Everything in our world today, at least as far as the internet is concerned, seems to come in Top Ten List form. I really can't think of many things about the auto parts business that can be quantified in tidy groups of ten, except of course for irritations. Those I have plenty of. Everyone thinks we parts guys are crabby for no reason. Well, there's a reason. It's probably you. So with mild further ado, here's my list of things that will make your auto parts shopping experience much less likely to result in the the miserable asshole behind the counter strangling you. Some of these may even apply to other real world situations in every day life, so pay attention.
10). Don't ask how to install your part.
We are not mechanics. We sell parts for a living, we don't install them. If you don't know how to install the thing that you are buying, you probably shouldn't be buying it. Go to a garage, and pay someone to fix your car before you kill yourself because you put your brakes on wrong. The end.
9). If you're just price shopping, please say so.
We understand that there are many retailers you can buy your parts from, and that in our modern world of internets and such, a smart shopper will explore all paths before parting with their money. Please don't waste 10 or 15 minutes of our time by having us look up dozens of parts for your car that you aren't going to buy. Believe it or not, we have more important shit to do.
8). Respect the store hours.
This should be an easy one. Don't come in 19 seconds after we officially open and expect us to be all polite and smiley. I have actually had people follow me into the store and stand there while I turn the lights on and start up my computers. I usually ignore them and go about my routine at least until the coffee is done. Conversely, don't come in minutes before closing and expect us to give a flying fart about your problems. We've been open for 9 hours, check your watch.
7). We are not a bank.
If you just got paid and all you have are hundreds and fifties, please do not go to an auto parts store and buy a $1.59 gallon of windshield washer fluid and expect us to break your hundred dollar bill. Fuck you.
6). Don't assume the counterman doesn't know what he/she is doing.
Most auto parts counter people have a surly streak (in case you couldn't tell) which usually results in us not chatting much while we're searching for whatever obscure thing it is that you're looking for. This does not mean we are not listening, nor does it mean that we didn't understand your request. We just aren't saying anything because we hate you for interrupting our Angry Birds time. Furthermore, if your counter person happens to be female, please don't make the old-fashioned assumption that girls don't know anything about cars. I know some parts girls that can run circles around the boys, and God help you if you condescend and call them "sweetie" or "honey".
5). Don't try to speak our language.
If you are a backyard, do-it-yourself mechanic, please do not try to impress your parts guy/gal by trying to use our lingo. When you start talking about core charges, pro-rated warranties, foreign vs domestic suppliers, and jobber pricing without knowing what they mean, you just sound like an asshole. We will laugh at you after you leave.
4). Don't tell stories.
We're glad that you chose our store to make your automotive related purchases. Take your items and exchange the appropriate payment. We don't need to hear why you are working on your car, how long you've had it, what work you've put into it, what color it is, where and when you bought it, how much your spouse and kids like it, how fast it goes, how many road trips you've been on, what kind of gas mileage you got on your last trip to Atlantic City, or any other such nonsense.
3). Don't try to haggle.
Listen, we work hard for our paychecks, too. Putting up with your bullshit is practically a full time job in itself. We understand the value of a dollar. For some reason, everyone treats parts stores like some backwoods farmer's market. I really don't get this, but it happens all the time. You quote someone a price, and the first thing out of their fat ugly mouth is, "Can you do any better than that?" Guess what, NO. The price is what it is. Sure, we can adjust prices to match our competitors, but such practice is usually just reserved for customers who spend big bucks to begin with, and only on occasions where it's absolutely necessary. As a general rule, if you insist on a price break, we will remember you and make it back twofold next time we encounter your stupid face.
2). Know what you need.
This seems pretty simple, but for the life of me, I can't figure out why people make it so difficult. If you go to a parts store, it is usually because something on your car is broken, and you are going to replace it. People seem to think that we are all-seeing, all-knowing car whisperers, and as such, should magically know the perfect thing to sell you to fix your problem. Asking things like "My car keeps stalling, what should I buy?" does not help us or you in any way. As previously stated, we are not mechanics, nor are we automotive troubleshooting geniuses, despite what TV commercials would have you believe. If your car doesn't work as it should, please take it to a respectable garage before you kill someone. Auto parts stores are not a quick fix.
1). Know what kind of car you have.
This may come as a surprise, but many people have no fucking idea what kind of car they drive. I'm not kidding. People will come in and ask for an air filter for their car. You ask them what kind of car it is (important information, mind you) and they tell you it's a blue one. Or they smartly correct you and tell you that it's not a car, its a truck. OK, what kind of truck? "Um...a blue one. I think it's a Chevy, but it might be a Ford. Does it matter?" No, it doesn't matter. I maintain a 6000 square foot warehouse full of parts for fun. Let me just grab a magic part from the blue truck aisle and discount the price because for you because your blue truck is more important than everyone else's chosen mode of transport. As a general rule of thumb, if you don't know what kind of vehicle you're driving, you probably shouldn't be trying to repair it. I understand that not everyone is a gearhead, but holy shit, if you can't even identify what is parked in your driveway, then please leave the repair and maintenance of it to the professionals.
So there you have it. Scott's top ten list of the stupidest things you can do as an auto parts customer. I can only hope that all you would-be driveway mechanics out there have learned something from all my indignant ranting, but I've been doing this for nigh on ten years now, and very little surprises me these days. If this list does not enhance your auto parts buying experience, please be sure to ask for a manager, because I am the manager, and I would be glad to scold my employee for your stupidity. Thanks for shopping here, and have a nice day.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
respect my authoritah
Today was one of the best days at work I've had in a long time. It's probably mostly due to me sleeping in today and not going to work until noon, but that's beside the point. At least, I'm declaring it such. When you're the boss, you can do that sort of thing.
I attended the inventory for one of our other stores last night. Not by choice, mind you, it's mandatory that all managers attend all inventories. Anyway, it was for one of the retail stores that has had constant inventory management trouble for the last several years, and is everyone's least favorite store to count. It was a little better this year, but still turned into a 12+ hour workday for most of us.
