KEY POINTS:
We often hear "shop-girls" spoken of. No such persons exist. There are girls who work in shops. They make their living that way. But why turn their occupation into an adjective? Let us be fair. We do not refer to the girls who live on Fifth Avenue as
"marriage-girls".
That's American author O. Henry pleading for a fair go for retail assistants back in 1906. He was wasting his breath. O. Henry was one of the first authors to attempt to document the experience of women who flocked to find work in the department stores springing up in the great urban centres of America - Chicago, San Francisco and, most of all, New York.
He illuminated the lives of this first generation of shop assistants, or clerks as they were then known; documenting their struggles, their lives and their loneliness with a wit and sensitivity that earned him the title "the little shop girls' knight".
He even developed a whole new form of literature in which to do it; the short story. O. Henry has long since left us (he died in 1910) and with him has departed one of the few champions of that most reviled of career women - the shop bitch.
Whether it's the hilarious counter hags from Kath and Kim or those slanty eyed clothes-horses who finally get their comeuppance in Pretty Woman, shop-girls have become an easy and inevitable target for satirists and disgruntled shoppers everywhere.
What is it about retail assistants that drives us crazy? The attitude? The grooming? The discounts? Those on the front line aren't really sure themselves.
"It's like people expect you to be rude because you're selling expensive clothes, but I find that way of thinking really difficult to understand," says Zambesi's Jarrad Turpin, a veteran of six years in high-end retail.
"I mean, why on earth would we? The secret to doing a good job isn't that one-off $1000 sale, it's having people come back into the store and build up a relationship with us. Why would we be rude when we want them to come back?"
Those of us who've found ourselves on the pointy end of salesgirl superciliousness are probably asking the same question. Why are so many salespeople so, well, nasty?
While not exactly evading the question, Turpin's Zambesi colleague Briar Neville points out that not everyone is at their most comfortable entering a high-end retail space.
"People can be quite stand-offish when they first come into a store, but that's often a defense mechanism. The job is about reading people, so you try to get a sense of what they're like from the first moment they say hi! And from there on it's about interacting with them and listening to them and helping them find what they want."
How lovely! I'm looking forward to that next time I walk into a trendy shop and find a sullen child doing her nails. But what happens if this intimidated, defensive customer won't be helped, if they insist on just being plain rude to you?
"In those situations I always try to kill it with kindness. There's nothing that can break the smile," says Neville with a beatific grin.
What a pro. Saintly patience is obviously on the requirement list for potential Zambesi employees, despite what local bloggers have been saying about them recently.
Shop assistants have long been pilloried for their arrogance, their rudeness and self-absorption, but what about the people they have to serve? Customers certainly aren't perfect either.
Neville is perceptive in recognising the potential defensiveness of some shoppers, but that excuse doesn't justify the outrageous carry-on exhibited by potential customers in some of our flashest boutiques.
In the course of researching this piece, I spoke to representatives from just about all of our high-end retailers here in New Zealand. Most spoke only under conditions of strictest anonymity (discretion is valued in the industry, luckily for many of you), and the stories I heard were enough to turn your hair blue.
Bizarre behaviours ranging from shoe throwing ("it was the wrong size"), to spitting (for shame!), to the amorous pair of ladies who retired to the changing room of a well-loved boutique together for a vocal and amorous afternoon of trying it on.
All in a day's work for the Auckland shop assistant beavering away in the trenches of customer service.
In the face of such consumer capriciousness, insecurity and downright insanity, there would appear to be a need for some sort of shop-girl solidarity. While O. Henry's clerks were largely solitary creatures, the modern mania for social networking has even extended to the catty, competitive world of retail.
Enter The United League of Shopgirls, a Facebook group dedicated to fostering sisterhood among those on the coalface of the retail industry. Scroll through its 50 members and you'll spot some of the most recognisable and well respected faces in high-end Auckland retail.
The site is decorated with photos of shop-girls (of both genders, it's elastic like that I'm told) posing together in nightclubs or in their stores and discussion topics including "Should children be allowed instore???" (Sample answer: "I like kids. They're way more interesting than some of our customers.")
Co-founders Gini Earl (Ponsonby's Jaime boutique) and Aimee O'Regan (Karen Walker, High St) have set out a high-minded mission statement for their virtual league: "Tired of the factions existing between shop-girls in Auckland city and the nation throughout, the co-founders of the United League of Shop Girls Unlimited ... set out to unite and empower the loose networks that exist across the spectrum."
Earl says she and her friend set up the site partly as a way of confronting the negativity and derision visited on their kind by people both outside and inside the fashion industry, and partly as a way of fostering closer ties amongst the workers themselves.
