Dear XXXX,
My time at Bloomingdales began a short while ago, back in August of 2010. I was new to the city, fresh from Virginia, and lacking any sort of product knowledge or selling experience. Still (amazingly enough) you and XXXX hired me to join the Bloomingdales ready-to-wear team. Did you know that, in fact, when XXXX told me I’d be working in women’s sportswear I thought I’d being selling Nike pants?
Ops.
Throughout the year, I made a few mistake – and S. can testify to that. Yes I might have left a sensor on or forgot to cut off an RFID tag, but generally I learned the ropes. Ask a customer if someone was helping them, set up fitting rooms in French Connection but forget about it on Saturdays in Aqua, smile even when taking back a fraudulent return and then secretly call Loss Prevention from another counter... especially when Burberry is inquired about. Open cards, understand the sales, call your clients - these things I learned. And I can really thank L. and S. for their patience, particularly during my first few months.
I also believe I can appreciate customer service at its basic level; it’s no secret and really quite obvious. The way to please an individual (and when I say individual I’m discussing the normal, civil customer) is through the simple practice of treating someone like a human being. The golden rule could not be applied in a better atmosphere, though many will not treat you with the respect deserved. I suppose I have high standards for my friends (and maybe I’m idealistic about humanity in general) but no matter how often respect fell short from either a customer or an employee, there were also these epic moments where people were just being kind to other people.
And that is certainly something to take note of.
But as the seasons went on, and Christmas returns brutally damaged my checks, I grew antsy to accomplish what I had come up here to do: Observe. Edit. Write. Create.
By April I was burnt out and physically exhausted from my 5 hour-a-night sleeping regime. So during the month of July, when I saw a post for a freelance Editorial Assistant position, I jumped at the opportunity. This is want I wanted – this was why I came to New York City.
Thus, I regret to inform you I must put in my formal two weeks notice. I will not forget the Third Floor Book Club, or the time a crazy woman spit over the balcony. I will not forget the people I worked with, or the opportunity I was given. I will not forget the evil woman who yelled at me over the phone, and then after getting what she wanted, telling me I should be promoted to manager. Most importantly, I will not forget being your “Prim.”
Maybe I’ll come back to Bloomingdales after this opportunity. Maybe the economy will have tanked yet again. I’m not sure. I don’t know what the next day will bring, much less the next few months.
Maybe I’ll come back to Bloomingdales after this opportunity. Maybe the economy will have tanked yet again. I’m not sure. I don’t know what the next day will bring, much less the next few months.
But within that insecurity? That is exactly where I thrive. This is exactly where I want to be.
Thank you again for everything XXXX.
We will certainly stay in touch,
Britney Fitzgerald
July, 20th 2011
**Editor's Note: This is a copy of my resignation letter to Bloomies. Some names have been omitted for anonymity.**