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I've recently (about three weeks ago) started up a new job cashiering for Wal-Mart again. Call me crazy, but I actually like the job. In general. I like it much better than the custodial job I held, or the horrific (but thankfully brief) outbound call center temp job. I'm only holding down this cashier job until our baby is born (in December!), and then Hubby wants me to be a stay-at-home mom (his graduate stipend will just barely be able to manage all that).
Of course, as with any job, there are the real winners who make me want to pack up and go home. Here are a few from my first three weeks on the job.
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I've gotten countless huffy looks and cold stares when I've caught out people trying to stuff unwanted merchandise among my candy rack. I'll usually ask them to just hand the item to me and I'll take care of it, in the hopes that they'll be a bit chagrined and remember for next time. Usually they seem offended (but quietly so) that I had the nerve to not let them hide stuff on my register line. One lady decided she needed to reiterate no less than three times that she didn't want the item (she spoke flawless English too, so it wasn't a language issue), despite my assurances that I wasn't going to ring it up. I tend to get these cold looks also when I ask customers to push their empty carts over to the bottled water display against the wall instead of leaving them among the forest of registers (double-stacked rows) to block three other lines of customers on a busy day.
Had one guy who reminded me of one of my biggest pet peeves of cashiering: self-checkout on a full-service register. This "gentleman" had a soda bottle he was drinking out of (which I don't mind so much, so long as they pay for the merchandise), while I was ringing up his other items. About halfway through, he capped the bottle and reached around my register to ring up the bottle himself. I politely, but firmly, requested that he not do that in the future and just hand it to the cashier. Dude. If you want to ring up your own merchandise, go to the self-checkouts. Don't reach into my personal work space.
Had a handful of other customers who picked up the annoying (but only mildly so) habit of turning the bagging carousel while I was still filling bags. It really hurts to reach for what's supposed to be a waiting, open bag and have your hand nearly taken off at the knuckles or wrist by an overzealous customer. At least most of them understood when I caught the spokes and asked them to let me turn it instead. Little kids listen less often, unfortunately.
One poor lady came through buying a bunch of clothes and necessities and talking on her cell phone (annoying, but she at least acknowledged my presence and made sure to communicate important things). I call her "poor" in the sympathetic fashion, because it turns out she had "just been in a fire" (her words; I assume she meant her house burned down the night before). She explained this because her money was half-burnt (still useable, though, I think) and sopping wet. I could smell the woodsmoke on it, and it literally left a puddle on the belt where she was carefully separating it. This was apparently the last of her money, too. I had to call over a CSM to take the cash because there was no way I was going to put that in my till or foist it off on some unsuspecting customer later.
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And the four major gems:
The Rebagger
I smelled this lady and her mother coming before they actually appeared from behind the other registers. The lady (younger) must've bathed in perfume that morning. I tried to keep my grimaces to myself and get her out of there as quickly as possible. What really irks me was that she heaped her items on the belt in no particular order. Not usually a problem, as I attempt to sort and bag the items properly as I ring them up (yay monkey-arms). The lady decided as she was pulling the bags off of the carousel to rebag everything, muttering under her breath a commentary on my bagging style. Things like, "this bag's too heavy" or "this shouldn't be in here with this." Now, I reiterate that she didn't bother to put any sort of order to her purchase on the belt, leaving it to me to bag as I saw fit. I also think I do quite well with bagging items so that the bread and eggs are safe, the clothes are away from the cold food, the chemicals won't dribble on edibles, etc. And this lady just passively-aggressively muttered about my bagging while redoing everything.
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Chutzpah Kid
I was manning the self-checkouts one afternoon. There happens to be a register setup (screen, keyboard, pinpad, till/drawer) next to the self-checkout computer screen, in case someone comes through with a check or a gift card or to act as an emergency express lane (the other associates also go there to quickly buy their water or candy or whatever for their 15 min. breaks). While I'm standing there, this kid (CK) wanders over from the vending/ride area. He looks to be about 10 or so.
CK: Do you have $.50?
Me: Why?
CK: (sheepish grin) D'you have $.50?
Me: (repeating myself a bit slower) Why do you need it?
CK: It's not for me, it's for my brother. (gestures vaguely toward the rides)
Me: Well, I can't help you with that unless you buy something. (thinking: ok, other people come up with a dollar they want to break, but we can't open the till without a cash or check transaction)
CK: I don't have any money.
Me: (patting my vest pockets) Well, I don't have any money either.
CK: (gestures to the till/drawer) I meant you could give me some money from in there. (that stupid sheepish grin again)
Me: (with the "nice try" look/vocal tone this time) I can't give you any money from my till.
Luckily, he went on his way after that and didn't try bumming more money from the store. Like I'm going to get fired so your little brother can ride the stupid truck or buy a cheap plastic toy.
