Drunk_Dynasty wrote:There's a reason every time I go in there, there's someone trying to get me to sign up to their card.
.....and that reason is me.
Back in 2001 I was working at the smallest Cabela's store....started out in customer service....when I started there wasn't any club card people at the Cabela's stores during my first year....first six months for sure. The club card people weren't retail employees....they worked under a separate part of the company (foremost bank) and were a bunch of blonde college chicks at the store I was at in East Grease. They didn't do shit. Absolutely nothing. They sat at a table and did nothing. A couple of them had previously worked customer service yet whenever we got swamped they wouldn't jump up to the registers to help like a lot of other staff from various departments did....like myself when I later on worked firearms, hunting, fishing, almost every other department minus clothing because my girlfriend worked in clothing and they didn't want us working together which was fine because I thought the clothing department was pretty gay.....boring and gay.....any dude who wanted to help old women try and find some fashionable clothing at Cabela's was off.
Anyways, no one liked the club card bitches. They came in late, left early, didn't get their ass chewed at store meetings....didn't even have to attend store meetings. When we were getting reamed and having to stay late to front face everything, clean, and unload pallet after pallet of shit....they were long gone before the first pallet even got dollied out of the warehouse.
One Saturday both the club card chicks didn't show up. We weren't that busy in customer service so my department head/boss Audrey had me go sit at the club card table....if the registers got busy I'd jump back up and start ringing people through. My boss told me that if I could sign up thirty people for the club card she'd give me a hundred dollar gift certificate.
At the time, thirty people signing up for the club card was......she gave me the gift certificate incentive because she thought there was zero percent chance I'd even get to double digits. I think the store record was eight....and that's for two people working the booth. I can't remember how it happened.....I'm pretty high energy and full of myself....it's more or less false bravado and pumping my own tires......until it isn't. So I probably said something like, "I bet I can sign up thirty people!" and she laughed....actually I think tbars how it went down now that I think about it. Me playfully talking shit as if I was just having fun, my boss (who freaking loved me....was like a second mom my first couple years away from home) taking it as a joke, dishing out a joke of her own as an incentive that was based off a benchmark that was unbelievably impossible to reach, and me going to work.....
.....one of the club card chicks who called in that day was another of my bosses (department lead) daughter, as well as my girlfriend's whiny roommate. She was supposedly prone to seizures, so I'd always go, "How does Becca wash her clothes? She puts them in the bath tub and then gets in," and then I'd mock having a seizure. This bitch was the most coddled whiny spoiled brat....I didn't hate her.....she just annoyed me.....and it bugged the shit out of me how bad she and every other club card chick was at their job. When sitting around watching TV at my girlfriend's, which was like four or five nights a week, I'd ask about how many club cards they signed up.....tell her how pathetic it was that she sat there for eight hours and signed up three people.....she'd whine about how difficult it is, how it's much harder than I could ever know, that I have no idea what I was talking about, and that there was no way I'd sign up as many as she does.....and she'd brag about how good their numbers were and how happy Stephanie (the brunette chick down in Kearney recently appointed to head up the club card division personnel newly placed in the stores) was with how well they were producing.
It fukcing infuriated me to no end.....I'd routinely get in fights with my girlfriend's roommate about how much she sucked at signing people up for the club card. I don't know why I'm programmed to where shit like that will bug the fukc out of me, but I am. It was probably due to having to bust my ass up at the registers and watch her sit there and do nothing every day.....just sit at a table making more per hour than the rest of us not doing a fukcing thing while we rang up people as fast as we could for the entirety of our shifts unable to stop and take a piss because there was often no break in customers back in those days. I took the job in customer service because that was the only opening at the time I applied and looked at it as a way to get my foot in the door, back when jobs were actually hard to come by....especially at Cabela's where every college kid and their roommate wanted to work. Bottom line, I'd been stuck in customer service for a year, felt it was beneath me, which was only compounded by watching my girlfriend's roommate sit and do nothing...get to come in late....get to leave early....and have to hear her whine about how tough her job is and/or hear her brag about how awesome they were doing.....and as a result......
....I was gunning for her.
And then one day I finally got the chance, due to her bitch ass calling in sick yet again...."migraines"....so she could sit at home and watch some gay shit she had mailed to her back when Netflix mailed out dvd's, and this little bitch made the mistake of skipping work on a day she didn't check to make sure the other lazy bitch who was supposed to work the table with her didn't also call in. Keep in mind this was in 2001.....back when people went to work unless they were coughing up a lung. You did not want to call in sick. Most of the other leads were slightly older college chicks and you'd go from getting decent part time hours after Christmas (20-35 hours a week) to getting two four hour shirts in a two week span. You could hear it in their voices when you called in.....how utterly pissed off and disappointed they were in you, and you knew how you were totally fukced before your lead/boss politely ended the phone call.
So the club card bitches routinely calling in also irked the fukc out of me.....but when I'd point out how often it happened and be like, "WTF is this bullshit?" it'd always be met with a, "they're not retail employees...they don't work for the store so it wasn't my or anyone's issue what they did."
So it took a while....maybe six months, maybe even a year or more before I got my chance, but when it did..... you better believe I was gunning for those bitches.....
