Our trip to France has now become a saga. Thank goddess my clothing is packed.
In the span of over ten years that Bonaparte and I have been traveling back and forth to France together, we’ve never crossed the Atlantic via Air France.
We were all set to fly overseas via Air France for the first time!
We’ve flown Air France from Paris to Nice and back to Paris while staying in Theoule and never had any problems. It’s always been a pleasure.
This time around Bonaparte had the grand idea of flying Air France from JFK because of that new fancy-schmancy airbus with the cool and comfy seats that we would be sitting on in Business Class.
Looking at this seat, I now realize why Bonaparte wanted to fly business class. He wouldn’t have to be seated so close to me! I am more worried that my fat ass would get stuck in these little pod seats.
Our flights from JFK work out well because we drop our car at my sister’s house. She lives on Long Island—not too far from JFK. Therefore it makes sense that she drops us of at the airport. Upon our arrival, either she, or my brother-in-law drives the car back to JFK’s short term parking before our flight home. We’ve worked this out like a fine-tuned machine!
Our plan was to get a connecting Air France flight to Nice upon landing at CDG.
Are you following?
Remember this for later. Please……
So on Thursday, I entered upon the gates of Retail Hell. Once again, I had to close. To start off, I wasn’t in the best of moods.
Add to that, a snooty customer who had bad fillers and over processed hair came in and insisted that we sold Christian Louboutin clutch bags.
This is the type of customer we had to deal with. Bad fillers and an even worse attitude!
We explained that we do not sell Louboutin clutches.
We all remained incredibly professional with this horrific woman.
She proceeded to tell us that we were wrong and she did, in fact, see one of his bags in our department.
No lady. We don’t sell this clutch nor do we sell this model shoe. You are delusional. Go back to Neiman’s.
What’s worse is that every time we told her we did not sell “Christian Louboutin” purses, she corrected us by retorting in the most condescending and sickening tone “I didn’t say Louis Vuitton. I said Christian Louboutin!”
Yo bitch, I know Louis V. better than you ever will! Bonaparte’s grandfather took this photo for a Vuitton ad! Boo ya!
I wanted to say “Vous ĕtes un cochon madame putain!” But I refrained.
These cute little cochons are a lot nicer!
It was also a lousy afternoon because the register hoarders were collecting all the expensive strays.
Then a bitch from the handbag department of a sister store called. Naturally, I always answer the phone in my executive assistant voice of “Good Evening. Ladies Handbags. How may I assist you?”
And I spoke in my sweetest voice. I was angelic and adorable!
And I’m greeted back with “Your department lost a DESIGNER bag that I ordered for a customer. It wasn’t shipped and it’s your fault. WHO TOOK CARE OF THIS. I WANT YOUR MANAGER!!!”
And instead of saying “ Vous ĕtes un cochon madame “. I very sweetly explained “Well, I’m working with a customer right now. There is no need to speak to me in the tone that you are using. I will look into this before I close”.
What happened next was a temper tantrum from a very aggressive sales assistant who seemed to think that her minute percentage of commission was going to place her into the one percent of our country’s earners. I transferred her to the Manager in Charge.
Can we act a bit more grown up and not like a child having a tantrum?
And all was settled when the MIC came over and took the bag that was NOT lost to shipping. It was evening. The bag wouldn’t have been shipped until the next morning…
And that left me even more pissed off.
Commission sucks. It turns sales assistants into greedy, nasty, vile people who bully others over a couple of bucks and they become aggressive and pathetic indviduals.
Greed is one of the seven deadly sins. So is gluttony. Commission is two deadly sins in one!
I don’t like what commission has done to me.
Thank you Gifsoup for allowing me to see what commission has done to me!
It has turned me into a miserable being. Really. It has.
It’s true. I USED to be such a nice person. It’s not fair that I’m now so miserable. I want to return to my Mother Teresa status!
The evening turned out to be a good one, but I was rewarded with really nice customers. I like working alone. It is relaxing and the steady flow offers a chance to get a couple of decent sales.
And then the store closes at 9:30. But because great customer service means allowing the stragglers, who most likely are serial returners, to continue to shop for one or two random items, the store really closes at 10:30.
And so, by the real closing time all the sales assistants are in a very, very bad mood. I am one of those sales assistants.
And when I got into the car, the car that Bonaparte kindly dropped me off at Retail Hell earlier in the day and then drove back to pick me up from Retail Hell, I didn’t speak. I wanted to be alone.
My feet hurt from standing for nine hours straight. My ass hurt. My thighs hurt. My lady parts hurt. My calves hurt. My back hurt. My head hurt. My eyes were so crossed that I saw triple instead of double.
We arrived home in silence.
Then Bonaparte dropped the bombshell.
Air France was going on strike.
Really? Are you not making enough money to begin with? You have great healthcare benefits and great food and great wine..and you’re on strike????
Ohhhh..it’s so hard to stay mad at the French pilots–they are just so handsome! Aren’t they the epitome of French Style with those Breton shirts draped over their shoulders. Fashion experts need to see that! And those accents….
We stayed up very late into the evening to make a mad scramble to reinvent our itinerary. Successfully, we booked on another airline. Thankfully there were a few seats left!
When all else fails, get an American to step in and save the day!
We received a credit from Air France which isn’t all that bad considering we can use the tickets on our next trip back to Paris. Hopefully, Air France won’t be striking on our next booking.
Bonaparte also rented a car for us so that we could drive from Paris to Theoule. It’ll take seven hours but we would have had a three-hour layover for a connecting flight to Nice from CDG anyway. At this point, what’s a four-hour loss?
Although this Citroen is my favorite car of all time, it would not be a wise choice for driving from Paris to Theoule. It would take more than seven hours!
So that’s my hissy fit…
Oh yes. I DID have this kind of hissy fit!
And I remained a bit hissy until Friday.
Something great happened.
As I was writing instructions for a new hire on how to close the register for the evening, a woman appeared in front of me at the counter.
*oh goddess* I’m becoming emotional now…
It was Sharon, one of my little circle of blog reader friends. We met for the first time!
I felt as though we knew each other forever! In the short time we got to meet and speak with each other, the dark cloud that had been hovering overhead burst and rays of sunshine broke through!
Sharon D. and little ol’ me!
Happiness is meeting one of your blog reader friends for the first time—it’s meeting an old friend for the very first time and realizing that life is full of great little wondrous moments!
It is the happy that wipes the shit from the fan–and I had plenty of it the past few days!
Thank you Sharon, thank you so much for lifting me out of that place where I was so miserable and thank you for bringing me to that happy place.
Shirley Temple sang it so well–Come and Get Your Happiness!
