It is ten in the morning and I am finally more settled at my desk. I will have lunch with my 21-year-old grandson, Nicc, whom I adore, and I cannot wait. I am also feeling a bit uncomfortable because I know that fairly soon I will have to scold some sales ladies we employ. They are very stubborn about how to handle their store displays.
I am in charge of Yzabelle in Kultura, Shoemart's store. We cannot agree on how the goods will be displayed. Everytime I go there I get driven up the wall by the way the single stand is fixed. Everything is shown so nothing rises to the surface. The shelves are crowded so nothing stands out. We have a Pinoy line, I cannot find it. We have a Rizal line, I cannot find it either. Everything is so goddamn crowded. They fix it in front of me then after I leave they return it according to their standards.
Here's where the difficulty is: their standards. They shop wherever they shop, maybe at the market near their homes where all the goods are laid out the way they lay it out in Kultura. So they bring that mentality to work. I have to tell them that the shoppers in Kultura are different. That style of displaying is for people of their class. The shoppers in Kultura belong to a higher class. How do you teach them that?
First, I hate talking about class. It's not right in a country that pretends to be a democracy but actually has a caste system and each level has different tastes. How can I teach them to set aside the class thing and to focus on the store's class instead of their own. So here's another thing I hate to do but I have to do. It's moments like this that make me want to quit my job and just go home and have a quiet life. But then I know that that kind of life would bore me too and this is probably the best life I can have right now.
Haaay naku. I hate what I have to do.
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