Why Customers Cannot Always Be Right

   What happened to 'The customer is always right?' I had a customer ask me this recently after I was unable to comply with his request. The problem was, however, that he wanted an item that had gone up in price to be charged at the price is was last week, when it was on sale. I had to respectfully decline doing that, then I had to call a supervisor on his insistence, and then after the supervisor had left - after again declining his request - I was treated to a lecture about how I should be able to change the price on a product without needing supervisor permission, which slowly downgraded to just plain out-and-out insults.
   Personally, I can see the reason why cashiers cannot just change prices on merchandise. The store - any store - has to make a profit. They have to make enough money to buy more merchandise, pay employees, pay for things like building rent (or purchase) electricity, advertising, and a whole slew of other things, which include covering the cost of the item being purchased itself. And if cashiers could just change the prices of things of their own free will, well, I'm sorry, but I've worked with the public enough to know that there would be plenty of people abusing that - cashiers and customers alike. Cashiers would be making things as cheap as possible for friends and family, and customers would be demanding 2 cent products, or even free. I'm sorry, but if you don't think that is true, then you have NOT worked in retail. And as much as you may hate the fact, the company you are buying from does need to make a profit to keep on running a business. They can't if all their employees and customers and running amok with the prices - rules are often made for a reason.
   Then there can be the heaps of abuse that can be smothered on the people who work in places such as mine. I've had a woman tell me, "Shouldn't you let a teenager do this job?" Seriously? My company has a policy that cashiers need to be eighteen or older to run the register. Or they used to; it's been seven years since I started working there, and I don't tend to run around asking people their ages. When I was hired on at my company, however, they required cashiers to be eighteen or older and to have a high school diploma or a GED.
   But even if that were not the case, if you are going up to someone - anyone - and saying garbage like this, then you are wrong; customer or not. It is never okay to be an asshole and this type of comment is assholery at it's finest. Not that anyone needs to know my business, but this job is how I support myself and my daughter, and no, I am not ashamed of this. I refuse to be ashamed. But whether you think I should be or not, you still have no right to come up to a stranger and start trying to force your life views on said person. No one likes that, not even the people who do it.
    Common decency and commonsense need to be the keys to dealing with everything, and this does not change when you go into your local grocery store. Just because you are the customer, that does not give you the inherent right to become a giant ass-hat. Asking us to do things that are against company policy can get us fired, and that makes you wrong. No cliche saying changes this. You are wrong. Also, being a jerk is not a right either. Everyone deserves common courtesy. And saying that 'I chose to become a cashier' also does not justify being an asshole to me while I am working. It's not okay.
   The point of the matter is just this: no matter what we do, we are all people, and we deserve respect. Everything would go a lot more smoothly if all of us remember this fact. And you can't be right when you are doing things that will get other people into trouble (like getting them fired) or being rude, at least, you can't when you're coming through my line. Which may be one of the reasons that my store doesn't hire teenagers to run the registers; an adult with life and work experience can be much harder to push around then a kid who's working their first job and has only high school experience.  

The Trials Of A Self Check Attendant

7 a.m. Two out of six machines are down. CRAP. Two out of six machines, and it's Sunday. Shoot me now.  Take the few moments of boredom and no lines to clean the 4 working self check stations. No sir, that one's down, there an out-of-order sign right on it. Use this one.

7:30 a.m.: Dry ice. Dry ice. It's okay, it's not busy yet. I can handle the combination locked - don't touch it with your bare hands or you'll burn yourself, I'm wearing gloves for a reason here, please, hands out- dry ice. Yes, I know you need help too, person on the other machine. As soon as I'm done with this dry ice, I'll be there.

8:30 a.m. One of the machines is out of every type of coin we have. Fill it before lines get crazy. Unlock three people's machines while filling out the coin order slip. No - self check does not do money orders. No, I can't ring up your order for you; we have regular checkstands for that. No, you can't buy that seedless whole watermelon for the price of a personal watermelon. No. No. No. No. Coin order slip filled. Dry ice. No, I can't ring up your order for you. Customer service is open now, you can get a money order there. Coin order delivered to self check, start filling machine. Instant line. These people can smell when I'm filling money, I swear, and of course, now there is only 3 working self check stations while I am working on the one. Yes, I can approve your beer. Yes, I can unlock your station. Yes, I can tell you how to do that. (Shit, I have to fill this money so I can get this back open.) SHIT! Gotta fill this money. DRY ICE!!!! Please, God, no. I mean, sure, I can get that for you. (Why is the self check in charge of the damned dry ice?!?!)

Thumped on the shoulder while getting dry ice. WHY are you touching me? I will be there as soon as I'm done with this customer. Why is your station not letting you scan? Have you bagged the last item you scanned? No, you took all the bags off the bagging station? Well, that'll do it. 

9:00 a.m. Thank God for my break. 

9:15 a.m. Back to work. No I can't ring your order for you. No, you have to go to customer service to get a refund. No, it's around 15 items allowed. You have a full cart. You can't scan? Took all the bags off the bagging station? That'll do it. No, those aren't onions. Those are peaches. They cost more. 

