Common Sense....What's That?

I'm in a bit of a rant/rage mood at the moment, and I'd like to share a few things.  Just a few ground rules.  I don't know why they aren't common sense, but these have proven necessary to establish.

1. DO NOT TOUCH ME.

2. Don't ask for my number.  You aren't getting it.

3. Do not ask me to get into a fight.  I don't know you, and I don't want to randomly fight you.  Besides, if we did, I bite, scratch, spit, pull hair, and kick for the groin.

4. If your kid says they have to go, take them NOW.

5. If you want to get mad at me to the point of leaving because I don't have your poptarts, oh well.  One less person I have to deal with next time around.

6. Do not ask me to keep your stuff safe for you for more than five minutes without purchasing, or it will be put back, and you will be responsible for getting it all again.

7. Don't hand me a wet discount card and tell me it's "butt sweat."  It's your food I'm touching, so it's really a lose/lose situation.

8. WE HATE THOSE ELECTRONIC CHICKEN THINGS THAT DANCE AND SING.  LEAVE THEM ALONE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

Screw you.

9. I'm not the only one responsible for remembering your discount card, despite what they may say.  If you forget it and act angry at me, "there's nothing I can do."  If you're nice about it and share responsibility, I'll take that hit on my job and tell you how to fix it.

10. I don't mind people with disabilities.  I'm happy to help however I can, even if it's carrying groceries to your car.  But I do NOT appreciate people treating me like I did badly for not taking care of them before helping the sweet old lady.  Get over it, I have priorities.

11. If you see me running more than one machine at the same time (self checkouts), they're randomly breaking and shutting down, and you tell me that you need me to ring up your stuff FOR you when you CHOSE to come to a self-checkout, you go to the bottom of my to-do list.

I'm sorry I'm a little grumpy about these, but most of them seem like common sense.  Just be a little nicer to me, cause I have to be nice to you.  Most of the time.

Problems Within

As a cashier, you get some horrible people coming through your line.  But that's another post.  Today, I'd like to mention a few of the problems plaguing the industry, even to the point of decreased productivity.

1. Bad Bosses

This is true of any workplace, not just in a retail situation. Bad bosses get in the way of productive work, as well as refusing to do much of their own.

At least they seemed to like him.

 I've had bosses of all kinds, having been a cashier for way too long while I work on higher education.  Unfortunately, the boss I had the longest was the worst.  She got fired after the cashiers were privately asked to take a survey and express our opinions of our staff.  Perhaps a corporation of the people can exist.

2. Bad Coworkers

We've all had that coworker.  The gossip.  The texter.  The lazy one.  The complainer.  Hell, you might even BE one of those people.  But without these specific people, the day would run much more smoothly, and things would get done with much less drama.

Sometimes, it feels the same.

3. Those $(%*&# Plastic Bags

The plastic bags that many people are forced to use tend to stick together and come off in chunks, rather than one at a time, either taking a lot of time to separate them or getting thrown away.  We spend so much time fussing over making these bags work and unstick that we really waste a lot of otherwise useful time and energy just standing and pulling bags apart.  Assuming we don't get aggravated and trash them.

Either way, they create a massive amount of waste, whether it be time or material, unlike cloth bags.

4. Those $(%*&# Cloth Bags

Cloth bags are often purchased with the best of intentions, but most of the time, customers forget them.  Or, if they brought them, they bring too few or have a special preference that makes things difficult, and plastic bags still end up being used.  Shockingly enough, they waste more time, more money, and just as many plastic bags as before unless the person using them is really on their toes about grabbing them.

5. Coupons/Advertised Discounts that Just Don't Work

Don't forget the thirty different conditions that go along with it and is only in the teeny tiny print!

Let's get one thing straight: I am a human punching bag for all of the verbal insults that could possibly be hurled at someone.  If I retort, I'm the one who's ass is on the line for it.

This means that it must be a good idea to make sure that any coupons attached directly to items work, or, barring this measure, that at least the ads in the circular work.  Of course not, though.  If that was the way things worked, it'd be way too easy.  Instead, I get yelled at while my overworked supervising staff takes time from their customers and tasks to either override the system or find SOME way of making it all work.  In the end, no one is really happy, and I still have to apologize.*

*I would like to note here that many of my customers have taken these sorts of setbacks with good humor and grace, and they are my heroes.  I'm not a patient person, but I'm always really grateful when they are.

MORAL OF THE STORY:  You, dear and valued customer, aren't the only thing bringing down my day.

We Card

DEAR PEOPLE WHO ARE UNDER 21 IN THE US OF A:

Sorry, underage folks!


The good people of the government have decided that you cannot buy alcohol until you're 21 years of age.

No, not the face...no....aw, hell, just take the damn beer.

