I work at Macy's selling the shoes,

Sometimes the customers give me the blues.

They point, they grab, they send me, I find

But then they just can't seem to make up their mind.

"Do you have this in 8? Or maybe a 9?"

"I'd be happy to check if you'll just step in line."

They stand in the line with a scowl on their face,

While I rush for their size as if it's a race.

I'll search for one lady, lest she should shout

And I have her size, so I quickly bring it out.

But when I walk out the door, she hands me 3 more

So I quickly go back and try not to pout.

I've found that most women don't know what they want.

They'll grab 18 different shoes just so nonchalant.

They'll come in for sandals, but now they want boots..

These are the people I just want to shoot!

They play and take pictures, and think that it's funny

But these are the people who never spend money.

My favorite part of the job is returns,

But before you do this, there is so much to learn:

They wear their shoes out, 6 times in a row

But heaven forbid we ever say 'No'.

They bring their shoes back cause they don't have the money,

Or maybe they think losing commission is funny.

Whatever the reason, it really just sucks

When you're just going to work, to make a few bucks.

Another thing I love is when they leave a big mess,

But people like that are just slobs I guess.

"Someone will pick up after me" they assume,

Then maybe I should go trash their living room.

But the people who shop here, I don't always hate

Some of them are nice, and friendly -it's great!

I make sure to tell them that they are the best,

And make 10 times the difference than the people who are pests.

But I guess that if that were really so true...

This poem would have been more about them too.