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Hellions
Plural, because there were three total. This lady (who was actually decent herself, if a bit inattentive to her children) came through my line. I was working on one of the two cigarette registers at this point (caged in area with swinging gates to keep the customers out of the cigarette racks; because the registers are double-row, there are two cig registers, but mine was the only one open). These three little girls with her were running all through the register area, and decided that the bagging carousel was a great jungle gym. I nipped that in the bud quickly, giving them the warning "Don't play with that" that I usually use with children (that seems to keep their mothers from snapping at me but still gets the kids to listen). Mom echoed the sentiment with some sincerity, and they left the carousel alone. I went back to scanning. Then I heard Mom say, "Don't climb on that. I don't think she'd appreciate that." I look, and the girls are climbing on the aisle gate, which is not a jungle gym and we are expressly to keep kids from climbing on it. I echo the Mom this time, and the girls leave that alone too. Instead, they consent to run around some more and whine for treats (which Mom didn't give them; go Mom!).
As I've got the till open and am handing the lady her change, I happen to glance to my right and notice...of all things...one of the girls in the bagged ice freezer, with another of the girls holding the door shut.. I immediately slammed the till shut and marched over there and gave them a sterner reprimand not to play in the freezer. That's about when Mom noticed too and came over to reinforce the statement and take the girls outside (transaction was done anyway). Grrr.... At least she didn't seem the type of lady to throw a hissy fit at the employees for reprimanding her girls. She gets cookies. Her girls do not.
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Abusive Brat
Another rather nice lady came through when I was on one of the regular registers with three children, one of whom appeared to be anywhere from two to four years of age (sitting in the seat of the cart). The other two children were quickly forgettable, running off to the vending area. Brat, on the other hand, was confined to the cart, and was one of those kids who's holding an item of merchandise, can't understand why it needs to be taken away (for scanning), and throws a hysterical fit if not catered to. Which is why I think you should not hand your young child an item of merchandise, in my opinion, but anyway. This kid was holding a children's DVD. And absolutely banging it onto the conveyor belt. Mom quickly stopped that, but Brat was downright unruly. He kept yelling those annoying, loud, "happy" yells and flailing his arms around in what I assume to be toddler glee.
When Mom pushed him up to the register area to get him away from the belt, he found the pinpad and started yanking on the machine's digital pen and pushing buttons. Mom pulled him back a bit so she could get in there. So Brat decided to reach over the top of the register keyboard and reach for me (or something). His hand hit a button, which made a loud beeping noise (error). His eyes lit up, and he immediately began to mash his hand there a whole bunch more until I grabbed his hand away and Mom pushed the cart further forward.
Well, then, Brat discovered Mom's fast-food-soda in its cup and lid in the seat of the cart next to him, picked it up, and threw it at the floor. I want to know what restaurant that cup was purchased at, because the lid barely budged and only a few soda drops spilled, despite the cup landing on its side. Mom picked up the cup, and I grabbed some paper towel to clean it up. I walk around the register and bend over and begin wiping.
And that's when Brat decided that I was the perfect target, because he hit me with the DVD, square in the back. I stood up to give him a look and a reprimand because you do not hit me, and he hit me in the glasses with the DVD. I gave him the Look and told him that if he didn't stop, I'd bag the DVD. Mom repeated the threat, but I don't know if it actually worked because I retreated behind the register where Brat's stubby toddler arms couldn't reach me. I finished ringing them out right quick after that. I like children, but I hate unruly brats of any age (babies get more leeway of course, but Brat was no baby anymore).
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Anyway, I'm sure I shall have more of these in the future, with my luck. Hopefully they'll be few and far between.
Of course, as with any job, there are the real winners who make me want to pack up and go home. Here are a few from my first three weeks on the job.
---
I've gotten countless huffy looks and cold stares when I've caught out people trying to stuff unwanted merchandise among my candy rack. I'll usually ask them to just hand the item to me and I'll take care of it, in the hopes that they'll be a bit chagrined and remember for next time. Usually they seem offended (but quietly so) that I had the nerve to not let them hide stuff on my register line. One lady decided she needed to reiterate no less than three times that she didn't want the item (she spoke flawless English too, so it wasn't a language issue), despite my assurances that I wasn't going to ring it up. I tend to get these cold looks also when I ask customers to push their empty carts over to the bottled water display against the wall instead of leaving them among the forest of registers (double-stacked rows) to block three other lines of customers on a busy day.
Had one guy who reminded me of one of my biggest pet peeves of cashiering: self-checkout on a full-service register. This "gentleman" had a soda bottle he was drinking out of (which I don't mind so much, so long as they pay for the merchandise), while I was ringing up his other items. About halfway through, he capped the bottle and reached around my register to ring up the bottle himself. I politely, but firmly, requested that he not do that in the future and just hand it to the cashier. Dude. If you want to ring up your own merchandise, go to the self-checkouts. Don't reach into my personal work space.
Had a handful of other customers who picked up the annoying (but only mildly so) habit of turning the bagging carousel while I was still filling bags. It really hurts to reach for what's supposed to be a waiting, open bag and have your hand nearly taken off at the knuckles or wrist by an overzealous customer. At least most of them understood when I caught the spokes and asked them to let me turn it instead. Little kids listen less often, unfortunately.