A little perk of being a manager is that I can decide on a whim that I'm going to go to work late on any given morning. Not leaving a store until 11pm then driving sleepy and cross-eyed for 30 minutes just to get home is a good reason to do so. Having the authority to adjust my store's schedule to fit my personal needs also comes in very handy on those hangover mornings.
Speaking of hangovers, I've had a nasty cold/flu/black plague of death this past week. It was the kind of cold where you sneeze and cough so much that the muscles in your chest and shoulders get sore. You know you're sick when you have to sit down and rest for a few minutes after something as routine as a sneeze. The upside to all of this was that I got to do my job completely whacked out on various cold medicines. I made sure not to get any of that non-drowsy shit, either. All I can really say is that when you're having a bad day, take a big ol' swig of Robitussin, and see if things don't get better in a hurry.
If you're still wondering how I'm going to segue my illness into a hangover, thanks for your patience. Here it is. One of my good customers has relatives in South Carolina, and he drives there to visit them every few months or so. Some distant member of said family distills moonshine, assumably up thar in th' hills. I have mentioned to him in the past my penchant for all members of the whiskey family, and since I give him price breaks for his personal vehicles, he occasionally repays the favor with booze. After hearing of my condition this week, he stopped by my store with a pint of genuine So' Car farm fresh, hi-octane, corn liquor on the basis that "it's good for what ails ya." Let me tell you, there is nothing like 100 proof moonshine to clear one's sinuses.
I've subsequently learned that when you combine cold medication with self medication, it can be notoriously hard to wake up the next morning. Yet my manager super-powers allow me to buy myself 3 or 4 extra hours of sleep simply by sending a text message that usually says something like "feel like shit. see you at lunchtime. deal with it".
Today was one of those late days for me, but fortunately my assistant manager had everything under control all morning. I came in around noon to find that all the morning paperwork was done, the stock order was checked in and put away, he had made the daily bank deposit, and all employees and customers were happy. As a reward for maintaining order in my absence, I sent him home early and proceeded to goof off in peace and quiet. Business was pleasantly slow today, so I got to catch up on paperwork and other important manager stuff like attaching bottle rockets to paper airplanes, taking naps, and crossword puzzles.
I love days like today not because I'm a world champion class slacker, but because it is a huge boost for morale. When we are busy, I run my employees pretty hard. Some of them aren't as young as they used to be, and those busy days really take a toll. Even then, we take pride in our ability to work as a team to provide some of the best auto parts customer service in town. When we are not busy, we take pride in the fact that we get paid to stand around and goof off. I often feel like someone left the monkey in charge of the zoo, and that I have no business being in charge of real people and real money. When I see how well my team operates in my unexpected absence, I take pride in the fact that despite my occasional bouts of unadulterated laziness, I have cultivated the proverbial well-oiled machine.
Now the weekend is here, playoff hockey is upon us, and my pet rhino virus is retreating. I just remembered that I still have a considerable amount of moonshine in my possession, so I'd better wrap this up. And you'd all better go take a nice long break and goof off for a while. I'm the boss and I said so.
I attended the inventory for one of our other stores last night. Not by choice, mind you, it's mandatory that all managers attend all inventories. Anyway, it was for one of the retail stores that has had constant inventory management trouble for the last several years, and is everyone's least favorite store to count. It was a little better this year, but still turned into a 12+ hour workday for most of us.
A little perk of being a manager is that I can decide on a whim that I'm going to go to work late on any given morning. Not leaving a store until 11pm then driving sleepy and cross-eyed for 30 minutes just to get home is a good reason to do so. Having the authority to adjust my store's schedule to fit my personal needs also comes in very handy on those hangover mornings.
Speaking of hangovers, I've had a nasty cold/flu/black plague of death this past week. It was the kind of cold where you sneeze and cough so much that the muscles in your chest and shoulders get sore. You know you're sick when you have to sit down and rest for a few minutes after something as routine as a sneeze. The upside to all of this was that I got to do my job completely whacked out on various cold medicines. I made sure not to get any of that non-drowsy shit, either. All I can really say is that when you're having a bad day, take a big ol' swig of Robitussin, and see if things don't get better in a hurry.
If you're still wondering how I'm going to segue my illness into a hangover, thanks for your patience. Here it is. One of my good customers has relatives in South Carolina, and he drives there to visit them every few months or so. Some distant member of said family distills moonshine, assumably up thar in th' hills. I have mentioned to him in the past my penchant for all members of the whiskey family, and since I give him price breaks for his personal vehicles, he occasionally repays the favor with booze. After hearing of my condition this week, he stopped by my store with a pint of genuine So' Car farm fresh, hi-octane, corn liquor on the basis that "it's good for what ails ya." Let me tell you, there is nothing like 100 proof moonshine to clear one's sinuses.
I've subsequently learned that when you combine cold medication with self medication, it can be notoriously hard to wake up the next morning. Yet my manager super-powers allow me to buy myself 3 or 4 extra hours of sleep simply by sending a text message that usually says something like "feel like shit. see you at lunchtime. deal with it".
Today was one of those late days for me, but fortunately my assistant manager had everything under control all morning. I came in around noon to find that all the morning paperwork was done, the stock order was checked in and put away, he had made the daily bank deposit, and all employees and customers were happy. As a reward for maintaining order in my absence, I sent him home early and proceeded to goof off in peace and quiet. Business was pleasantly slow today, so I got to catch up on paperwork and other important manager stuff like attaching bottle rockets to paper airplanes, taking naps, and crossword puzzles.
I love days like today not because I'm a world champion class slacker, but because it is a huge boost for morale. When we are busy, I run my employees pretty hard. Some of them aren't as young as they used to be, and those busy days really take a toll. Even then, we take pride in our ability to work as a team to provide some of the best auto parts customer service in town. When we are not busy, we take pride in the fact that we get paid to stand around and goof off. I often feel like someone left the monkey in charge of the zoo, and that I have no business being in charge of real people and real money. When I see how well my team operates in my unexpected absence, I take pride in the fact that despite my occasional bouts of unadulterated laziness, I have cultivated the proverbial well-oiled machine.
