Guest Post: Steve Bluestein

I have a special post for you all. You all know how I love stories about people and their lives. This story comes from Steve Bluestein whom I’ve interviewed here at CameronCowan.net for you. This comes from his first book, 49 1/2 SHADES OF BLUE…stein.

Now Here’s Steve

There I was, working on the main floor of Alexanders sweater department. This was the department that was a mess and they transferred me to in order to clean it up. Part of the problem was the Divisional Manager, Harry. Harry was about 60 years old, short, bald, grey hair, pouchy stomach and a milquetoast. He was a nice guy, a sweet guy, but he had no backbone. Everyone walked all over him. The buyers walked over him, the managers walked over him, the sales girls… the guy carried one of those pedestrian bridges around with him so people could walk over him at the drop of a hat. If he had stars on his chest he could have been the sidewalk outside Mann’s Chinese Theater. Jerry lived in constant fear of losing his job and at his age he should have, where was he going to go?

The store manager was Mr. Shat or as I called him, Mr. Shit. He was strong where Harry was weak. He was decisive where Harry was indecisive. He was a mean, hard- nosed prick that made Harry a nervous wreck. At meetings when he would ask Harry for figures, Harry would take out his run sheet only to drop it on the floor and have it unravel like a roll of toilet paper. Shat would scream at Harry and embarrass him in front of the other divisionals. It was a love/hate relationship that went on for years. No matter what Harry did it was wrong in Shat’s eyes and Harry tried so hard to please. But he was always wrong.

Along comes this 22-year-old kid from the Tomorrow Shop with balls the size of watermelons. ME! “Listen Harry, we can’t let the girls walk all over us. They have to know that when they take something out they have to put it back. That’s why this place looks like a shit hole.” And I set out to change the way the staff operated. I yelled a lot. I’ve got a short fuse. It made Harry nervous. He was a gentle, quiet man. He was Don Knotts. I was a crazed, insane drill sergeant getting these sales people into fighting shape and it was working.

I must have been in the department around six weeks and had made a substantial dent in the mess in the back room. Part of Alexander’s merchandising strategy was to have bargain tables on the main floor and any department with a promotional item could go to Gloria, head of promotions, and get a table on the main floor to blow out the merchandise. I had been left years of stock that had never been marked down and was out of season. I marked everything down to $1.99 to get rid of it and made close friends with Gloria. She gave me whatever I wanted because I was bringing in thousands of dollars in sales.

Ok, so I get a group of cashmere sweaters marked down to 4.99 and Gloria has given me not one table, but all three. I put up the sign “CASHMERE SWEATERS” and within three minutes 300 women are standing around the tables waiting for the merchandise to come out. The first carton hits the floor and it’s a riot. Women are pushing and screaming and yelling and there’s actually a tug of war going on over merchandise. I get all 20 boxes out on the floor and I’m watching the insanity when Harry comes out to stand next to me. “Nice job,” he says as we watch women walk away with five, six, seven sweaters at a time.

While we’re standing there, an elderly woman approaches us. She’s the classic old lady you see in movies from the 40’s. Grey hair, straw hat with pin, little print dress, brown shoes, gloves, purse under over her arm… got the picture? She has a faint voice with a charming mid-western accent. “Excuse me.” She begins. Harry responds, “Yes, can I help you?” “Well, I was wondering if there were more cas….” And with that the woman keels over at the waist and falls on the counter. Her feet are on the floor but she’s draped over the counter. Harry screams… “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! WE’VE KILLED A CUSTOMER WITH OUR BARGAINS!” I scream at him. “DON’T JUST STAND THERE, GET SOMEONE!!!” And he runs to the phone. I stay with the woman. Within three minutes Harry is back and is soon followed by Shat. As the two arrive the woman pops up as if nothing has happened and says, “…mere sweaters. I need one I’m a size six.” Shat looks at Harry like, “You asshole, there’s nothing wrong.” And Harry says, “I swear to you she was dead.” There was a pathetic pleading in his voice that I can still hear 40 years later. Shat storms off with Harry in tow. The woman looks at me and says, “What just happened?” And I tell her that she fell over. “You’ve got to tell me exactly what happened. I need to tell my doctor. They think I may have narcolepsy.” I give the information to the woman…. And I NEVER TOLD HARRY. That guy went to his grave thinking he had killed a customer who then came back to life just to shop. And I have never shared this story with a single person in my life until now. Rot in hell? I think I’ll probably stir-fry in hell.

Not all the Alexander’s stories were funny. One was actually very scary. I was standing at the promotional table when I saw two very tall, young women, who were definitely gang members, walking around the tables. They didn’t look like shoppers, they looked like shoplifters and so I was keeping an eye on them. Why? They were wearing heavy coats in the summer, they weren’t looking at merchandise; all they looked at were the other shoppers. And sure enough, I see one girl bump into a woman, open her purse while the second girl reaches in and takes the shopper’s wallet. All the training we had told us to call security at once. If I had done that, the girls would have gotten away and the shopper would have lost her wallet. So, I walked up to the girls and said, “I saw what you did, give me the wallet.” They stood six inches taller than me. “I didn’t take no wallet.” “ Yes you did, I saw you do it. Give me the wallet and I won’t call security.” I was shaking inside. “I said, I didn’t take no wallet.” And I said, “I saw you do it.” The second girl says, “Give him the wallet.” And she hands me the stolen wallet. “Now get out of the store and never come back.” They turned as if nothing happened and walked out of the store. I returned the wallet to the woman who had no idea it had been stolen and went into the stockroom to sit down. I was shaking.

A few days later I told someone in security about what had happened and they just looked at me. “Those two girls were arrested in Bloomingdales two days ago…. for stabbing a security guard.” GULP! Now here’s why I went into show business. I was never destined to be a retailer… I’d rather die on stage!

Want to read more stories from the legendary Steve Bluestein?

Check out 49 1/2 Shades of BLUE……stein on Amazon

Also, don’t forget to Check out his first book on Amazon, It’s So Hard to Type With A Gun In My Mouth