S1, E2: Adult Scholastic Book Fair

Welcome to the chaos that is Ricci Talks Sh!t, where nostalgia meets existential dread, and customer service horror stories take center stage.

Episode 2: We dive into the sacred childhood institution of the Scholastic Book Fair—because nothing screams “peak happiness” like overpaying for a scented eraser shaped like a frog, complete with questionable spending habits.  Oh, and don’t miss the tale of the high-and-mighty doctor who called customer service to flex his wallet and remind us all that being rich doesn’t make you likable—or capable of dialing the right number.
 
From “call me Daddy” to fragrance thieves, we’re serving up stories so ridiculous you’d think they were scripted. Spoiler: customer service reps are tougher than they look, and fragrance doesn’t belong in your pants.

Moral of the story? Be nice to people, laugh at the ridiculousness of life, and always double-check the department you’re calling—or risk becoming the punchline of my podcast.

Don't forget to rate and review on any platform! Help me mold this podcast to its final evolution. :)

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Transcript

Ricci T: 0:00

Welcome to Ricci talk shit. The podcast where I, your fearless leader, Ricci, sits on her ass and talks about, well, whatever the hell I feel like talking about. We're going to go into deep dives into the chaos of life. We're going to rant about why pineapple on pizza shouldn't be a debate. And this is where logic is going to take a backseat and fun's going to take the wheel. Oh, and just so we're clear, this isn't your overly curated, perfectly scripted Pinterest worthy pod. No. No. It's not. It's messy, opinionated, and dripping with sarcasm. If you know me, then you know. So grab a drink, buckle up, and prepare for a rollercoaster of hot takes, unsolicited advice, and random shenanigans that you never asked to know about, but you absolutely need to know about. This is Ricci Talk Shit, where there's no rules except for one. Don't take anything I say too seriously. Let's sit down and talk some shit.