Now the weekend is here, playoff hockey is upon us, and my pet rhino virus is retreating. I just remembered that I still have a considerable amount of moonshine in my possession, so I'd better wrap this up. And you'd all better go take a nice long break and goof off for a while. I'm the boss and I said so.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
losing
I suppose I should write a new blog entry to keep you people happy. That's right, I said "you people".
It's pretty cool to have loyal readers. I just wish I had enough creative energy in my misfiring little blob of gray matter to keep you all reading more consistently. Sometimes real life gets in the way of my half-assed attempt at a writing career, so I appreciate your patience.
I believe the last time we met, I was stressing out over my annual store inventory, so I should probably fill you all in on how that went. I can pretty much sum it up in one word. Poop. Yeah, it went that well. Inventory is always tough. Everyone (other store managers and salespeople) all come to help since it is a big job, so it feels like you are being judged by your peers. We managers all support each other so it's not so bad, but it's still stressful to have 20 or so people in every nook and cranny of your store. It almost feels like an invasion of privacy, like someone is going through your underwear drawer and inspecting your clothes laundering abilities. Fortunately, we managers are united against the bigger enemy (i.e. our corporate overlords), and judgement is at a minimum. We all know that we will each have our turn on the chopping block and have banded together to help each other instead of passing judgement. It's really nice to have the support of your peers, even if your store's inventory is kinda messed up and everyone had to be there until 9pm to get it all straight. Oops.
I probably shouldn't mention specific numbers and whatnot in a public forum, but my shit was waaaaay off, to the point where I was continually lectured throughout the day/evening. Probably even to the point where I will be made an example of in some twisted corporate logic kind of way. My boss likes me well enough, but I also drive him crazy (only sometimes on purpose). He alternated between patting me on the back for trying hard and giving me stern lectures with those little veins on his forehead sticking out. I consider it a small victory when I can make his face turn bright red and make those little veins pulse. It's my way of fighting back against oppression and I must admit there's a part of me that takes a perverse pleasure in it.
It went about as well as I expected considering my lack of preparation, and when it was all said and done, I lived to fight another day. I'm sure I haven't heard the end of it, but that is exactly why I like to go first. If my numbers come out askew, which they usually do despite my (sometimes) sincere efforts, there are 6 other stores in line to be counted after mine. Usually a certain one of them will be screwed up worse than mine, thus transferring my boss's disapproving focus onto someone else for a while. So to sum it up, it could have been better, but it can always be worse. If I may wax poetic, I might suggest that such is the story of my life.
It's pretty cool to have loyal readers. I just wish I had enough creative energy in my misfiring little blob of gray matter to keep you all reading more consistently. Sometimes real life gets in the way of my half-assed attempt at a writing career, so I appreciate your patience.
I believe the last time we met, I was stressing out over my annual store inventory, so I should probably fill you all in on how that went. I can pretty much sum it up in one word. Poop. Yeah, it went that well. Inventory is always tough. Everyone (other store managers and salespeople) all come to help since it is a big job, so it feels like you are being judged by your peers. We managers all support each other so it's not so bad, but it's still stressful to have 20 or so people in every nook and cranny of your store. It almost feels like an invasion of privacy, like someone is going through your underwear drawer and inspecting your clothes laundering abilities. Fortunately, we managers are united against the bigger enemy (i.e. our corporate overlords), and judgement is at a minimum. We all know that we will each have our turn on the chopping block and have banded together to help each other instead of passing judgement. It's really nice to have the support of your peers, even if your store's inventory is kinda messed up and everyone had to be there until 9pm to get it all straight. Oops.
I probably shouldn't mention specific numbers and whatnot in a public forum, but my shit was waaaaay off, to the point where I was continually lectured throughout the day/evening. Probably even to the point where I will be made an example of in some twisted corporate logic kind of way. My boss likes me well enough, but I also drive him crazy (only sometimes on purpose). He alternated between patting me on the back for trying hard and giving me stern lectures with those little veins on his forehead sticking out. I consider it a small victory when I can make his face turn bright red and make those little veins pulse. It's my way of fighting back against oppression and I must admit there's a part of me that takes a perverse pleasure in it.
It went about as well as I expected considering my lack of preparation, and when it was all said and done, I lived to fight another day. I'm sure I haven't heard the end of it, but that is exactly why I like to go first. If my numbers come out askew, which they usually do despite my (sometimes) sincere efforts, there are 6 other stores in line to be counted after mine. Usually a certain one of them will be screwed up worse than mine, thus transferring my boss's disapproving focus onto someone else for a while. So to sum it up, it could have been better, but it can always be worse. If I may wax poetic, I might suggest that such is the story of my life.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
winning
There must be something wrong with me lately, as I have actually been working hard. I really got a lot accomplished today. I'm thinking that it may have something to do with the fact that I recently saw my doctor and got a refill on my happy pills. Holy shit, life would be so much easier if everyone were medicated all the time.
The real reason though, is that my annual full-store inventory is tomorrow. I am most decidedly not looking forward to it. I like doing inventory on my own. The narrowing of one's focus into counting and following numerical order is strangely calming, and sometimes can be almost zen-like. Sometimes I take the phone off the hook and inventory a product line when I'm stressed out. It seems like busywork, but I really do enjoy it sometimes. When the numbers and letters all line up, there's a certain sense of beauty to it all.
This is very different, though. This one counts (no pun intended), so it almost feels like I'm preparing for a final exam. I'm just not sure what it counts for, since my final numbers were a bit off last year, and I have yet to feel the wrath of any of the implied repercussions. My boss takes these annual inventories very seriously. He makes is seem as if the process is a life or death matter. I can only imagine that there's some sort of bragging rights that occur farther up the corporate ladder that I am not privy to.
