Thursday, November 18, 2010
I Was A Teenage Milkmaid
I don't think I've ever talked about the story of how monumentally pathetic my first ever "official" part-time job was. I think I'm old enough to face my demons. The scars from a few years ago have been sufficiently covered up with official paychecks, age and a strange obsession with Starbucks Christmas-edition tumblers.
I think I was either in my final years of secondary school or my first year of college when a question wormed its way into the back of my empty head: "Most of my other friends had a part-time job during their school holidays. Will my future be ruined forever by my lack of pre-adult menial labour in comparison? Will potential employers use my resume as kitty litter because I didn't know how to wait on tables and sell washing machines over the phone?"
It was decided that necessary steps should be taken for me to equip myself with some ammunition for a dark dark future ahead. I told all of my closest friends that if there was word out on the grapevine that there was a part-time job out there that suited my non-existent skills, count me in!
I should have known better then, than to count on friends who were the same age as I was.
Soon enough, one of my friends told me that someone, who was separated from her by 3 degrees, had a sales promoter gig for 3 days. Being sales promoters were all the rage back then, and since I didn't have the necessary height/physique/socially accepted facial bone structure to sell cars or thumbdrives, I took what I could get. What sealed the deal was the fact that it was in a supermarket that was about 10 minutes away from my house. It wasn't walking distance, but at least I had lesser chance of being stranded in the middle of nowhere.
I was terrified, I'll admit. But I had long accepted the fact that the more terrifying something is, the more it'll be good for you if you do it. Since it was during some sort of school/college holiday, I decided I could spare 3 days of not watching Spongebob Squarepants reruns on TV and go to Work.
The job? I was to be a sales promoter in a supermarket for.... MILK! Boxed milk, to be precise. The sort where they come in 6-packs with flavours like chocolate, strawberry, et al. On the way to work, I realised "I can do this shit. I like milk. How hard can it be to convince people to buy milk? One taste and they'll be hooked!"
How very wrong I was.
My first few hours didn't really go too well. All I had were some vague instructions given to me in Cantonese by a supervisor. I was then told that I was dressed wrong for the job and they would have to make do with giving me a worker's tag so that I wouldn't get kicked out of the supermarket. I didn't know what to wear, so the night before, I asked a friend who had some Work experience what was suitable work attire.
Lesson of the day: People who work in offices don't get dressed to sell milk in a supermarket.
Once the paperwork had been sorted out (I had to fill up Forms ZOMG!), I was given a clipboard, a pen, several sheets of stock forms and was led to what would be my post for the next 3 days, 11am - 9pm. I totally knew how the setup was going to be like. I'd get a small booth, stacks of paper cups, maybe a ridiculous hat or apron, pour some milk for people to try, shove some 6-packs under their nose and beg them to buy it. Of course I know how it goes.
Next lesson of the day: You never know how it goes.
Instead of a position in the middle of the supermarket near the frozen dairy section, I was led to the deathly quiet milk and cereal aisle. Instead of getting a booth to give out milk samples, I was given a spot to stand at. I was just told to try and sell milk while standing in the middle of the aisle empty-handed, in front of the shelf where the brand I was working for displayed its products.
I couldn't remember what was in the other aisle.
At the end of every shift, I had to make a note of how many 6-packs I managed to "sell", and replenish the milk stock. My shelf had about 200+ milk 6-packs, so it ought to have lasted a few days.
Right now, I would have questioned my then supervisor about the logic of the job I was assigned to do. But back then, I thought that Work meant having bosses giving you impossible tasks and you just do it without killing anyone. So I just nodded, said bye to my supervisor and was left alone for 10 hours in the middle of the milk and cereal aisle. Before he left, he told me that someone would come by to check up on me the next day.
The first few hours were uneventful. And awkward. I didn't know what to do as I just stood there smiling at people who walked past with their trolleys. It was a weekday morning, so there weren't a lot of people around. I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I rearranged the milk aisle. Once I was done with that, I rearranged the cereal aisle. I didn't know what to do with my feet, so I walked up and down the aisle repeatedly. I didn't know what to do with my eyes so I read the labels on cereal boxes, milk powder and muesli bars. I didn't know what to do with my mouth either, so I talked to the janitor and the people who came by every few hours on forklifts to stock up the shelves. I spent most of the day getting in the way of people's shopping trolleys too.
Once in awhile, I would somehow manage to convince people to put a 6-pack milk into their trolleys. I like to think that most of it made it to the counters, instead of being stuffed behind the instant noodle shelf 3 aisles away. A ton of people asked me why I didn't have samples to give them if I wanted them to buy the milk. I don't know what I answered to make them take the milk from my hands, but it would have been short of grovelling on the floor, clutching the hem of their pants and spilling tears, mucus and my hopes and dreams on their shoes.
At the end of my first day, I managed to move about 15 milk 6-packs.
On the second day, I had my first taste of what it felt like to be jaded and stoned at work. I had become a corporate zombie. I dreaded going to that aisle. I counted down the minutes till I could clock out. If I had colleagues, I would have been complaining about the long hours, low pay and lack of dental plans.
I had long exhausted my list of things I could have done to make time go faster. Within a few hours, I was bored out of my mind. I started making conversation with condensed milk tins. I thought up adventures I could have in Cap'n Crunch Land. I came up with recipes using milk powder, muesli bars and strawberry jam.
But there were still people shopping for groceries in the supermarket, and I had my fair share of questions and "selling" to do. Since it was a quiet day, I took a slightly extended lunch break and got to my post a little later than usual. I was such a rebel.
When I got back from lunch, there were a few people in the milk aisle and lots of screaming children. I hated dealing with children then (that has not changed). A young couple were staring and poking around at the milk shelf I was supposed to be taking care of. Since I never had people actually willingly take interest in the product I was "selling", I didn't know how to respond to this.
So I did what any self-respecting promoter would do - I stood awkwardly at the end of aisle and hid out of sight until they went away.
The problem was, they didn't go away. Not as fast as I would have liked. And I didn't want to look like I was going to steal the baby from the shopping trolley parked next to me, so I went up to them and alerted them of my presence. I was immediately bombarded with a barrage of questions about the milk from my shelf. I mumbled, shrugged, grunted and snorted my way through the dairy interrogation. Eventually, they took a few packs and left. Crisis averted. Life saved. Some milk sold.
It was an exceptionally slow day and in the evening, my supervisor came to see how I was doing. He had a few choice words for me, and they were not what I wanted to hear. Apparently, the dairy FBI I encountered earlier were not the ordinary shoppers I thought they were. They were some pretty important people who were Not Pleased with my performance. If it sounds like I was in trouble, I probably was.
I panicked. 2 new situations in one day was too much for my brain to process. After moping about miserably, a switch clicked in my head. I was determined not to go down without a fight. I was going to be the best milk promoter on this side of town. I rolled up my sleeves, rearranged my shelf, yelled "THIS. IS. DAIRYYYYYYYYY!!" (ok the movie hadn't existed yet, but if it did, that's what I would have shouted) and for the next 2 hours, became a lean, mean, milk-selling machine.
At the end of my second day, I managed to almost clear my entire shelf (only because I couldn't reach the ones right at the back). Almost 200 packs of milk were gone and there was a void of 3 levels of empty shelves in the milk aisle.
Later that night, I got a phone call.
I didn't have to go in to work the next day.
6 comments