9:30 a.m. What's with the dry ice? 4 bags? No, it's .98 a pound, not .98 each. No, it comes in about a 10 lb bag, give or take. No, I can't cut exactly a pound. Yes, I can break off a piece, no I can't make it exactly a 1 pound piece. Why? They didn't give me any way to do that. I throw it on the floor to break it, open it up, and give you a piece. No, don't stick your hands in. Dry ice will burn you; I'm wearing gloves.  No, I can't ring your order up. Why in God's name are people writing checks here? Do that with a regular cashier. No, the machine can't take your check. I'll have to suspend your order, take you to my podium, and pull your order back up so I can take your check. Yes, if you have debit, please use it. No, I can't access your pin. No, I can't see what you type. I'm not looking. Yes, I can get you dry ice. (Damn shitting-ass dry ice. Why can't they at least give us a key lock? Stupid combination's a pain in the ass.)

10 a.m. Lines. Shit. Lines. Only 4 machines. God, everyone needs to be unlocked. STOP TAKING YOUR GROCERIES OFF OF THE BAGGING STATION. If they don't fit, you have too many. The sign right-freaking-there clearing says: About 15 items. 50 is too many. No, I can't refund that. Customer service is right that way, they can fix that for you. No, I don't know what's wrong with the coffee machine. Or the coke machine. The Redbox is outside. No, that's not peanuts sir, those are cashews. What's the difference, you ask? Cashews cost more. When you ring one item up on a station, and you move to another station, sir, I have to close down the first station until I can get a supervisor over here to approve the voided order. Oh, it wouldn't scan anymore? Did you bag the first item you scanned? No? That'll do it. 

10:30 a.m. Effing dry ice. What do you mean, you just wanted to look at it? It's dry ice, not the Sistine Chapel. No, I can't do a money order. No, you can't take your bags off of the bagging station; it locks the station up. Yes, you still have to give your ID for alcohol. Doesn't matter if it's self check, you still get carded. Yes, I really need your ID. NICE TRY 20 YEAR OLD ASSHOLE. No beer for you. DRY ICE?!?! Are you gonna buy some, or are you just taking a tour?

11 a.m. Thank you, LORD! It's lunch time. I'm leaving. I'm leaving. I wanna see my daughter. Why? She won't ask me for dry ice, that's why. 

11:30 a.m. *whimpering* I'm back. It's okay. It's okay. No, I can't refund that, customer service is right down there, they can take care of that for you. No, I don't know what's wrong with the coffee machine. No, you can't take your bags off of the bagging station until you've paid. I just told you not to do that. Yeah, it's locked. Holy crap, stop touching me, people. I can see you, but there's only one of me. I'll be there as soon as I finish with the current customer. No, that's Dasani water. Store brand is cheaper. It has to be redone. No, you put two items in that bag and only scanned one. Yes, that does lock the system. The bagging station is a scale; it knows when you put too much weight on there. The Redbox is outside. Your kid can't sit on the bagging station, sir. Yeah, it's locking up because your kid is on the bagging station. Holy crap, dry ice? WHY?

12 p.m. Please, please leave all your bags on the bagging station until you are done. No, I can't ring up that order for you, we have several checkers, however, that will be happy to do that for you. What do you mean, I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING. You can't ring up those bulk Jelly Bellies as assorted wrapped candies, sir. No, they aren't the same price. Highest priced candy rung as lowest price candy does not make my boss happy. Fine, if you don't want it anymore, I'll take it. No, please don't touch me. I'm see you, don't touch me. I was voiding items off of an order, as soon as I finished I was coming. I did say, "I'll be there in a minute." No, I can't ring your order for you. Yes, I can tell you how to ring your produce on your own. No, those aren't regular bananas, those are plantains. They cost more, yes, but they are still plantains. Ma'am, your kid can't sit on the bagging station. She's not hurting anything? Is your machine locked? Yes? That's because your kid is sitting on the bagging station, which is a scale. 

12:30 p.m. Return of the dry ice. Oh, you were just looking? When I have a line wrapped around the front of the store and only 4 working self check stations? Sure, why not. No, I can't do refunds. Redbox is outside. Yay! The coffee guy is here to fix the coffee machine! No, I can't ring your order. No, that's way too many items. Oh, your gonna ring them all up anyway. Yes, I enjoyed unlocking your machine over and over and over again because you had too many items. It was awesome. Seriously? You're coming to self check with a coinstar slip? OH HOLY SHIT! I have to chase the lady with the unpaid $57 order into the parking lot, because she DIDN'T PAY. Bring her back in to pay, then deal with two customers who accuse me of running out of the store because ' I didn't want to do my job', get price check on 24 piece deli chicken. No, you can't take the bags off of the bagging station until you are done. Customer service is that way. Yes, I can approve your alcohol; yes, I need to see your ID first. 

1p.m. Get price check on coffee creamer. Price is wrong; fix price for customer. Customer demands to know what will be done to punish the person who put in the price wrong. Demands name. Gets mad when I won't give a name (honestly, I don't know how pricing works, so I don't know what to tell him anyway). Looks pointedly at my name badge. "I'll see you, Marie." Ummm, okay. I'll be here. Dry ice, of course. Please, ma'am, don't get my attention by grabbing my shoulder. No touch-y no feel-y, please. Lines. Chaos. Locked self check stations as far as the eye can see. No, I can't ring your order at my podium. I know all the self check stations are full, but I still can't ring your order here. Tell a woman I can't process a return at self check, and point customer service out to her only to have her scream, "But that's what I'm asking you to do!" and storm off in a fit of rage. No time to process that, I have machines to unlock. Please, leave your bags on the bagging stations. Please, ring up your items before you put them IN the bagging station. Please, that's a cabbage, not a lettuce. No, that cabbage didn't weight .2 lbs. I have to redo it. 

