Rogue Retail Recruiters

I walked into the fitting room to find Laila standing amongst the multiple racks of disarray. Clothes strewn around the small workspace would’ve shaken any sales advisor, but not this one. Laila was our most senior salesperson in the store at the time. Hired at the beginning of last year’s holiday season – she weathered the Black Friday shoppers, the “merry seasonal folk”, and the bored mall walkers of the new year – Laila handled each situation, exhibiting exemplary customer service.

Her luster began to fade around the 3-week spring break stint. There’s something about gangs of adolescents utilizing a store as their personal closet that doesn’t sit well with most. And watching teenagers dress-up to blatantly leave clothes, that they clearly could NOT afford, piled into mountains in each fitting room was enough to break our sweet Laila. Heaps of Instagram and TikTok content laid at her feet as she swiftly rehung garments and organized racks with accurate precision. The pep could no longer be found in her step, her essence was gone.

I called her name and she dully turned to face me. “Come with me. It’s time for your annual review,” I stated as brightly as possible.

She sluggishly followed behind as we exited the sales floor and traveled the back-of-house through a few doors. “It’s been a year already? She asked halfheartedly. “Seems like way longer,” followed under her breath, low enough that I shouldn’t have been able to hear her. Even if I hadn’t heard her, I could’ve assumed her response. She was miserable here – just like we like ‘em, ripe for the picking.

We already knew that she had been interviewing at other stores, our slight advantage was that our company offered a competitive wage against other clothing stores. Even if she wanted to leave, she couldn’t afford to do so – that realization ingrained itself into the forming frown line across her forehead.

She followed me through sets of doors, robotically at first, and then more cautiously confused. She had never seen this section of the store before – many hadn’t. This was where the true value of RAYGE lay. We sold clothes as a front, when really we invested in the cultivation of villainous beings.

“Long ago, Rampage lost his long-time battle against his nemesis Vindicate – yes the superhero. His loss didn’t come due to lack of athletic ability or suitable gadgets, it was the [need] of manpower to commit these crimes. All of the respectable villains ran a crime syndicate – The Penguin, Lex Luther, Magneto, Thanos - they all had a group of loyal followers who they could use to do their bidding. How could Rampage succeed without the help of other likeminded individuals?” I began to explain.

“Trouble was, everybody wanted to be a hero, it was really hard to advertise and find villain sidekicks. Rampage came up with his master plan. Our founder knew that the only way to cultivate the most evil sidekicks would be to put them through a rigorous program that would fill them with a seething rage for the general public.” I finished as we stopped in front of a metal door with a keypad that required a code for entrance.

I spun around to face Laila to finish up my speech. “That program was RAYGE (Rage), a chain of clothing stores that he employed future members of his syndicate from – the same store in which you are currently employed. Laila, it’s time.”

“Time for what?” She questioned hesitantly.

“Time to make the choice. Do you want to join us?”

She stuttered as she mulled the idea over in her head. She seemed to seriously weigh the options – others willingly signed on without a second thought. Maybe we were wrong, maybe Laila wasn’t ready. But her uncertainty morphed into a sinister grin as her eyes met mind.

“Only if I get to choose my name. Y’all can call me Deception.” Laila evilly hissed, “Where do I sign up?”