I work at a clothing store on the sales floor. My job involves interacting with customers to help them find what they need, as well as folding, organizing, and storing clothes. During one of my shifts, I came across a table completely overloaded with clothes stacked into sky-high piles. Naturally, I decided to tackle that table first.
While I was working, I noticed that the shelf beneath the table was empty. These shelves are usually used for storing excess clothes. My plan was simple: create organized piles with only 2–3 items per size (as per our guidelines) and store the excess on the shelf. The rules specify that piles should go from largest size on the bottom to smallest on top and should ideally reach the bottom of the price sign. If a pile ends up looking too small, it’s an unwritten rule to add more until it looks presentable. So, I followed the rules and started storing the extras underneath.
That’s when one of my managers walked by and asked what I was doing. I explained my process, but he wasn’t happy. He insisted that everything had to go back on the table. I tried to explain why this was a bad idea—tall piles make it harder for customers to find their size and more likely to create a mess if someone accidentally knocks them over. But he didn’t care and doubled down on his instructions. So, I stacked everything.
By the time I was done, some piles were taller than my chest—and I’m 6’2”! But hey, the boss wanted everything on the table, so I moved on to another task.
Later, a father and his toddler came into the store. The dad stood next to that overloaded table while holding his baby on his shoulder. I think he was trying to calm or burp the baby. As he swayed back and forth, he accidentally bumped into the side of the table. A few piles of shirts toppled to the floor behind him.
As if fate itself wanted to prove my point, the baby promptly puked all over the fallen shirts. Momentum ensured that a lot of them were covered in the mess. Because of health and safety regulations, we had no choice but to throw out all the soiled shirts. There were easily 10–15 (maybe 20) shirts, each priced around $10, so we ended up losing a few hundred dollars in inventory.
The icing on the cake? That same manager who insisted on stacking all the shirts tried to pin the blame on me. But when I explained the situation to another manager, they weren’t having it. They put the blame squarely back on the first manager and even made him pay for the damages out of his own pocket.
Let’s just say the next time I suggest a better way to organize the table, I doubt I’ll get much pushback.