But I didn't get the hundred dollar gift certificate because I didn't sign up thirty people like I boasted I was going to do.......
.....my boss gave me the hundred at thirty but told me I'd get $250 if I could sign up sixty. So I handed her the one for a hundred back and she applied the amount to the new one for two-fiddy after I called it a day and hit sixty-five.
Like I said, the previous store record was like eight.....for two if not three chicks working store open to close....ten to twelve hours.
In my eight hour cashier shift.... and it was a least an hour in before they put me at the club card table, and I was still hopping on the registers when it was busy or relieving people on breaks......I fukcing crushed it......over eight times what the club card bitches could ever do.....and they were trained, experienced working it, and there was at least two of them working the table at all times.......and I'd never done it, had to have my boss quickly run through how to have people fill out the application.....for a credit card, something I'd yet to ever have.....had literally never filled out an application for a credit card in my entire life or even thought about it.....didn't know a thing about credit cards....didn't know what the interest rate was on it, had never heard of "annual rates or fees" until being asked what those were for the card i was slanging, didn't have the faintest clue what the minimum requisite credit score was in order to for an application to get accepted.......just a cocky cashier jumping behind the table for shits and gigs.....and I fukcing murdered them.
I went straight to my girlfriend's after work, she beat me there and in, so when I walked in there was Becca laying on the floor on her stomach, face towards the TV with her hands holding up her head, watching whatever dumb shit she had on.....my girlfriend Abby was already in the kitchen making us something for dinner (she was a good chick) and I couldn't fukcing wait to ask Becca why she didn't make it to work, feign like I cared about her bullshit excuse... "oh poor Becca" before going,
"Well, Guess who they had fill in for you at the Club Card table today?"
She listed off a bunch of people without it occurring to her that the answer might be me.....for whatever reason she didn't think they'd ever let me do the club card table.....typical dumb snotty spoiled bitch....thought her job was too serious and sophisticated for the likes of me......so after telling her it was in fact myself who filled in I then went,
"Care to Guess how many people I signed up today?"
A somber silence filled the room for a long moment until she meekly went,
"how many?'
"SIXTY-Fukcing-FIVE you dumb lazy bitch!"
I definitely didn't say the "you dumb lazy bitch" part but I didn't need to.....she knew what me getting sixty five meant, I knew it, we all knew it.....it was her worst fukcing nightmare.....
....which she didn't believe was actually happening to her at first. She didn't believe me when I showed her the gift certificate for $250. She didn't even believe it when she got up, slightly panicking, and walked to the kitchen to ask my girlfriend if I was telling the truth or messing with....and she calmly confirmed what I'd just told her was not me fukcing with her and in fact what had actually happened (my girlfriend didn't care for her "woe is me" bullshit and loved me for me....she liked being with a dude who talked a good game but also backed it up so she was all about me slaughtering the lady blonde club card bitches (my GF was a brunette) but she wasn't going to be mean and rub it in her face....she'd just laugh about it with me in private later).
Becca still didn't believe what happened....it wasn't until after calling her mom, my lead in customer service that day (lead, not the department head who gave me the gift certificate) and heard it from her.......her own mother confirming to her daughter that I just made her look exactly like the fukcing joke I'd always known she was so that everyone else could now see it.....clear as day.....nowhere to run to, no more bullshit excuses she could hide behind......exposed for what she was....a dumb, lazy, whiny pathetic little bitch.
And I still kept laughing after the bitch got off the phone with her mom and started crying and ran to her room and quickly shut her door.....it was fukcing hilarious. The chick who talked down to me for as long as she worked the club card table about how I didn't know what I was talking about whenever I'd tell her what she should do to sign up people.....the chick who bragged about how good she was at her job....the chick who'd be a bitch whenever I'd ask her to help with something at work ("I'm not a retail employee"), the chick firmly believed I was an idiot and had no clue what the fukc I was talking about.....the "hot head" who'd get infuriated whenever she'd talk shit......
....was now the dude who just fukcing served her up a fresh shit sandwich and humiliatied her in the worst and most utterly convincing fashion.
I didn't "break the record" by writing ten.....that would've been bad enough as it is....it would've for sure been embarrassing......
....but what I gave her was beyond that.....it was a brutal fukcing beat down, a back alley
clobbering swinging a pillow case holding several baseball sized rocks.....and it had only just begun.
They had no idea what I'd done to sign up that many people.....even though I told them what I did, verbatim....sparing no detail, but it was like a caveman who'd discovered fire trying to explain to another caveman who hadn't how to start one.......there's no way you can explain it so they'll understand. The only way they might possibly get it is by showing them....and not everyone will be able to do it even when you do.
You know what I did?
I asked people as they walked in if they wanted $25 off of whatever they came into to buy that day. The chicks literally just sat there and waited for people to approach them before then half-assed pretended to care about signing them up.....they didn't care....there was no incentive....other than working while at work and having dignity for yourself to do the job to the best of your abilities. So again, for them? Zero incentive since none of them had any dignity.....just some moderately hot empty bleached blonde bitches. They told me they'd been trained not to ask people....yeah, right.