1:07

Here we are episode two coming in hot people. So let's crank up the snark and dive into the swirling chaos of nostalgia and absurdity. That is my life. So let's start by talking about how I was scrolling the internet the other day because that's what we all do when avoiding real responsibilities. Am I right? And this video popped up. It was one of those, I'm here to remind you about your childhood creators. And she was gushing about the Scholastic Book Fair. Now listen, if you're a 90s kid. Or, fine, I'll be generous, a 2000s kid, you already know the vibes. The Scholastic Book Fair was the social event of the year. Forget prom, forget going to recess, go to the Scholastic Book Fair. This was the day that you strategically begged your parents for 10 to spend on, I don't know, maybe anamorphs. But you walk out with a poster of a kitten and, overpriced gel pens or, those smelly erasers that broke in half the minute you would use them. And don't even get me started on those scented markers that they used to have. It smelled like chemicals and regret, but honestly though, pure ecstasy as a kid, best day ever. Now I was reminiscing and I thought, why don't we have something like that for adults? And then it hit me like a rogue shopping cart. Amazon. It's just the grown up version of Scholastic Book Fair. Like, have you seen my cart? My husband has. He routinely goes, what the hell are you buying today, Rick? And honestly, it's a valid question when you're staring at 500 items ranging from glitter gel pens, random avocado slicers, and bathroom cleaning supplies that are just piling up and never get used. I mean, the pens, of course, they're a no brainer because I'm a sucker for anything that writes in pastel blue or sparkles because, you know, ADHD, right? Something shiny. Then there's the weird algorithm suggested crap, like cleaning gadgets, random kitchen tools, and who knows what else. It's a mess, but it sparks joy. So yeah, Amazon is the adult scholastic book fair. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. Or maybe even Temu could be the newer version. Like, where else can you buy a phone case, a pasta strainer, and a miniature decorative cat statue, all for 6. 99? Priorities, people, let me know what's in your cart because I need to know who else has questionable spending habits like I do. Yeah, I can budget, but honestly, I feel like a free range chicken when it comes to Amazon. So let me know how you feel about that. Speaking of Amazon, actually, I'm going to pause this and go buy something that I need for my podcast, so I'll be back. Let's pivot from childhood innocence to the black hole of human interaction, customer service. Oh yes, I've done my time. It's like going to jail, but worse. Back in the day, I worked on the business side of a massive internet company. Basically, I was the middleman between irate business owners and the sales team. Sounds fun, right? No. It was Dante's seventh circle of hell, but with hold music. Actually, it wasn't that bad. A lot of the account managers that I worked with were amazing and they were super responsive. So I will give them that, but working with the client sometimes was a nightmare. Let me tell you though, the real joy of the job was when random people clearly in the wrong department would call in. These are the ones that either screamed at the automated prompts until they broke the system, they hit zero until their finger was numb, or they just find a random number on Google and go like, yeah, this will do it. Spoiler alert, it never did it. It was never the right number. Most folks, though, were cool when I explained to them that they reached the wrong line. But then there was the others. You know the type. I'm better than you because I own a suit and I can afford Starbucks every day. That type. This one guy, though, he was next level. He called in dripping with that unmistakable tone of, I have no idea who you are, but I'm certain that you're beneath me. He was real fun. Let me set the stage for you. I'm sitting at my desk, juggling multiple calls, drowning in hold music, and trying to explain to Karen, number 47 of the day, why her business account doesn't include free HBO. It's a typical Tuesday. Then you call in. A doctor. No less. Your tone already dripping with superiority as you launch into a tirade. Apparently you've been on hold for far too long, which of course is my fault. You start by asking me in the most condescending tone imaginable, if I think you're stupid. And here's the thing, I don't. I really don't. But by the time you finish this call, I'm probably rethinking that stance. You graciously remind me that you've spent years in school, enduring countless hours of study, practice, and grueling work to become a doctor. Bravo, truly. You achieved a lot. Then, because clearly this conversation wasn't humiliating enough for me, you throw in the kicker. that I make more than you in a day than you'll ever make in a year. Well, thank you. That little tidbit of information was just the boost of confidence I needed while earning a paycheck that barely covers my coffee addiction. You really know how to brighten someone's day, don't you? But here's the thing, Doc. I get it. You're busy saving lives, diagnosing illnesses, and generally being a very important person. But maybe? Just maybe you could have used some of that impressive education to read the fucking bill in your hand before calling the wrong department, because shocker, I can't help you with your home internet connection from the business service line. And if the wait time was so unbearable, perhaps you could have dialed the correct number from the get go or better yet, use some of that critical thinking skills that you've obtained that they teach you in med school. Just a thought. So to you, Dr. Superior, I say this. No, I don't think you're stupid. I just think you're the kind of person who mistakes self importance for intelligence. Have a great day and good luck with your next call because I won't be the one answering it. Bye bye. So, I really wish that was a joke, but nope. That is a 100 percent true story. It happened to me between 2013 and 2015, during my time in customer service purgatory. And let me tell you, people actually act like this. Yes, really. Picture, I'm on the phone with a doctor who decides it's their life's mission to ruin my day. They belittle me, tell me I'll never make as much in a year as they make in a day, and sprinkle in some unsolicited life advice. Kind of like I'm doing here. Honestly, the audacity was impressive. Like, if entitlement were an Olympic sport, they would definitely take home the gold. Here's the thing, though. We all need to be more mindful about how we treat people, no matter what job they have. The pandemic, if nothing else, taught us that we rely on