass-in-black phase. Kids, I was goth when goth wasn’t cool.

Black blouse/t shirt/pants/leggings/shoes/boots/headband (because the 90’s).

Black Black Black.

I loved it. Everything matched.

Didn’t show the dirt from unpacking, climbing ladders, bagging trash, changing register ribbons. No effort at all.

Which is, regrettably, what it looked like.

On me it didn’t look artfully chic. It looked like I had no imagination or style.

I had a brief fling, too, with other trends:

• vests
• flounced sleeves
• vests-and-flounced-sleeves (I was a risk-taker!)
• stirrup pants (we must never speak of those)
• chinos and blue button-downs
• ‘conversation’ pins (worn on weekends since people were looking at my chest anyway)
• holiday sweaters (sometimes even worn with a sense of irony, but more often missing the irony and solidly hitting the tacky)

Regardless of the clothing I wore one thing never changed.

One thing I seldom, if ever, was without: my name badge. It was a part of our audit. A part of our Secret Shop (urgh- just typing that made my palms sweat). We had to wear it at all times.

It was, so we were told, to make it east for customers to identify us. It never seemed to help.

As a bookstore employee you are asked many questions:

• Where’s the restroom?
• What’s your return policy? (I called this the 'pre-nup' question)
• Is this book any good?
• Can you just copy this page for me?
• Do I need a receipt to bring this back? (yup: pre-nup)
• Where’s your non-fiction?
• How many days do I have to bring this back? (this book is so coming back...)
• How much is this if I pay cash?
• Do you have that blue book that was in the front of your store last year?
• If I use my charge card can I just stop payment if I don’t like it, or do I need to bring this back first?
• Can I get cash back without a receipt? (why are you actually buying this book....?)
• Are these books in any sort of order?
• Could you go check in the back?

But by far the question you hear the most, name badge or not, is “Do you work here?”

More often than not it’s when you are hanging by the crook of your arm from a ladder, piling books on a high shelf.

At very special times it’s when you are ringing a register and bagging purchases. Other times you are answering a phone marked “For Employee Use Only”.

During December it’s possible you are doing all three things at once, and could still be asked if you ‘work there”.

It’s Time for the Seasonal Employees to Begin Their Jobs

As the weather gets colder, the days grow longer, the product more scarce, the schedule more piecemeal, the tempers shorter, I think of all those booksellers and other retail employees pinning on a nametag and stepping onto the battlefield of the salesfloor.

They keep the font on the badge LARGE, the letters even, the tag placed high enough not to feel uncomfortable when someone stares at their chest.

They are ready to Greet, Respond, Engage, Ask, and Thank you.

They can Welcome, Assess your needs, Listen, Develop the sale, Engage, and do the Next steps.

They make eye contact and try to intercept your needs.

(It’s such an ingrained habit that even now I have strangers ask me to locate things like: French fried onions in a grocery store, dog leashes in a Target, and powdered milk in an Aldi’s.)

36 years ago next month I pinned on my name badge for the first time. I had no idea what was in store for me.

Although that is probably for the best, I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

Now- where IS that pink velour tunic?

~~~~~

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