Raumungsverkauf - Closing Down Sale

It can’t be too long before every single shop in the country initiates its grim self destruct sequence and launches its final bid to recoup any tiny fraction of cash possible before creditors send round the heavies. The only jobs that seem completely safe these days are in debt collection and administration - that’s those who take over a buggered company after it goes under, not the faxing, filing and answering the phone people; you’re just as done for as the rest of us. Although I suppose the administrators will have faxing, filing, and phone answering to do, so it’s not all bad. An admin-admin worker could earn some serious dosh. Whenever shopping in a closing down sale though, you have to weigh up the amount of money you could be saving, against dealing with the sad, bleak expressions on the faces of the soon-to-be-jobless employees. I hate people who make extra demands or get really pissy with staff whose job loss is inevitable. “Check out back for it in this colour,” and “What do you mean you’re sold out?!”, or “It takes less energy to smile than frown!” Firstly it’s harsh - they don‘t need that, but more importantly, you’re playing Russian roulette every time you do it. Any one of them could have brought an Uzi or machete into work that day, and your casual dickishness could easily push them over the edge. Personally I want to avoid shopping centre bloodbaths, so always maintain an overly nice manner whenever interacting with next week’s fresh benefit claimants. I just hope the credit crunch finally swallows up high street mobile phone shops and their odious sales staff who’ll do anything to make you sign up for an enormous monthly contract. I went in to ask about buying a new pay-and-go handset, because my battery lasts for approximately ten offensive text messages. I plainly stated my average monthly spend was about six quid. “Right, but we do have one that’s just twenty five pounds per month and you get a hundred free blah, and fifty free blah and blah, blah, blah,” Despite my reasoning that I’d be £220 worse off a year, he just wouldn’t stop. It’s impossible to get any sort of impartial advice when the sales staff get a bloated chunk of my cash in commission. Let’s burn them all to the ground and donate the charred remains to brain cancer charities and deaf people. That’ll show ‘em.