everyone, from the grocery store clerk to the delivery driver to the person taking your call when your Wi Fi craps out. So maybe just maybe we keep that same energy post pandemic and stop acting like customer service reps are our personal punching bags. Cool. Cool. Now, speaking of. Absurd calls. Let me shift gears and tell you about this one that's buried into my brain forever. One day, this guy calls in with a deep syrupy Hispanic accent, and the conversation starts off normal enough. I'm asking him what kind of business he has, what kind of services he in need of, and then I'm about to fill out the form. So, my first question is, what is your name? Now, apparently that's a loaded question. I thought it was simple. But out of nowhere, he drops this bomb. You can call me Daddy. Oh, I wish I was kidding. And no, this isn't a cute shout out to the podcast. This man literally requested I address him as daddy. I didn't know whether to laugh, cry or just hang up and walk straight out of the building. Had no idea. But it gets better or worse, depending on your perspective, I guess. When I wrote the information down and I had to transfer it to the manager, he needed me to put a note on the paperwork. That note stated to make sure that they know his name is Daddy. I mean, sir, whose daddy are you? Are you a pimp daddy Anna Sue's daddy? I don't know. Wherever you are, Daddy, I hope you're thriving. You creeped me the hell out, but. I still laugh about that call almost a decade later. Creepy and hilarious, an iconic combo. Now I've talked about some of my time in customer service and there was a specific time that I worked in makeup. Oh, the stories I can tell you from just working in that company alone is endless, but there was this one time that I had to stop someone from stealing. I was literally watching them shove Fragrance down their pants. I wish I was lying. They had rubber bands around their ankles where the pants were and they were dropping down testers and samples and full bottles of perfume down their pants one at a time. So, yeah, I literally had to call the police on them and you can see them running out and I guess one of the Rubber bands broke. And as they're running out of the store, there's a trail of fragrance, unopened bottles that must have slipped out of their pants. They left a snail trail of friggin cologne and perfume like Hansel and Gretel, leaving breadcrumbs Now, there was also another time where I had a sweet elderly woman who came in for a makeover and I helped her find products that worked for her skin and she was so overjoyed she tried to tip me in cash and company policy said no. So what she did instead, she bought three of the products that I used on her that I told her I liked as well that I use in my daily routine. And she bought them three for herself, and she bought another three for me as a thank you. She was adorable, and honestly, the moments like that are what makes all the chaos of working in retail kind of worth it. They're sweet people like that. Then there's also your, overbearing jerks. that come in or call if you're working in bras and they're buying something for Valentine's Day and they buy one set for their wife and one set for their mistress, that was always fun too. Definitely, had some men come in, stare at my breast, and say, My wife's about your size. What size bra do I need? No ring on their finger, no anything. Just creepy men coming in, staring at my breast, and asking me what bra size I wear so they can buy it for their wife. And I said, sir, that doesn't really work like that. If they want to come in and get measured, I can help them. Or if you want to look through their bra drawer and see what size they normally wear, that would be more helpful than you staring at my chest. Yeah, I don't think my manager liked that response so much when I would give it to customers but, you know, I had to do what was best for me. No one else was out there advocating for us to feel comfortable and not feel harassed in the early 2010s. Not that they didn't think about it, it just wasn't really Advocated for, I should say. So, whatever we had to do, we had to do for ourself. I mean, trust me, this was not a one time situation. This was a constant. Men would come in to our store and they would do this type of thing all the time. They would ask us what bra size they need for their wives, or they would ask us what panty size, and they would look, like, at our bottom halves and say, oh, she's got a big ass like yours. So what size underwear do you use so that I can buy the same for my girl? And it's like, on one hand, they're probably joking half the time, but you never know. I would always laugh and go, ha ha, that's so funny, like, yeah, my eyes are up here, you know, to kind of lighten the situation. But I'm someone that could take a joke a little bit easier than, say, someone else. So if that happened to someone else who was more timid or shy, you know, I would also walk in and be like, Oh yeah, we don't talk to people that way. Or I would try to lighten up the situation because you can tell that those people were really uncomfortable when this would happen. It was just about advocating for ourselves during that time. We really had to, you know, do what was necessary to stay sane in these jobs sometimes. I made some really great longtime friends working in these industries. I kind of had a blast the first 10 years of my career. Had a lot of good times. Late nights. Early, early mornings. That's probably what one of my Facebook posts were that I saw in memories today. Let me quote it exactly because it's actually pretty funny. It was really insightful, I feel like, back then, but it said, Dear 5AM, fuck off. Love, Ricci. Yeah, that was back in 2012, I'm going to say that was probably getting ready to go in early for a floor set or doing shipment at one of my companies that I worked at. I worked at two jobs in retail at the same time for about three years. there was a lot of late nights early mornings and 18, 19 hour days. It was cool, random, long time, a lot going on, but overall really, really good. So, that's episode two. We've covered childhood bliss. Questionable adult spending habits and the sheer audacity of customer service callers. From dealing with entitled doctors, to fielding calls from mysterious daddies, and catching fragrance thieves, my job history has been nothing short of chaotic. And trust me, I have so many more stories to share with you. Make sure to follow me on all socials. I'm on TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, you know, if you're a million years old I would love to hear from you. So let me know if you relate to any of this

Ricci T: 17:06

and I'm going to catch you next week. Until then, I hope you have a great day and don't forget, keep talking shit. Okay. Bye.