1:30 p.m. Last break. Almost there. Almost there. 

1:45 p.m. Coin accepter is jammed. It'll be just one minute ma'am. It's gotta work the stuck coins out. Unlock two machines, check on jammed machine. Oh look, it's still jammed. Yay. Unlock another machine. Coin accepter is no longer jammed. Yay, now you can stop glaring at me and pay. I wanna go home. Yes, I can give you change. No, I can't ring your order up for you. No, you can't put the bags into your cart until you are done. 

2:00 p.m. Why is everything flashing at me? Leg cramp! Leg cramp! Yes, I can limp over there and unlock your machine. Yes, I can approve your beer. Sorry, your card declined, and I have to get a supervisor to put in a code. Oh, you don't want it anymore? I'm sorry. No, I'm sorry, I have to get a supervisor to cancel this order, it's still unavailable. That one is out-of-order, sorry, you can't use it. No, you can't use it. No, it's not working. Yes, I know there is a line. It's still broken though. Dry ice? Sure, why not? Yeah, I would love to not have a combination lock on this cooler. NO, don't stick your hand in there, it'll burn you. Yes, I can unlock your machine. 

2:30 p.m. Unlock. Unlock. Unlock. Unlock. Approve beer. Approve beer. Approve beer. It's all a blur. Customer service; down there. Redbox: outside. Leg cramp!!! Leg cramp!!!! Unlock. Unlock. Unlock. Yes, the coffee machine has been fixed now. That self check machine is out of order. It's out of order. No, it's broke. Yes, I know there is a line. I don't know how to fix it. No, I don't know how to fix it. 

3 p.m. Almost there. Almost there. Stupid damn leg. What the hell? Unlocking everything. Please, don't move your bags until you are done. Don't touch me. Blur, blur, it's all a blur.

3:30 p.m. Off the clock! Off the clock!! Dry ice! NO! I'm off the clock. Sorry. She'll help you! FREE, AT LAST!!!!

Stop Being A Ninny And Show Your ID Already

   Recently, I had a major issue with a girl and a guy. Well, the issue was more with the girl than with the guy, but they were together, so for better or worse, they will remain forever linked in my mind. They were buying alcohol, and, of course, I carded them. I carded both of them, because they were a couple, buying alcohol together.
   Of all the things that you may see in a grocery store that would be shocking, getting carded for buying alcohol should never be on that list. Seeing a man leave a trail of piss is shocking. Seeing two grown-ass women get into some high-school drama fistfight over a guy is shocking. Watching a woman scream at the security cameras and then bend over, wave her ass in the air, and scream that security can kiss her ass is shocking. Having a guy pimp girls out of his van in the parking lot is shocking. I have seen all of these things, and could continue this list, but a cashier asking for an ID is not shocking, nor is it offensive.
   Even if you are a gray-haired grandma, you may need to whip that sucker out, because some stores have policies that every single person gets carded. The cashier has to follow policy, because not following policy can cost her/him their job. The legal consequences aren't so great either. Here in Washington, it's a $2,000 dollar fine, if the person you didn't card is part of a sting, and you get busted by the police, or that minor gets busted with a receipt that has your name as the cashier printed on it. That is harsh even if you have a job, but you just lost that job, and you owe $2,000. Washington's consequences are mild though, compared to other state's. When I worked in Florida, the results of selling to a minor and/or getting busted by a sting was getting arrested on the spot. They cuffed you right there, in the store, and on top of the fine, you got to spend a night in jail, no bail. In Florida, I carded everybody, and I didn't care if they were freaking ninety. Additionally, the store can also lose their liquor license, which is a huge loss in sales, and which also means that every single customer now has to go elsewhere to buy their beer/wine/hard liquor.

   But these people that I carded recently, of which this post is really about, were not ninety. The girl, who threw such a fit over being carded; mumbling obscenities, shaking her head, glaring, and eventually storming off in a fit of rage, was barely legal. She was born in freaking '91. Her boyfriend was a little older, but he was '89, so we are talking young, wet-behind-the-ears, almost children here. We aren't talking about a ninety year old woman, we are talking an almost child, who needs to go back to her mother and ask for a review on how to behave in public; that's what we are talking about.
   I'm thirty-two; I get carded every single time I buy alcohol. I've been carded as I've walked into a casino. Hell, I've even been carded when I bought a maturely rated video game. I don't get pissy at people who are just doing their jobs, and carding people is a part of their jobs, in every single case. Everybody needs to understand that getting carded is just something that has to happen, and everybody needs to not act like an asshat when they get carded. Getting carded is not the end of the world; nothing bad will happen to you if you have to pull out your ID. You won't get attacked by zombies. Missiles will not strike the spot on which you are standing. You won't catch Stephen King's super flu. A rampaging lunatic is not going to suddenly show up and shoot you five times in the chest. You won't get raptured (or left behind. No rapture, period.)
None of these terrible, horrifying things will happen. Your cashier will simply type your birthday into the computer; the process is that simple, and if you don't make a fuss, the process is that fast.
   I don't find someone possibly thinking that I am younger than I really am an insult in any case. Tell me that I look young all day long, if you want to. But regardless, if I had my way, every single person who complained about being carded would get charged double for whatever they are buying, unless they were born in the '90s, in which case, they would get charged triple. Guess everybody better be glad that I am not in charge. 

Those Who Steal...