All the managers are required to attend and help out at inventories for all the other stores in our group. Since we are salary, it's really more like forced volunteering than "helping out". I think that the general idea is to shame us into working towards a good result so that we aren't embarrassed in front of our fellow store managers. I think that's supposed to be my motivation. I think I'm supposed to be embarrassed if I don't do well. However, we as managers have developed this unspoken brotherhood where we don't allow our bosses to browbeat us with their corporate bullshit. We know what matters, and we stick together. We all do our jobs exceptionally well, so to hell with what the bean counters think. There is a whole forest out there, even if some people can only see the trees.
Tomorrow I'm going to be a good little manager and play the game like I'm expected to do. I'll play the corporate game and act like it's the end of the world when my final numbers don't quite add up. I'll take my lectures and scoldings, because when it's all said and done, I'll probably still have a job on Monday.
I'm going to be wrong no matter how it turns out, that's just the way it works for us corporate slaves. We make their world spin, but we also take the blame for everything that goes wrong, no matter how trivial. The trick is to just accept that sometimes you have to take your lumps, for better or for worse. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, but I've been through it before. As one of my drivers likes to say, "you win some, you lose some, and some get rained out, but you dress for every occasion". I'm on the spot tomorrow, so wish me luck. Failing that, I have my happy pills.
The real reason though, is that my annual full-store inventory is tomorrow. I am most decidedly not looking forward to it. I like doing inventory on my own. The narrowing of one's focus into counting and following numerical order is strangely calming, and sometimes can be almost zen-like. Sometimes I take the phone off the hook and inventory a product line when I'm stressed out. It seems like busywork, but I really do enjoy it sometimes. When the numbers and letters all line up, there's a certain sense of beauty to it all.
This is very different, though. This one counts (no pun intended), so it almost feels like I'm preparing for a final exam. I'm just not sure what it counts for, since my final numbers were a bit off last year, and I have yet to feel the wrath of any of the implied repercussions. My boss takes these annual inventories very seriously. He makes is seem as if the process is a life or death matter. I can only imagine that there's some sort of bragging rights that occur farther up the corporate ladder that I am not privy to.
All the managers are required to attend and help out at inventories for all the other stores in our group. Since we are salary, it's really more like forced volunteering than "helping out". I think that the general idea is to shame us into working towards a good result so that we aren't embarrassed in front of our fellow store managers. I think that's supposed to be my motivation. I think I'm supposed to be embarrassed if I don't do well. However, we as managers have developed this unspoken brotherhood where we don't allow our bosses to browbeat us with their corporate bullshit. We know what matters, and we stick together. We all do our jobs exceptionally well, so to hell with what the bean counters think. There is a whole forest out there, even if some people can only see the trees.
Tomorrow I'm going to be a good little manager and play the game like I'm expected to do. I'll play the corporate game and act like it's the end of the world when my final numbers don't quite add up. I'll take my lectures and scoldings, because when it's all said and done, I'll probably still have a job on Monday.
I'm going to be wrong no matter how it turns out, that's just the way it works for us corporate slaves. We make their world spin, but we also take the blame for everything that goes wrong, no matter how trivial. The trick is to just accept that sometimes you have to take your lumps, for better or for worse. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, but I've been through it before. As one of my drivers likes to say, "you win some, you lose some, and some get rained out, but you dress for every occasion". I'm on the spot tomorrow, so wish me luck. Failing that, I have my happy pills.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
juggling
I have entirely too much shit to do lately.
The thing that I like the least about the auto parts supply business is that it never ends. As long as people are driving cars, those cars will wear down and eventually need to have some pieces of them replaced. This should seem like a good thing, since it means job security for me, but some days (of which today happened to be one) it seems like a bottomless pit. That combined with the fact that cars are constantly being re-designed means that we are perpetually updating inventory.
I don't mind all the inventory duties. In fact, I actually kind of like it. I think it really appeals to my puzzle solving nature. The problem with it is that I simply can't focus on it to the point where I can really accomplish anything. I start checking in parts and the phone rings, or a big online order comes in, or a retail customer with an agenda and a shopping list needs help finding obscure parts for an '83 Ford one-ton dump truck that has suffered through three decades of half-assed mechanics, mismatched parts, and an owner who doesn't know an oil filter from a hole in the ground.
Some days I feel like one of those plate spinners you see at the circus, or bad late night TV shows. Just when I get everything spinning smoothly, something starts to wobble. While I'm fixing the wobble, the plate at the other end slows down. I spend all day running back and forth and sometimes I just barely manage to keep it all spinning.
This is my job, minus the applause of course.
Actually, it's more like plate spinning combined with juggling combined with babysitting, but I couldn't find a video on YouTube for that. I'm not even kidding about the babysitting. That's a big part of what I do. Somehow I am the mature, responsible one out of all the people that work at my store, even though I am the youngest.
Some of my guys are literally twice my age and I am somehow in charge of them. It's a very strange feeling to be giving instructions to someone who is old enough to be your parent. I almost feel like I'm being disrespectful. When we got our first snowstorm a few months back, one of my drivers who shall remain nameless wasn't taking the road conditions into account and wrecked his van. I subsequently gathered everyone together and had a team meeting (corporate speak for "I yelled at everyone"). Almost all of my drivers have been driving since before I was born, yet they sat there and listened to me speechify on vehicular safety in winter. At one point, I almost broke into laughter as I remembered myself as a sixteen year old, taking my dad's old Cadillac into an empty, snow filled parking lot and spinning donuts until the gas tank was almost empty.
I had a conference call today during which I had to account for a slight drop in sales for this month compared to last. I was somewhat caught off my guard when it was my turn to talk, but I managed (on the spur of the moment) to sufficiently talk my boss and my boss's boss right out of their shoes. I don't even remember what I said. I just started rambling about sales, returns, customers, percentages, and random numbers until they were impressed enough to tell me to keep up the good work.