I realize and appreciate that you want to have a good time, but when you try to buy items that you are not legally old enough to buy, you shaft other people when they're caught.  This means that we're going to check your ID.  If you're underage, sucks to be you.  Don't screw over your cashier.

Sincerely,
A Cashier

DEAR PEOPLE WHO ARE OVER 21 IN THE US OF A:

Congratulations!

You have made it at least 21 years without killing yourself!  Your reward?  BOOZE.

What a sweet trophy...

Sincerely,

Your Cashier

I've compiled a list of my favorite carded people, over- and underage.
1. It's always a bit of a shocker when I get a prison ID.  Doesn't happen often, and I don't think that's technically acceptable ID.  But at that point, I'm not really interested in saying no anymore.

They've seen things, man...

2. A 15 year old girl bringing in an ID saying she was at least 60, claiming her husband was a plastic surgeon who did good work (She didn't get the alcohol).
3. A woman who cussed me out after I refused to sell her alcohol when she had no ID.  She looked as if she could have been 21, but her two friends weren't, and I wasn't taking chances.  They were all dressed up for a night on the town and were not happy that I wasn't going to sell them alcohol.  During her cursing and ranting, the woman mentioned buying a case of beer there everyday.  If that's the truth, maybe I did her a favor.....
4. A man went to 3 different registers attempting to buy alcohol in a single night.  Not one cashier sold it to him.  Next night?  Same thing.  I haven't seen him since.
5. A woman yelled at me for not carding a person that I've carded many times in the past and practically knew, considering how many times he'd been in the store.  I was polite to her, but what I hope she realizes next time is that unless she's wearing a police badge or a store badge, who I do and do not card is no business of hers.  It's just an attempt to stir up trouble at that point.  She wasn't technically the one getting carded, but eh.  It still makes the list.

It IS their business.

 I'm sure I'll have more delightful folks soon, but these are just my top 5 right now.

MORAL OF THE STORY:

Yeah.

Just a Quick Tip of the Day

Don't ask for our numbers.  You aren't getting them.

When She Says It....

When I was first starting out at my brand new job as a cashier, I had bright ideas about how great it was going to be.  That lasted about 20 minutes.  Within a few days, all concept of this was shot to hell.  This was around the time that a woman came in with her cute little 3 or 4 year old daughter.

You adorable little waste-maker.

The daughter kept telling her mother that she had to go potty, but the mother put the daughter in a buggy seat and left her there for the duration of the trip, telling her daughter to hold it and ignoring pleas for a bathroom break.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

You're good at this game.

Daughter has a nice potty break all over the buggy seat, which drips down onto the groceries and the floor.

Groceries the mother expected me to ring up after she used a paper towel to wipe them down.

Hand sanitizer for all!

Wasn't the best day ever.

MORAL OF THE STORY:  If your child says they have to go to the bathroom, praise your offspring for being well-trained enough to say something and TAKE THEM.

My Hair is Not a Toy.

One of my favorite horror stories actually involves my hair...

Usually at work, I wear a ponytail.  My hair is fairly long, and I actually move around so much that it gets too hot to leave it down for work. 

Leave it alone, asshole.

Doing some cleaning, a, ahem, gentleman comes into the store and starts talking to my manager near where I'm working.

He begins to pet my hair.

Right.

Wrong.

I freeze out of the weirdness of being touched by a stranger and the sheer awkwardness of the situation, hoping he'll stop fairly soon.

Of course he doesn't!  He keeps chatting with my boss, continuing to pet my hair as I try to move away from him.  My oh-so-wonderful manager found the situation to be endearing and slightly amusing, commenting on how nice my hair is while he keeps trying to touch me as I move out of reach.

His reach was almost as if he had Pixar-grade superpowers.

 

 

Snapping at the customer would have cost me my job, cause that's the kind of manager I had.  I just gave up on the task at hand and bailed after a minute and a half of avoiding this guy's reach.

MORAL OF THE STORY:  Don't pet my hair.  As a matter of fact, don't touch your cashiers at all.  Thank you.

Introduction

Hello, World.  This is your lowly cashier speaking.

I keep your world running and keep you in stock of your supplies, but I still get considered an intro/no-skills job.  I am the punching bag for problems I can't solve.  I am patient while you put your attention to your phone and hand me two dollars too little.

Am I disgruntled?  Perhaps slightly, but I believe that everyone has done their "time" in the awful job that is cashiering, unless they happen to be one of the lucky few that are rich enough to get by without.  Maybe it is a first job, maybe it became a career.  Either way, everyone can relate but no one seems to remember.

This is a blog dedicated to the horror stories of my job, and the hundreds of thousands of jobs just like mine.  I will not reveal the location of my workplace, because I like my job slightly more than being homeless.  Readers, feel free to comment with stories of your own.  It's nice to know we're not alone.