   I'm feeling rather relieved at this moment, having just learned that my cash drawer (till) is not unbalanced. Is my till usually unbalanced? I hope not; if it is, no one is telling me, but I don't think so. That would typically be something that your boss would come and talk to you about, especially when taking money is one of the main duties of your job.
  So why was I worried? Well, I was hit up by a short-change artist. A short-change artist, for those of you who do not know, is someone who comes along, buys something from a cashier, and then attempts to really confuse them and distract them, in order to get more money back. While I cannot remember exactly the entire conversation, I am going to recreate the conversation that we had, and while you read this, I want you to also keep in mind the speed of the conversation; while you can read this at whatever pace you want, this entire conversation took less than five minutes.
   The short-change artist had just bought a travel size foot powder, that cost less than a dollar, and had paid with a fifty. I was counting out her change when she said, "Can I have one of those dollars in quarters?"
   "Sure," I replied, and took back a dollar, putting four quarters on the stack of change (I lay the change out on the counter as I count, so that the customer can watch.)
   "What are you doing? I'll give you a dollar in a minute, one thing at a time, one thing at a time," the customer said, so confused, but going with the flow, I took back the quarters and put the dollar bill back. She picks up the money, looks at it, and in a shocked voice, says, "What did I give you? A fifty?"
   "Yes ma'am, you gave me a fifty."
   "Oh no, take this back, I need that fifty, I think I had a phone number on it."
   So I take the change back, and get out a fifty. "There isn't a phone number on this bill." I say as I hand the bill to her. "That's fine, that's fine, I want to give you another fifty and get a hundred from you."
  "I need another dollar, this is just $49," I say, because she just gave me back the change bills (two twenties, a five, and four ones), and I had given her the fifty.
   "Sure, sure," she says and gives me another dollar, and then gives me the fifty dollar bill that I had just handed her, "And I am going to give you this as well, so that I can get a hundred dollar bill."
   "Wait," I say, "that's not right..."
   "Yeah it is, I gave you that fifty, and now I am giving you this fifty, and I want a single bill back."
   "But this fifty is the one I exchanged for you."
   "No, that fifty is in your drawer, remember, I wrote a number on it. This fifty is different, it doesn't have a number; I wouldn't lie to you."
   "But you have to give me two fifties to get a hundred back," I say handing her back the fifty, and keeping the fifty dollars worth of change in my hand.
  "No, I gave you that fifty in change that you are holding. This fifty makes one hundred." And she puts the bill on the counter and pushes it towards me.
  "Nooooo," I say slowly, because I am starting to get confused, this conversation is happening really fast, and I also have other customers in line calling out things like, "Just give her the money already!" So I am confused, but I hold on to the fifty in change, and push the single bill back to her.
   "No, you used a fifty to pay for your foot powder, and then wanted it back, so we exchanged, you didn't give me a fifty."
  "No, look," the lady says, and points to my till, which was still open (foolishly), "You have a fifty in your till. That's the one I gave you for the powder."
  "Noooo," I draw out again, because I am trying to think. "You used this to pay for your powder." And I kinda wave the fifty in change that I am holding.
   She takes out another dollar, lays it on the counter and says, "Look, this can be for the powder. Now take that fifty you're holding that I gave you, and take this fifty, and give me a hundred. I have given you two fifties."
 At this point, I say what I should have said in the first place, "Hold on, I need to call a Lead." And after I say this, the woman takes the fifty she was trying to hand me, says never mind, and walks out of the door. I tell the lead clerk (shift supervisor type position) what happened, and she takes the receipt, which I still have, to give to the manager. Because our store has security, they are able to watch the whole exchange on the cameras, and having the receipt makes this easier, because the receipt is time-stamped, so they know exactly when to look. But there was so much money pushed back-and-forth between us that security can't tell if she got extra money or not, which is a very, very nerve wracking thing to hear. When you are a cashier, and you hear that, you think, "Holy. Shit." And then you worry, because you know you made mistakes. I kept my drawer open the entire time, when I should have slammed the thing shut. Also, we were passing bills back and forth, and all in just a short period of time; during certain points of this bill passing, I was distracted by other customers who thought I should have just giving her the hundred, and were being vocal about it. Also, I should have called the Lead as soon as this started. I am not a newbie, all of these things are things that I know, so I was kicking myself for not following procedures that are designed to prevent this type of problem. I was fairly sure that I had not given her extra money, but there was a smaller part of me that was completely sure that I did, or else I kept HER money, which is something that I equally don't want to do.
   This woman knew what she was doing. 'One thing at a time' is a saying we have when we are dealing with issues like this. We do one thing at a time, fulfill one request at a time, so that we don't get mixed up and confused. It's a method taught to us in training, and her saying that at the beginning of the transaction was a way of throwing me off guard; short-change artists get you to give them extra money often by overloading you with requests so that you mess us and can't remember what you were doing, which makes it easier for them to get extra money  off of you, so with this woman saying 'one thing at a time' it seemed like she was trying to help me out. Then the supposed number on the bill was a distraction, something that would get stuck in my head so that later, she could bring it up and hopefully get me to say, "Oh yeah, there was a number." Because this was not a slow, careful conversation, this was rushed and hectic, and if that number rang a bell to me, I might have gone with it and been like, oh yeah, you did give me that, even though she didn't. In fact, one of the saving graces was that while the bill I handed back to her did not have a number, it did have a star drawn on it, and so when  I saw that same star on the bill when she tried to give it back, I remembered that this was the fifty we had traded for, and that we were even. If she had given me that fifty, and I had given her the hundred like she wanted, my till would have been fifty dollars short. But, in spite of my recognition of the bill that she was trying to hand me back, I was still a little nervous about what had happened. Honestly, this is a condensed version of the conversation, as I said, I can remember the gist, and some of the key points, but I can't entirely recall word for word, and we went back and forth a little more than I felt like typing, but all of that back and forth really confused me, which was the point after all. She wanted me confused, but I had a death grip on that fifty in change; I wasn't giving that up.
   So how did we find out that I hadn't given her extra change? Well, I had to wait for the till to be counted down, and that is how we found out I did not give her money that I shouldn't have, nor did I take money that I shouldn't have, because my till balanced out. Can you say relief? Huge relief. I deserve a cookie and a pat on the head.