Sometimes I think about that shy, quiet kid I used to be back in high school. The one who always sat in the back of every class with his head down, waiting for each class...day...semester to be over. Sometimes I wonder how in the hell that kid ever got to the point where he's overseeing six people and thousands of dollars worth of transactions every day. Somewhere between then and now, and despite my best efforts to the contrary, I think I may have grown up.
Then I remember that I've been at it for nearly ten years, and I can't help but think of those plate spinners and how many hours...days...years of practice they have put into a three minute routine. I get the feeling that they don't really know how they got there, either. Shit, who wants to grow up and spin plates for a living?
I think the best part about growing up is that nobody knows what's around the next corner. We just find something that we're sort of good at, and give it hell until someone pays us for it. I never knew what I wanted to be when I "grew up", but I knew it would involve cars in some form. Now here I am supplying replacement parts for a large percentage of auto repair shops in the area. With the importance of the automobile in today's world, that feels like a pretty big responsibility. It's terrifying to the kid I used to be, and a delicious challenge to the adult I have reluctantly become.
It might not be the most glamorous job ever, but I take pride in what I do. It's long hours, lots of resistance and many a complication, but I haven't lost a plate yet.
The thing that I like the least about the auto parts supply business is that it never ends. As long as people are driving cars, those cars will wear down and eventually need to have some pieces of them replaced. This should seem like a good thing, since it means job security for me, but some days (of which today happened to be one) it seems like a bottomless pit. That combined with the fact that cars are constantly being re-designed means that we are perpetually updating inventory.
I don't mind all the inventory duties. In fact, I actually kind of like it. I think it really appeals to my puzzle solving nature. The problem with it is that I simply can't focus on it to the point where I can really accomplish anything. I start checking in parts and the phone rings, or a big online order comes in, or a retail customer with an agenda and a shopping list needs help finding obscure parts for an '83 Ford one-ton dump truck that has suffered through three decades of half-assed mechanics, mismatched parts, and an owner who doesn't know an oil filter from a hole in the ground.
Some days I feel like one of those plate spinners you see at the circus, or bad late night TV shows. Just when I get everything spinning smoothly, something starts to wobble. While I'm fixing the wobble, the plate at the other end slows down. I spend all day running back and forth and sometimes I just barely manage to keep it all spinning.
This is my job, minus the applause of course.
Actually, it's more like plate spinning combined with juggling combined with babysitting, but I couldn't find a video on YouTube for that. I'm not even kidding about the babysitting. That's a big part of what I do. Somehow I am the mature, responsible one out of all the people that work at my store, even though I am the youngest.
Some of my guys are literally twice my age and I am somehow in charge of them. It's a very strange feeling to be giving instructions to someone who is old enough to be your parent. I almost feel like I'm being disrespectful. When we got our first snowstorm a few months back, one of my drivers who shall remain nameless wasn't taking the road conditions into account and wrecked his van. I subsequently gathered everyone together and had a team meeting (corporate speak for "I yelled at everyone"). Almost all of my drivers have been driving since before I was born, yet they sat there and listened to me speechify on vehicular safety in winter. At one point, I almost broke into laughter as I remembered myself as a sixteen year old, taking my dad's old Cadillac into an empty, snow filled parking lot and spinning donuts until the gas tank was almost empty.
I had a conference call today during which I had to account for a slight drop in sales for this month compared to last. I was somewhat caught off my guard when it was my turn to talk, but I managed (on the spur of the moment) to sufficiently talk my boss and my boss's boss right out of their shoes. I don't even remember what I said. I just started rambling about sales, returns, customers, percentages, and random numbers until they were impressed enough to tell me to keep up the good work.
Sometimes I think about that shy, quiet kid I used to be back in high school. The one who always sat in the back of every class with his head down, waiting for each class...day...semester to be over. Sometimes I wonder how in the hell that kid ever got to the point where he's overseeing six people and thousands of dollars worth of transactions every day. Somewhere between then and now, and despite my best efforts to the contrary, I think I may have grown up.
Then I remember that I've been at it for nearly ten years, and I can't help but think of those plate spinners and how many hours...days...years of practice they have put into a three minute routine. I get the feeling that they don't really know how they got there, either. Shit, who wants to grow up and spin plates for a living?
I think the best part about growing up is that nobody knows what's around the next corner. We just find something that we're sort of good at, and give it hell until someone pays us for it. I never knew what I wanted to be when I "grew up", but I knew it would involve cars in some form. Now here I am supplying replacement parts for a large percentage of auto repair shops in the area. With the importance of the automobile in today's world, that feels like a pretty big responsibility. It's terrifying to the kid I used to be, and a delicious challenge to the adult I have reluctantly become.
It might not be the most glamorous job ever, but I take pride in what I do. It's long hours, lots of resistance and many a complication, but I haven't lost a plate yet.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
mountains
Hello again, autopartophiles. Yeah, I just invented a word. Don't judge me, it's no worse than "ginormous".
Today was pretty tough. I can't go into detail since it involves internal operations and whatnot, and I'd like to not be fired because I blogged about super-secret corporate policies. Also, I've been fighting a migraine and some rather unfulfilling sleep lately, so I haven't been in the mood for my cursed phone which just will not stop ringing.
I seem to have become the "go-to guy" for some counter-people in our store group. Certain people call me every time they need help with something. I have absolutely no aversion to helping people, but I have so much shit to worry about in my own store that I really don't need to worry about anyone else's. Can't you ask your own manager for help? Maybe that's the problem. When someone doesn't have faith in their leader, it belies the whole corporate structure, and I envision the world coming undone, like at the end of "The Never Ending Story". I probably shouldn't help, since the chain of command abhors it, but I cannot resist helping people when I am capable of doing so. It's how I was raised. So I offer answers to questions on a regular basis, despite the fact that if certain people were better at their jobs, said questions would have no need to be placed. It's the proverbial vicious cycle, but I suppose it's not the worst thing ever, since Things Get Accomplished and I end up justifying my ingrained moral need to help those who need it. Sometimes it just makes me very, very tired.