Every day when the club card chicks were walking out I made a point to go, "How many did you get?" as they passed me.
Most days it was three to five. To which I'd go,
"Way to go...nice job....that's a really good number.......granted I only did thirteen times that by myself and did it while working the registers and doing other shit.....but five applications for the two of you working all day is pretty good. You girls have a good evening after such a hard and productive day's work....take care."
It was the gift that kept on giving. It went from me standing there watching them and having it piss me off.....to them sitting there all day watching me and having it piss them off....me smirking every time I made eye contact with the club card bitches.....because now they got to watch me all day and have it infuriate them.....how beautifully the tables had turned. They used to walk out every day with arrogant strides to their gait.....firmly holding the belief they were above the rest of us, and I made it to where we all looked at them as they left as outsiders who were far beneath us.....lazy pieces of shit who shamefully sat at a table and didn't do a fukcing thing. Incompetent. Unmotivated. Worthless slackers.
A month or so later it just so happened that they needed me to work the club card booth.....for an entire weekend. In hindsight I'm guessing this didn't happen by circumstance but that was the impression I was under at the time. I signed up 125 people on a regular weekend at the smallest, least trafficked store.....
....when it was the Club Card weekends at both the Owatonna and Mitchell store, and I smoked both of them....by myself....when they had all hands on deck, no less than eight club card people working open to close, at their highly advertised club card weekends.
After that Stephanie, the head bank chick from Kearney came up and spent two weekends with me to see how the fukc it was possible I had more people sign up than her and her whole team did in Owatonna for their club card weekend.
Bottom line is that I had fun.....I was energetic, outgoing, and yelling shit at every person who walked by like a used car salesman, and they all smiled and loved it and typically the only reason anyone kept walking was because I'd already gotten them signed up.
I was offered a salaried position in Kearney to head up the club card division from Stephanie, and I turned it down.....being that I was a dipshit twenty-one-year-old snot nosed college punk with a girlfriend I really liked and who loved hunting and fishing right where he was at. It never occurred to me what actual opportunity I was turning down without any real consideration since you don't know what you don't know.....and I didn't know much at twenty-one other than I liked shooting ducks and I liked my girlfriend in that order.
Oh well. Easy come easy go.
I worked at Cabelas four and a half years. The first two were awesome.....Dick and Mary Cabela flew in every year to thank each of us for our efforts and hand us our Christmas bonuses, which were actually pretty nice. I got $350 to $400....not a bad bonus for a part time cashier. I loved working there. Countless stories and life lessons....met my first serious girlfriend there.....made a ton of friends there....it was our entire social circle really....work, party, hunt, fish, and fukc together.....learned a lot of cool stuff from a lot of cool people.
Then the IPO happened and the place went to shit overnight....became Walmart with mounts. No hours, treated like shit, skeleton crew.....they even worried about cutting costs via the electrical bill and shit like that.
I ended up getting fired for refusing to ask people if they wanted to sign up for the club card. They'd implemented a quota and each employee across the entire store had to ask a certain amount of people that every single day and I told them to fukc off......I worked in hunting, or fishing, or whatever department I was in......and I didn't work in the club card department, and it wasn't my job to ask people....and if they needed employees to ask customers if they'd signed up for a club card than what they needed wasn't better store employees, but they needed to fire all their club card people for not doing their fukcing job. I'd set all the marks....so even though they'd gradually gotten better they'd still only sign up maybe thirty to forty people over a good weekend.....and since I'd not only done better but did double that my first day doing the club card....I had zero sympathy for them and wasn't about to do their fukcing job. They needed to do their fukcing job. I needed to help customers buy a new rod and reel, or gun, or goose call...that's what I was there to do.....I wasn't there to do that and do all the work for the club card people too.
I was able to keep that up for the better part of a year or more....had enough equity built up that I was able to get away with telling them to pound sand for as long as I did.....plus it was hard to argue with my logic. Why didn't the club card people just sign up more people----was a pretty solid argument coming from a guy who everyone knew could get behind the club card table and do just that any and every fukcing day he felt like it.....I never needed any help from anyone.....I was able to effectively do that job, so how could they expect different from the club card people they had to where I or anyone else was supposed to help them? Why did they need help? They didn't....not from my standpoint and there wasn't any manager there who could argue with me whenever they tried to push me on the quota for asking people to sign up.....
"THAT'S NOT MY JOB. IF IT WAS YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO BE HOUNDING EVERY OTHER EMPLOYEE TO HELP.....I DO MY JOB WHERE I'M AT....EXPECT THAT FROM YOUR CLUB CARD PEOPLE AND WE WOULDN'T BE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION NOW, WOULD WE?"
Eventually they got tired of my attitude and not playing ball, fired me, and no one gave a shit...not me...not them....because Cabela's had turned into something no one cared about anymore, besides the shareholders, so I was about as sad to walk out the door as they were to see me walking out it.
And that's the story behind how I'm the reason every motherfukcer at Cabela's will ask you if you want to sign up for a club card.....
.....I'm sorry. My sincerest apologies....never thought my bullshit would get carried to the ridiculous lengths they've taken it.
The End