      ((**NOTE** Later that same day, I found that the same lady had tried this with two other cashiers, but they followed procedures, and she didn't get anywhere with them. I was the only one, unfortunately for my nerves, yet fortunately for the store, that she had managed to get that far with. She was easily described and recognized, because she was walking around with a half-smoked, crumpled cigarette hanging out of her mouth.))

Issues With Self Check -- Why Machines Can't Replace People

   "Can you do this for me? Can you ring this up?" This is the most common question that I get asked when I am working the self check station at my work. Despite the fact that the sign clearly states Self Check, there will undoubtedly be someone who wants to cut the lines, but not do the work. Another thing that will undoubtedly happen? Someone with a full cart load of groceries will attempt to come through the self check area, despite the fact that the sign above the lanes clearly states "About 15 items." $300 dollars worth of groceries being rang up on machines that are only programmed to deal with small orders is never a good thing, but one thing that working with the public has taught me is this: people can't read. Can't, won't, same difference, and all this not reading and $300 orders boils down to one fact: the self check attendant is going to have to spend an ungodly amount of time trying to get the machine that is going bat-shit to calm down. Some of our attendants are better at this than others; myself, I am no machine whisperer: be prepared to wait.
   Which brings me to today's issue. Will self check ever replace human cashiers? I am sure that there are companies that are more than willing to attempt this replacement, after all, machines aren't going to cry for a living wage. Machines don't care about being fairly compensated for the work that they do, nor do they care about benefits such as sick pay, retirement, and health insurance. I suppose that might look good to some companies. Maybe even all companies.
   Yet as a person who has had to sit attendant on these machines, I promise you - this is a bad deal. Machines are only as smart as the people using them. So while there are some people who can get themselves in and out with no issues, there are (at the very least) an equal amount of people who manage to screw everything the hell up, so that the attendant has to come over and try his/her best to figure out what the hell that person was doing in order to fix the problem. And I have come across some insanely stupid mistakes. Mistakes so stupid that we've just had to cancel the entire thing, and I've had to take them to a checker. Machines do not understand people, so when you do something that makes absolutely no sense what-so-ever, the machines isn't going to go, "Oh! You're trying to do this! Let me fix that for you." You know what you need for that type of comprehension? A person.
   Another things that machines can't really handle? Theft. Oh, those machines have a few safeguards built in. They can detect if someone is putting more weight in the bagging area than equals the weight of items scanned, but the machine can't see if you have left things in the cart or basket. The machine can't see that you are using the wrong Product Look-Up codes (PLUs). That is one of the many reasons that there is a bored little attendant sitting at her own screen, watching everything you do, which all pops up on the master screen in front of her. You would also be surprised, while we are talking illicit goings-ons, about how many kids think that they can go buy alcohol through the self check lanes. Never fails, "You still card me in self check?" Yes, yes we do.
   And while you don't have to pay a self check machine sick pay, I assure you that machines do break down; they break down a lot. They break down when people attempt to use them like coin stars, jamming coins in faster than the machines can handle, they break down when someone's little girl decides that dancing on the bagging area (which is a computerized scale system) is a good idea, they break down when there is a glitch in the programming, they break down for no fathomable reason at all, and while you don't have to pay these broken hunks of metal, chips, and wires sick pay, you do have to pay someone to come fix them. That's not really a money saver, there.
   I am not saying that self check is a completely terrible idea. Our store is crowded; we always have lines. In our store, self check is used as a glorified express lane (about 15 items please) and I can see that this has helped. When I am working the checkstands, there are a lot less people complaining about the lines because the ones that used to do that were usually the ones with three items, having to wait behind someone with two full carts. We get all manner of complicated orders as well, WIC, tax exempt, extremely large orders for day cares and assisted living homes, and I can see a person with three items not wanting to stand behind this. Self check, in our store, has alleviated some of this, but what I am saying is this: machines are not yet capable of replacing an actual person. Personally, I have my doubts that they will ever be, but if they do, that will be a sad, sad day. I don't understand people wishing to render other people obsolete. But regardless, all I know is this, next time you are smirking at a person who is asking for a fair wage, thinking that they will be replaced by machines, just remember, if that day ever comes, you are going to be spending a long, long time standing in line behind all the WIC orders, all the three cart orders, all the tax exempt, all the people who don't mix well with technology. I've worked these machines, and I know that these machines cannot handle many of the orders that I still take in a checkstand. 