On the complete opposite side of all that, I was trained pretty well. It's very rare that I have to ask a superior for help. One of the things I love about my job is problem solving. I often tell people that I don't sell auto parts for a living, I solve problems. Auto parts sell themselves. If your car is broken, you go to a garage. They diagnose the problem and order a replacement part (hopefully) from me. I don't have to sell a damned thing. All I have to do is figure out how to get merchandise to those who need it. My job is like a big puzzle. I take what I'm given and try to find solutions. I think that more often than not I am very good at my job, since my brain loves a challenge and finds puzzles irresistible (I do crosswords and sudoku in my spare time). When I'm in the mood for it and my resources are at 100%, it's my favorite place to be.
Lately I just haven't been in the mood. When I feel this way, it's utter misery. I cringe every time the phone rings, and I have an unfounded resentment for any customer that walks in and interrupts my epic slacking. Maybe it's just my imagination, but I seem to have way too much shit to accomplish lately. Almost every day, I'm tasked with inventory counting, overstock sweeping, infinitely boring spreadsheets that require zero cognition, or some other such annoyance.
Recently I was selected as one of two stores to be loaded with a relatively new product line. I received five pallets of fresh inventory, which I had to check in and put in stock in addition to my regular routines. Needless to say, it was nothing short of overwhelming. Me vs. five pallets of mixed parts totaling about $15k. Not only did I not have time to sort through and account for it all, but I didn't have any-damn-where to put it.
Enter my outside salesman. He used to run one of our retail parts stores, has years of experience, and a resolute attention to detail. He sympathized with my situation and generously cleared three days of his busy schedule solely to help me sort through that huge shipment of new product. I was pretty humbled. This job is an uphill battle for all of us, every day. For someone who already has a full plate to drop everything just to help little ol' me gave me a different viewpoint and therefore a different attitude. It suddenly changed from an overwhelming task to a solvable problem. In just under three days, we managed to sort, inventory, and stock every single piece in that order.
I often complain about the people I work with. They drive me crazy sometimes, and I have days when I wonder what in the blue fuck I'm doing there. More often than not, I just end up with an overabundance of repressed anger. Sometimes though, when things get too deep for me to keep swimming, someone will offer to help me stay afloat. It's then that I realize I'm in the right place. I realize that when I solve problems, it's not mine that I'm solving, but someone else's. Every day I get to do for other people what my salesman did for me. I take customers' complications and dissect them until they're manageable. Their problems are mountains to them, and just a beginner's crossword to me. Perspective is everything.
Someone recently told me that my blog is too grouchy, and I should write a happy one. I don't do happy, so this is as close as it's going to get. What often seems like a burden is really just a blessing. I love what I do, and helping people find solutions is what I'm good at. I have little patience for ignorance, but sometimes ignorance is nothing more than a problem in need of a wider field of vision.
I thought maybe I was getting too philosophical about what I do. Essentially I just move auto parts from my building into someone else's. Today a customer called me out of the blue to thank me for a quick delivery. A young lady brought her car into their garage for a desperate repair, as she needed to make a road trip to visit her sick mother. They ordered parts, we delivered parts. They repaired her car and she was quickly on her way. It was routine for us, and a miracle for her.
I thought that maybe I was reading too much into it all, and that we didn't make much of a difference in the long run. I thought it was rare that I go out of my way to help someone, but today I realized that it's what I get paid to do.
I think sometimes I think too much.
Today was pretty tough. I can't go into detail since it involves internal operations and whatnot, and I'd like to not be fired because I blogged about super-secret corporate policies. Also, I've been fighting a migraine and some rather unfulfilling sleep lately, so I haven't been in the mood for my cursed phone which just will not stop ringing.
I seem to have become the "go-to guy" for some counter-people in our store group. Certain people call me every time they need help with something. I have absolutely no aversion to helping people, but I have so much shit to worry about in my own store that I really don't need to worry about anyone else's. Can't you ask your own manager for help? Maybe that's the problem. When someone doesn't have faith in their leader, it belies the whole corporate structure, and I envision the world coming undone, like at the end of "The Never Ending Story". I probably shouldn't help, since the chain of command abhors it, but I cannot resist helping people when I am capable of doing so. It's how I was raised. So I offer answers to questions on a regular basis, despite the fact that if certain people were better at their jobs, said questions would have no need to be placed. It's the proverbial vicious cycle, but I suppose it's not the worst thing ever, since Things Get Accomplished and I end up justifying my ingrained moral need to help those who need it. Sometimes it just makes me very, very tired.
On the complete opposite side of all that, I was trained pretty well. It's very rare that I have to ask a superior for help. One of the things I love about my job is problem solving. I often tell people that I don't sell auto parts for a living, I solve problems. Auto parts sell themselves. If your car is broken, you go to a garage. They diagnose the problem and order a replacement part (hopefully) from me. I don't have to sell a damned thing. All I have to do is figure out how to get merchandise to those who need it. My job is like a big puzzle. I take what I'm given and try to find solutions. I think that more often than not I am very good at my job, since my brain loves a challenge and finds puzzles irresistible (I do crosswords and sudoku in my spare time). When I'm in the mood for it and my resources are at 100%, it's my favorite place to be.
Lately I just haven't been in the mood. When I feel this way, it's utter misery. I cringe every time the phone rings, and I have an unfounded resentment for any customer that walks in and interrupts my epic slacking. Maybe it's just my imagination, but I seem to have way too much shit to accomplish lately. Almost every day, I'm tasked with inventory counting, overstock sweeping, infinitely boring spreadsheets that require zero cognition, or some other such annoyance.
Recently I was selected as one of two stores to be loaded with a relatively new product line. I received five pallets of fresh inventory, which I had to check in and put in stock in addition to my regular routines. Needless to say, it was nothing short of overwhelming. Me vs. five pallets of mixed parts totaling about $15k. Not only did I not have time to sort through and account for it all, but I didn't have any-damn-where to put it.