And what would create the aforesaid factions?
Earl is coy, but it appears that one potential source of disunity might be the gentlemen who devote themselves exclusively to securing the attentions of a High St kind of girl.
O. Henry's "swell", the fancy-talking guy who makes eyes at a girl across her glove counter, is alive and well in 21st century Auckland it seems, but the new breed of shop-girl is too clever to let him come between herself and her co-workers.
O. Henry's American shop-girl was a lovable creature; poor but honest, lonely but principled. She didn't choose a career in retail; she worked because she had to, not because she wanted to, and would have been happy to give up her independence for a good marriage, preferably to one of those aforementioned swells who spent up large at her store.
Fast forward to 21st-century Auckland and there aren't too many of her sisters and brothers waiting to be rescued.
"We're almost in our 30s," says Turpin, speaking for himself and Neville. "We chose to do this as a profession, we regard what we do as a skill. We love the label, we wouldn't want to wear anything else ourselves and we get such a thrill from being able to help people who are looking for a different sort of experience. That's the fun of it. That and the amazing people we meet, people with whom the relationship often goes beyond just what happens in the store."
They are satisfied careerists, but also seasoned professionals - they've learned how to navigate the industry. But what does retail, with its long hours, trying conditions (The boredom! The standing around!) and relatively meagre pay offer to a newbie?
There's the clothes obviously, but before you start jumping to all sorts of conclusions about the mountains of free stuff lavished on shop, girls consider the facts.
People who work in retail must come to work wearing the clothing they're selling. Not only that, but many of them must wear current season stock. Even factoring in a 30-40 per cent discount, it don't come cheap. Even with a uniform allowance. There are a few fashion addicts who work a day or two a week for cheaper clothes, but they're rarely the full-timers. For them a uniform is just that.
One thing a part-time job in a shop does offer though is experience and insight into the world of fashion design. It's exactly this that drew Katie Brown to a part-time job Kate Sylvester almost a year ago.
"It's an invaluable learning experience in terms of learning about a designer business; I really respect and admire Kate as a designer, and her different approach to fashion ... it's given me a lot of insight into how a designer label runs.
"We visit the workroom to be shown the range each season, there are various events where we meet a lot of people within the industry, and selling the product of the label instore means experience in observing the market - where Kate Sylvester sits, who buys it, how the garments fit, and so on - which is so important in terms of working out who you're designing for."
Brown is one of the many Auckland assistants who's a world away from the Nancy shop-girl of 1900s New York. She's using the job not as a way of supporting herself until marriage, but as a foot up the ladder into her chosen career.
Still, as she admits, some things haven't changed that much in over a century. "There are still the few customers who think shop-girls can't possibly know very much about anything much because they're shop-girls ... which is just funny really."
HOW TO GET THE BEST OUT OF YOUR RETAIL ASSISTANT, AS TOLD BY THOSE ON THE FRONT LINE
* Use common courtesy. If we say "hello" or "how are you?" it's only polite to reply. And by the way, the standard reply to, "how are you" isn't usually "I'm just looking". There's a difference.
* Please don't be grumpy with us just because you're having a bad day. And we'll try not to be grumpy with you when we're having a bad day.
* If we follow you around too much and make annoying comments, we recommend you leave the store.
* Please feel free to ask us questions if you're after something specific. We may know about other sizes, colours or similar shapes out the back, on another rack or in another store.
* Can you trust us? Well, if you walk out of the changing room in something that you just know looks terrible, and we tell you it looks absolutely fabulous, then you probably shouldn't. If you're desperate for feedback and you have no one else to turn to in the store, then you could always set a cunning trap - walk out in something that's too small and get our feedback. If we tell you it's too small, you know you can trust us, at least a little.
* If we're really good at our job, we'll tell you when it's too small or the wrong colour and then we'll suggest something else that might be better.
* If we're surly and rude, then don't give us your money, that's all there is to it.
* Believe it or not, we often know our own stock best. If we know it's dark blue but you think it's black, then the customer most definitely won't be right.
* Don't come in and try to pick a fight on purpose, thanks. If you don't like what this shop sells then wait until you leave before making comments about stock being ugly, badly made or too expensive. We may only work here but this is just plain rude.
* Foster our friendship. As one long term retail professional puts it, "it's like visiting a restaurant often. Good staff reward good customers, calling them to let them know when new stock is in or giving small discounts or holding things for them. Treat your shopgirl or boy right and it could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, which could eventually lead to you looking fantastic. We'll go the extra miles for our loyal customers."