Things You Shouldn't Do To Your Cashier -- Part 4

   Oh the fun we have, us cashiers. We get a bad rap sometimes, and that is what these lists are for: to set the record straight. I've said before, and I will say again, I am not a customer-hating sales clerk from Hell sent to make your shopping experience as miserable as possible. If nothing else, if I were totally self-serving, that would be bad for the hours. But despite all my retail experience, I still like people. So when the line is moving slow, these are some of the things that hold us up. If we seem unhappy, these are some of the troubles that come with the job. That's all these lists are for; setting the record straight. So again, here's a list of things that should not be done if you want to have a smooth, trouble-free shopping experience. Or if you want to help me in my never-ending quest to continue to like people.

• Confidential Information Folks -- I don't give it out: I know you are thinking info about the other cashiers, and that is true as well. I am not gonna give out any detail about them or their life or their work schedules. But I am also talking about other customers. Namely their method of payment. I am not telling you if the person in front of you used food stamps. That is private. And if you saw the card and know, I am not going to talk about it with you. It's rude, judgmental, and if the tables where turned, you wouldn't like me chatting up another customer about your private financial matters. 
• I Am Not The Bank: Cash back; it can be an issue. I would love to give you fifty ones, but I can't. I don't have enough in my drawer and I have to be able to serve the customers behind you. We are supposed to give our supervisors at least fifteen minutes notice of money needs because they are doing 5,000 things at once, and cannot just drop everything to take our cash order. If things are running smoothly, I can take at least three big order customers in that fifteen minutes -- probably more. I need change in order to make change. Makes sense, right?
• My Eyes Are Not A Debit Card Reader: I can't look at your card and tell you the balance. Yes, people do this. If you have food stamps, you have to run your card and put in your pin. If you have debit, you have to go to an ATM, the bank won't let us check that. Seems that they think your financial information should be private. Banks are funny like that. 
• Alcohol: Don't buy alcohol and then go drink it in our public restroom. Why would you do this? Why?!?!
• I Don't Need Help: When I am scanning items, I don't need you to push more items onto the scanner. This really messes things up. Usually things get double scanned and then I have to void. If I am weighing produce and bulk and you push something heavy on there, you end up paying a lot more for that weighted item unless I void it all and redo. If I void to many times, my register locks up and I have to get a supervisor key. Which means that you and every person behind you has to wait even longer. Hope you aren't in a rush. 
• Babies Cry: What the heck am I supposed to do about it? 
• Don't Give Your Kid A Toy And Then Make Me Take It Away!!!: What is wrong with you? I am not your kids' authority figure. I am my sister's kids' authority figure, but not yours. I don't even know you, and I feel like scum. That poor kid got his/her hopes all up because you handed them a toy and then you make me take it away? And now your kid is all crying and looking at me like I am a DEMON FROM HELL. Thanks for that. 
• You're Not Smiling Big Enough: If that's all you have to complain about, you have it good. Be happy.
• Code All Bulk Food Products: You want to know a secret? I don't know white rice from jasmine rice, but one is more expensive. Please code that stuff. Bulk food sections in every store that I have ever been in, working or shopping, provide pens for that very reason. And searching for the code in my register computer; that takes forever. We have multiple pages lists, and things are not always in the spot you would expect. Unless you want to wait while I look... And wait, and wait, and wait. 

   And in case you missed the first three lists, here are the links to them: List 1  List 2   List 3

This now concludes today's list of things you shouldn't do to your cashier.

6 x 6 = 25???

   As a cashier, I know that counting every single item that you have is frustrating. You told me you have 25 packs of kool-aid, and here I am, still counting. Can't I take you at your word? Let me tell you a story.
   Summer is when this happy little story takes place, high summer, BBQ weather. Corn selling at 25 cents an ear. Great price, and people can by corn in huge quantities. Boxes of corn that I have to get placed upon my overloaded belt so that I can dig around, get those strange little corn-strings scattered all over the place, especially my apron, and spend the rest of the day feeling super-duper grimy and itchy. I hate corn season. Love to eat corn; hate to sell it. I was wondering myself why I was counting all these corns and not just taking a customer at their word. I mean, usually when a person tells you they have 50 of something, that is actually what they do have, and I just look like a jackass when I count it all out.
   Then I had the customer. It's his turn at the belt and he looks at me, and without taking a single thing out of his cart, he tells me, "I have 6 bags with 6 corn in each. I have 25 corn."
    What? Not a math whiz here, but I don't think that's right.
     "I need to count your corn, sir," I tell him, and shit, even I know that my tone is a liiiiiittle bit pissy. But, I mean, come on, if you are going to scam me, at least try to be credible. I'm not dumb, regardless of what you have been trained into thinking about cashiers.
      He hands me one bag. There is nothing else in his cart but corn, the bottom is completely covered with produce bags stuffed with ears of corn meaning there is no way he only has 25, and he doesn't know his multiplication tables, but he expects to get away with just handing me one bag of his corn. Which, by the way, has more than 6 ears in it.
   "I need all the corn on the belt, sir," and now I sound super-pissy, but if the bossman gets called because of my attitude, I'm hoping he understands my situation.
   He doesn't ask for the boss, but doesn't put his corn up either. "I told you how many I have!"
   "Need them all, sir. 6 times 6 doesn't equal 25, and also, there are more than 6 in this bag."
   Oh yeah, I'm not in a good mood anymore. He still won't put the corn up, so I stalk around, slam his corn on the belt, go back behind the checkstand and start counting. Well, he has a lot more than 25. Closer to 100. Not quite, but closer. I don't know how you are going to manage to eat 100 ears of corn before they go bad, but whatever, it's your money. But if your going to lie about quantity, giving me a number so far off that you can tell just by sight that it's wrong is really dumb. Even if, for some reason, I didn't know that 6 x 6 is 36, I would know that something was up just from sight. He paid for them,  because considering that this was obviously not a mistake in counting, I didn't even ask if he wanted me to take some off and put them away. And he has never been back in my line. Scamming some other checker, no doubt. Not me.
   Unfortunately, this tale is the reason why we have to count quantity. Most customers are not lying, and sometimes there are honest mistakes, true. But there is always that jackass: the one who ruins things for everybody else. 