Enter my outside salesman. He used to run one of our retail parts stores, has years of experience, and a resolute attention to detail. He sympathized with my situation and generously cleared three days of his busy schedule solely to help me sort through that huge shipment of new product. I was pretty humbled. This job is an uphill battle for all of us, every day. For someone who already has a full plate to drop everything just to help little ol' me gave me a different viewpoint and therefore a different attitude. It suddenly changed from an overwhelming task to a solvable problem. In just under three days, we managed to sort, inventory, and stock every single piece in that order.
I often complain about the people I work with. They drive me crazy sometimes, and I have days when I wonder what in the blue fuck I'm doing there. More often than not, I just end up with an overabundance of repressed anger. Sometimes though, when things get too deep for me to keep swimming, someone will offer to help me stay afloat. It's then that I realize I'm in the right place. I realize that when I solve problems, it's not mine that I'm solving, but someone else's. Every day I get to do for other people what my salesman did for me. I take customers' complications and dissect them until they're manageable. Their problems are mountains to them, and just a beginner's crossword to me. Perspective is everything.
Someone recently told me that my blog is too grouchy, and I should write a happy one. I don't do happy, so this is as close as it's going to get. What often seems like a burden is really just a blessing. I love what I do, and helping people find solutions is what I'm good at. I have little patience for ignorance, but sometimes ignorance is nothing more than a problem in need of a wider field of vision.
I thought maybe I was getting too philosophical about what I do. Essentially I just move auto parts from my building into someone else's. Today a customer called me out of the blue to thank me for a quick delivery. A young lady brought her car into their garage for a desperate repair, as she needed to make a road trip to visit her sick mother. They ordered parts, we delivered parts. They repaired her car and she was quickly on her way. It was routine for us, and a miracle for her.
I thought that maybe I was reading too much into it all, and that we didn't make much of a difference in the long run. I thought it was rare that I go out of my way to help someone, but today I realized that it's what I get paid to do.
I think sometimes I think too much.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
"Think of how stupid the average person is, then realize that half of them are stupider than that."
Happy 2012, auto parts enthusiasts. A new year brings hope, promise, and loads and loads of the same ol' horseshit.
Despite my resolution to be more of a dick to retail customers, I am still sought out by crazy people throughout the land. I dare say I have become a veritable crazy magnet. It usually starts with someone pulling into my parking lot and sitting in their car for a minute or two. Since we are not a traditional retail store, people get confused when they pull up to a warehouse, and inexplicably just sit in their car and stare at my building. The next thing that happens is always the same. They will poke their head in the door and say
"Am I in the right place?"
My response is always the same.
"That depends on what you're looking for".
"I need some parts for my car. My friend's neighbor's plumber's dog's cousin said you could help me. Are you Scott?"
"Unfortunately. What can I do for you?"
I shouldn't say this, but whether or not I help someone really depends on my mood. I size a person up (which I think have gotten quite good at) and just decide on a whim if their boring problem is worth my time. I usually help, since I myself am a blue-collar working stiff, and taking customers' money is ultimately what my superiors are paying me for.
What I think is weird is that so many people come looking specifically for me. There are two people at my location who can take orders, and three people at a call center who can do the same. Prices are the same no matter who you talk to (although sometimes they are subject to change depending on a customer's attitude), so I suppose I should take it as a compliment that people spread my name around enough that I am developing a reputation for being a trustworthy retailer. Flattering to be sure, but I'd be much happier with a little peace and quiet.
The temptation to abuse that trust, however, is almost impossible to resist sometimes. My evil side just can't help screwing with people. For example, most retail parts stores will install wiper blades at no charge. Our company has no such policy that I know of, so when walk-in customers ask me if I can do that very thing for them, it really depends on how annoying they are. I went outside in the COLD and installed some blades on a van while it was COLD and snowy the other day, simply because the lady who bought them was very polite and asked if I could help, since she had no idea how. I also got a two dollar tip, which I thought was pretty cool because, hey, it's two dollars more than I had a minute ago.
On another occasion, I had a guy come in and complain about how expensive our wiper blades are and that he should get free installation for his trouble. I told him that due to insurance regulations, we are not legally permitted to perform any service on a customer's vehicle, and that if he needs help installing them, I could recommend a garage for him. I completely pulled that out of thin air, and he bought it without a second thought. He assured me in his (probably) most macho tone of voice that he can put his own wiper blades on, then proceeded to go out and fumble around with them for a while before driving off and never coming back. I think I was supposed to be insulted by that.
Another customer who is irresistible to screw with is the Guy Who Knows Nothing About Cars. If I'm busy, he is the worst, and usually blown off without making a sale. I just don't have the time to explain how a car works, or how to install a parts that you can't even pronounce. If I'm slow and therefore bored, he is a welcome distraction. It's pretty funny what mechanics will tell people sometimes. I've had people come in and ask for things that don't exist. Brake grease, control arm linkage, tie rod bushings, tailpipe caps, thermostat connectors, and ya know, those special headlights that they saw on TV.
My favorite though, is the guy who wanted four quarts of brake fluid. I asked if he would rather buy a gallon, since buying the bulk size would save him about two dollars. He angrily restated that he didn't need a whole gallon, he just needed four quarts. I sold him what he wanted, and took him for a couple extra bucks without even trying. I even had someone tell me once that they need to let the summer air out of their tires and put in winter air, and ask if I knew anyone who could do this for them. Sometimes I don't have the heart to tell them they've been had. I usually just tell them that whatever imaginary thing they're after is out of stock right now, and send them to a competitor's store.
