The end of work at Currys

Moi

Currys has been a strange eight years of work. I wanted to say “haha, fuckers!” and write up a shocking kiss and tell expose before I skipped off into the sunset-

those red signs in the shop? orphans blood, swear on me mum

-but that would just get me into trouble.

So. Currys is a dead end retail work environment, devoid of opportunities to advance and the necessity to think, but my interactions with customers and coworkers have by turns been tragic and amusing, and never short of engaging. Eight years. One-third of my entire life, if you are feeling morbid.

I started out during my last year in secondary school, as I ostensibly got ready for my Leaving Certificate. , I dumped a shitty job in Dunnes Stores as a cleaner for Currys, on the ground that Dunnes Stores is an even worse workplace. Dunnes Stores is still horrible, if the horror stories my cousin repeats are even halfway true.

Me being me, I got myself fired during my first day in Currys for some pretty indiscreet comments, although I have clearly made things well.

I started and stayed as warehouse staff and-although my friends will argue otherwise-I picked up a large amount of know-how and life tips. My tasks at Currys broadened out into technical support and customer service for a bit. I was taken off because I could be a complete arsehole to customers who tried to bring back iPods, or computer, or camera, because ignorance.

READ THE FUCKING MANUAL, YOU TWAT

I have loved and hated many co-workers through the years. I have had nothing but absolute respect for the warehouse staff through the years, except for Sean the yank, Philip and Adrian. You three can stub your toes for all I care. But the rest of you I respect.

While I know a lot of people have a very dim view about sales staff in general, from where we stand, you can’t help but respect them. I’ve seen one convince a young couple that those flat-panel speakers are telepathically controlled, that they will automatically interface wirelessly with your TV, and are so fragile that the five-year warranty is a must. True story, too-it happened back in 2005?

I bought my first computer through Currys, a one-third share with Frank my brother and sister. Oh, the fights.

I threatened to quit from Currys more times than I care to count, but honestly who the fuck else is ever going to hire me? I stuck it out had mostly a good time. There was the mouse in my pants, the customer who tried to seduce me, the scooter races, and the drugged up junkie who started headbutting a wall when we stopped him shoplifting.

by Mark on
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