Watering The Plastic Plants

   In Florida, while I doing the working mom thing there, I had the chance to work in the floral department. The flower lady's previous assistant had moved on, Valentine's Day was coming, and she needed some extra help. I jumped on the chance, anything to get out from behind the checkstand, and working floral sounded neat, a chance to be creative or something along those lines.

   She really liked me during Valentine's, and so I became a permanent assistant. Well, after all the Valentin'es rush is over, floral became more of 'let's water the live plants.' I never realized how much I sucked at watering plants before this time. The lady  I worked for had a knack; she could tell if a plant was watered enough by how heavy it was. She never messed up, but she was never able to pass this talent off to me. I tried this, and somehow I always ended up with huge puddles underneath the pots. I don't know why, but whenever I watered, there never failed to be puddles. It was a mystery. 

   Still, I kept being her assistant, and I covered for her when she went on vacation or had a day off. They just started keeping a towel at the floral counter for me so I could clean up my mess. And during one of these vacation periods, I was happily over-watering all the plants that we had out. There were about six plants that  I had never seen before, little tree-type plants, but we were always getting new stuff in and I figured they had just come in and the produce manager had put them out for me. He was often doing things like that for us; he was a pretty great guy. 

   So I was happily drowning this plant when along comes the variety manager and he just has this dumb-founded look on his face, and he demanded to know why I am watering the plants. 

  "Ummm, because I'm supposed too?"

   "You didn't notice the staples?"

    Staples?! Closer inspection of the plant did reveal that there are actually staples in the thing. Okay, that was new, and why would anybody put staples in a plant? So I sitting there scratching my head, trying to figure what is up with this stupid plant, and the variety manager is dragging all the little tree plants away.

   "I'm moving my plants before you ruin them all," he tells me. Yeah, because generally, you don't water fake plants. We all have our 'not the sharpest tool in the shed' moments, and so here's on of mine. To the end of my days at that store, I was known as the girl who watered the fake plants, and considered a menace with the watering can. 

   My floral manager, however, was actually pretty happy about the whole thing. Turns out she hadn't wanted the fake plants there, stealing sales from her real, live product, but was outvoted; she laughed so hard she turned purple. In my defense, I can say I wasn't expecting a bunch of fake plants to be mixed in with the live ones. I was supposed to water all of our product that day.

 Lesson learned; keep your eyes out for staples. 

Things You Shouldn't Do To Your Cashier

   Everybody likes lists. I'm the most unorganized person ever, and I still love lists. I don't know why; I rarely ever follow lists -- unless it's a To Read list. (Books!!!!) And if it's a banned book list, even better - I will read every single book on the list. But this is not that type of a list. This is a list of things that you should not do to your cashier. We're people too, and we don't like being treated badly anymore than the next person. And a mean, rude customer just makes being nice to the next customer that much harder. So here's my list. Mostly the majority of you are going to read this and just think "Who would do that anyway?" But unfortunately, all these things are on this list because I have experienced them. (They are not in any real order.)

• No TMI (too much information): Yes, we ask how you are doing or how was your day, and I'm not saying don't answer. I'm not even saying don't tell me something about your life. What I am saying is don't tell me that it's been 6 months since the last time you got laid, or that your hemorrhiods are itching so badly that you want to scrape your ass across the floor like a dog. Ew. Why do I want to know this? Nobody wants to know this.
• Complain About Checking Speed: We go as fast as we can. Sometimes we are  not as fast as Cheetara (Thundercats, hoooooooo!!!!) but our efficiency is measured. They have programs that measure all that, and though I do not work at Thundercat speeds, I am always above what I need to be, yet I still get that customer that complains that I am slow. And don't complain that I am going to fast. We are required to go at at least the minimum speed and there is a minimum sales that we are required to at least hit, if not do better than. They really do have programming that measures all that. And I've had complaints both ways. What's a checker to do? What makes the bossman happy, that's what.
• Wait For the Person In Front of You Before You Start Loading!!: I absolutely hate when people start slamming their groceries down on the belt before the people in front of them are done unloading their cart. It is rude. Where are they supposed to put their groceries if you take all the room? And if the person in front of you has a short temper? Well, don't look at me, line-cutter. I'm just here to check. Mediation is not in my job description, plus, I'm not on your side on this one.
• Check Writing, Don't Get Mad: We are required to check your ID. Each and every time. Some stores have a system or something that keeps regular customer's info on file. Ours doesn't, and the only people who are kept on a file in the system are the ones who have written bad checks. Now, do you really want to convince me that you are in our system? Each store has it's own set of policies, so don't assume that because one store does things one way, that a different store will be the same. If you really don't want to whip out that ID, use your debit card or pay with cash. There are options. 
• IDs Again. What Is It About IDs That Rile People So Much? We need to card you if you are buying alcohol. Do you know the consequences of selling to a minor? Or not carding a person conducting a sting? Harsh. I need my job, and I can't afford to pay 2,000 dollar fines -- Washington's consequences When I worked in Florida, you got an automatic night in jail -- no bail. YIKES!!! (Plus, I don't want to sell to minors!) And if I don't card you? You obviously aren't under 21. There are very attractive people over the ages of 50, so it isn't a snub to your looks. But when you waste time griping me out for not carding you? The only thing I am thinking is "Really, Methuselah!?" Rude, I know, but in my defense, I was pushed to it, and I don't actually say it.
• Don't Tell Me I Don't Have A Real Job: This happens, and it's crazy rude. I say, "How are you?" Customer says, "Tired, but I have a real job." Or some variation thereof. This has happened to both myself and many of my coworkers. What exactly is wrong with my job? Checking is honest work. Not rocket science, but how many of you are actually rocket scientists? Don't judge me. I do what it takes to support my family, and being a cashier is not disgraceful. At any rate, I have never been so insecure about my work that I had to go try and make other people feel like shit about their jobs. 