On a semi-related topic, asking "How ya doin'?" is NOT an invitation to tell me about all of your weird and/or creepy ailments. This crazy dude came in today and rambled for a good seven or eight minutes about the time he cut his foot and had to go to the hospital. I got every gory detail of this epic adventure, whether I wanted it or not. Sometimes I really hate being pinned down in the name of customer service. As much as I would love to go all George Carlin on people and suddenly shout "Blow it out your ass!", I have to sit there and take it.* I've heard it all; I have a blister on my foot, an abscessed tooth, hemorrhoids, a slipped disc, a pulled muscle, a weak colon, iron deficiency, a generally fucked up pancreas, a thing growing on my neck, and my personal favorite, a story about a stomach ulcer told while eating a Big Mac.
I'm no doctor, but I think peoples' biggest ailment is that they don't have that filter between their brains and their big fat mouths. I'd just be happy with a little tact, or failing that, an ounce of consideration for people that don't need to hear about your stupid bullshit.
Speaking of, that's enough complaining out of me for today. I'm going to go drink some cheap bourbon, watch Dog the Bounty Hunter, and laugh at his ridiculous mullet. 2012 is off to an awesome start. I trust you've all broken you new-year's resolutions by now? If not, you'd better get started. The end of the world will be here before you know it.
*As I've previously stated, my job is not to sell auto parts, but to facilitate the separation of customers from their hard-earned cash. Random angry outbursts are counter-productive.
Despite my resolution to be more of a dick to retail customers, I am still sought out by crazy people throughout the land. I dare say I have become a veritable crazy magnet. It usually starts with someone pulling into my parking lot and sitting in their car for a minute or two. Since we are not a traditional retail store, people get confused when they pull up to a warehouse, and inexplicably just sit in their car and stare at my building. The next thing that happens is always the same. They will poke their head in the door and say
"Am I in the right place?"
My response is always the same.
"That depends on what you're looking for".
"I need some parts for my car. My friend's neighbor's plumber's dog's cousin said you could help me. Are you Scott?"
"Unfortunately. What can I do for you?"
I shouldn't say this, but whether or not I help someone really depends on my mood. I size a person up (which I think have gotten quite good at) and just decide on a whim if their boring problem is worth my time. I usually help, since I myself am a blue-collar working stiff, and taking customers' money is ultimately what my superiors are paying me for.
What I think is weird is that so many people come looking specifically for me. There are two people at my location who can take orders, and three people at a call center who can do the same. Prices are the same no matter who you talk to (although sometimes they are subject to change depending on a customer's attitude), so I suppose I should take it as a compliment that people spread my name around enough that I am developing a reputation for being a trustworthy retailer. Flattering to be sure, but I'd be much happier with a little peace and quiet.
The temptation to abuse that trust, however, is almost impossible to resist sometimes. My evil side just can't help screwing with people. For example, most retail parts stores will install wiper blades at no charge. Our company has no such policy that I know of, so when walk-in customers ask me if I can do that very thing for them, it really depends on how annoying they are. I went outside in the COLD and installed some blades on a van while it was COLD and snowy the other day, simply because the lady who bought them was very polite and asked if I could help, since she had no idea how. I also got a two dollar tip, which I thought was pretty cool because, hey, it's two dollars more than I had a minute ago.
On another occasion, I had a guy come in and complain about how expensive our wiper blades are and that he should get free installation for his trouble. I told him that due to insurance regulations, we are not legally permitted to perform any service on a customer's vehicle, and that if he needs help installing them, I could recommend a garage for him. I completely pulled that out of thin air, and he bought it without a second thought. He assured me in his (probably) most macho tone of voice that he can put his own wiper blades on, then proceeded to go out and fumble around with them for a while before driving off and never coming back. I think I was supposed to be insulted by that.
Another customer who is irresistible to screw with is the Guy Who Knows Nothing About Cars. If I'm busy, he is the worst, and usually blown off without making a sale. I just don't have the time to explain how a car works, or how to install a parts that you can't even pronounce. If I'm slow and therefore bored, he is a welcome distraction. It's pretty funny what mechanics will tell people sometimes. I've had people come in and ask for things that don't exist. Brake grease, control arm linkage, tie rod bushings, tailpipe caps, thermostat connectors, and ya know, those special headlights that they saw on TV.
My favorite though, is the guy who wanted four quarts of brake fluid. I asked if he would rather buy a gallon, since buying the bulk size would save him about two dollars. He angrily restated that he didn't need a whole gallon, he just needed four quarts. I sold him what he wanted, and took him for a couple extra bucks without even trying. I even had someone tell me once that they need to let the summer air out of their tires and put in winter air, and ask if I knew anyone who could do this for them. Sometimes I don't have the heart to tell them they've been had. I usually just tell them that whatever imaginary thing they're after is out of stock right now, and send them to a competitor's store.
On a semi-related topic, asking "How ya doin'?" is NOT an invitation to tell me about all of your weird and/or creepy ailments. This crazy dude came in today and rambled for a good seven or eight minutes about the time he cut his foot and had to go to the hospital. I got every gory detail of this epic adventure, whether I wanted it or not. Sometimes I really hate being pinned down in the name of customer service. As much as I would love to go all George Carlin on people and suddenly shout "Blow it out your ass!", I have to sit there and take it.* I've heard it all; I have a blister on my foot, an abscessed tooth, hemorrhoids, a slipped disc, a pulled muscle, a weak colon, iron deficiency, a generally fucked up pancreas, a thing growing on my neck, and my personal favorite, a story about a stomach ulcer told while eating a Big Mac.
I'm no doctor, but I think peoples' biggest ailment is that they don't have that filter between their brains and their big fat mouths. I'd just be happy with a little tact, or failing that, an ounce of consideration for people that don't need to hear about your stupid bullshit.
Speaking of, that's enough complaining out of me for today. I'm going to go drink some cheap bourbon, watch Dog the Bounty Hunter, and laugh at his ridiculous mullet. 2012 is off to an awesome start. I trust you've all broken you new-year's resolutions by now? If not, you'd better get started. The end of the world will be here before you know it.
*As I've previously stated, my job is not to sell auto parts, but to facilitate the separation of customers from their hard-earned cash. Random angry outbursts are counter-productive.
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