Oh, I could go on, and on, and on, but I won't. I don't want to sound like all customers are bad. Most customers aren't, and there are certainly the great ones, that I love to see: my cherished regulars. But those few bad ones can ruin a whole day. I don't want to be the pissy cashier that is rude to her customers. In fact, I try really hard not to be that cashier, but we are only human folks -- we have bad days. Sometimes these bad days can be avoided. This avoidance is the purpose of this blog. I'd much rather laugh and have a good time with you than be giving you the stink eye and plotting to squish your bread and break your eggs. 

"You Know Too Much"

   I had an elderly woman and her daughter come through my line, and at first they weren't so much to commit to memory. Nothing really unusual, just a daughter helping her mother. Then when the time had come to pay, the elderly woman hands her daughter a very large amount of bankcards. Split payments aren't hard to do, so that was no big deal, but the daughter tried to apologize to me anyway.
   "I'm so sorry. I don't know why she has all these cards." I assured her that this is no big deal, and as she started sliding them the elderly woman is telling her to put twenty dollars on this bankcard, thirty on that bankcard, one hundred on the next and her daughter is fussing, "Mom, you have too many cards, why can't you put all your money in one spot."
   "What if something happens to the bank? All my money would be gone," and she gives the daughter the final card, and the daughter slides it and puts in the pin without having to ask her mom the pin number. She hasn't had to ask her mom for any of the pins; clearly, paying in this manner is familiar to her.
    The elderly woman, however, gets this cunning look in her eye, and in as ominous voice as she can muster, intones "You know too much."
    "What? What are you talking about?" the daughter demands.
    "You know too much," the woman repeats, "You aren't supposed to know all my pins."
    "Momma, we do this every week," the frazzled daughter says.
   "I was watching Investigative Report-"
   "Oh lord," the daughter interrupts, her face having a 'here we go again' expression on,"You watch too much TV."
   "And they were talking about identity theft," the elderly woman continues, as if the daughter hadn't spoken, "Everybody isn't supposed to know your numbers."
   "But Momma, I'm not everybody; I'm somebody," the daughter exclaims, exasperated.
   "You never can tell." The elderly woman says. The daughter walks away in a huff as I hand the elderly woman her lengthy receipt, and I am laughing by now, because I can't help it. Frankly, I want to get a bag of popcorn and sit back and watch this show: these two are hilarious. As the elderly woman takes the receipt, the she gives me a huge grin and a realization strikes me.  She has been messing with her daughter's head the whole time! This is great, and all I can think is that I want to be just like this woman when I get older. She's exactly the type of woman who whacks the unsuspecting with her cane and causes mayhem in the nursing home. In other words: this woman is now my new role model. 

'Merry Christmas' Gets A Bad Rap

   It's the day of Christmas Eve, and like every Christmas Eve, I find myself working. Luckily, the store closes at six, and doesn't open at all on Christmas Day, and I'm thankful, because I know there are poor unfortunates out there who have to give up their holiday so the companies that they work for can squeeze in every drop of profit. My store doesn't though; we get our Christmas Day.
   All season long I've been politically correct and Happy Holidaying people left and right, because I know that there are other holidays out there, and I respect that. But today it is actually Christmas Eve, and while I'm glad that my store closes early, I could be doing other family things. I have a daughter at home waiting for me with baited breath because Santa is coming. There are cookies to bake, dinner to eat, stockings to hang by the chimney with care, sugar plums to have visions of (what the heck is a sugar plum, anyway?) and all that holiday magic. She has been waiting forever, and she wants me home, but I'm at work. And on Christmas Eve, I flat out refuse to happy holiday people. This is Christmas. Merry Christmas. This is my time for celebration, and how are you going to refuse me, on the actual days of my celebration? Even if you don't celebrate, you could just take my exuberant Merry Christmas as my heartfelt desire for you to have a fabulous day. You do not have to act like I spit in your face and kicked you in your shins. I mean, I have the temper for it, but I didn't. And for all your talk of freedom of religion and freedom of speech, you sure don't mind shitting all over my freedoms. Thanks. And congratulations, because those fanatics that you say you hate? Those delusional Jesus Freaks that you like to make fun of? Well, you're just like them, enforcing your beliefs on me by not allowing me to openly celebrate my holiday. I don't care what you believe, and I've been Happy Hanukkahing and Good Solsticing (and I don't even really know what that is) until I am blue in the face, so I think that turn about is fair play. So all I have to say to you is:

Merry Christmas!!!!

  May you have a fantastic holiday, whatever you celebrate. And may I have a very, Merry Christmas.