One poor lady came through buying a bunch of clothes and necessities and talking on her cell phone (annoying, but she at least acknowledged my presence and made sure to communicate important things). I call her "poor" in the sympathetic fashion, because it turns out she had "just been in a fire" (her words; I assume she meant her house burned down the night before). She explained this because her money was half-burnt (still useable, though, I think) and sopping wet. I could smell the woodsmoke on it, and it literally left a puddle on the belt where she was carefully separating it. This was apparently the last of her money, too. I had to call over a CSM to take the cash because there was no way I was going to put that in my till or foist it off on some unsuspecting customer later.
---
And the four major gems:
The Rebagger
I smelled this lady and her mother coming before they actually appeared from behind the other registers. The lady (younger) must've bathed in perfume that morning. I tried to keep my grimaces to myself and get her out of there as quickly as possible. What really irks me was that she heaped her items on the belt in no particular order. Not usually a problem, as I attempt to sort and bag the items properly as I ring them up (yay monkey-arms). The lady decided as she was pulling the bags off of the carousel to rebag everything, muttering under her breath a commentary on my bagging style. Things like, "this bag's too heavy" or "this shouldn't be in here with this." Now, I reiterate that she didn't bother to put any sort of order to her purchase on the belt, leaving it to me to bag as I saw fit. I also think I do quite well with bagging items so that the bread and eggs are safe, the clothes are away from the cold food, the chemicals won't dribble on edibles, etc. And this lady just passively-aggressively muttered about my bagging while redoing everything.
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Chutzpah Kid
I was manning the self-checkouts one afternoon. There happens to be a register setup (screen, keyboard, pinpad, till/drawer) next to the self-checkout computer screen, in case someone comes through with a check or a gift card or to act as an emergency express lane (the other associates also go there to quickly buy their water or candy or whatever for their 15 min. breaks). While I'm standing there, this kid (CK) wanders over from the vending/ride area. He looks to be about 10 or so.
CK: Do you have $.50?
Me: Why?
CK: (sheepish grin) D'you have $.50?
Me: (repeating myself a bit slower) Why do you need it?
CK: It's not for me, it's for my brother. (gestures vaguely toward the rides)
Me: Well, I can't help you with that unless you buy something. (thinking: ok, other people come up with a dollar they want to break, but we can't open the till without a cash or check transaction)
CK: I don't have any money.
Me: (patting my vest pockets) Well, I don't have any money either.
CK: (gestures to the till/drawer) I meant you could give me some money from in there. (that stupid sheepish grin again)
Me: (with the "nice try" look/vocal tone this time) I can't give you any money from my till.
Luckily, he went on his way after that and didn't try bumming more money from the store. Like I'm going to get fired so your little brother can ride the stupid truck or buy a cheap plastic toy.
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Hellions
Plural, because there were three total. This lady (who was actually decent herself, if a bit inattentive to her children) came through my line. I was working on one of the two cigarette registers at this point (caged in area with swinging gates to keep the customers out of the cigarette racks; because the registers are double-row, there are two cig registers, but mine was the only one open). These three little girls with her were running all through the register area, and decided that the bagging carousel was a great jungle gym. I nipped that in the bud quickly, giving them the warning "Don't play with that" that I usually use with children (that seems to keep their mothers from snapping at me but still gets the kids to listen). Mom echoed the sentiment with some sincerity, and they left the carousel alone. I went back to scanning. Then I heard Mom say, "Don't climb on that. I don't think she'd appreciate that." I look, and the girls are climbing on the aisle gate, which is not a jungle gym and we are expressly to keep kids from climbing on it. I echo the Mom this time, and the girls leave that alone too. Instead, they consent to run around some more and whine for treats (which Mom didn't give them; go Mom!).
As I've got the till open and am handing the lady her change, I happen to glance to my right and notice...of all things...one of the girls in the bagged ice freezer, with another of the girls holding the door shut.. I immediately slammed the till shut and marched over there and gave them a sterner reprimand not to play in the freezer. That's about when Mom noticed too and came over to reinforce the statement and take the girls outside (transaction was done anyway). Grrr.... At least she didn't seem the type of lady to throw a hissy fit at the employees for reprimanding her girls. She gets cookies. Her girls do not.
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Abusive Brat
Another rather nice lady came through when I was on one of the regular registers with three children, one of whom appeared to be anywhere from two to four years of age (sitting in the seat of the cart). The other two children were quickly forgettable, running off to the vending area. Brat, on the other hand, was confined to the cart, and was one of those kids who's holding an item of merchandise, can't understand why it needs to be taken away (for scanning), and throws a hysterical fit if not catered to. Which is why I think you should not hand your young child an item of merchandise, in my opinion, but anyway. This kid was holding a children's DVD. And absolutely banging it onto the conveyor belt. Mom quickly stopped that, but Brat was downright unruly. He kept yelling those annoying, loud, "happy" yells and flailing his arms around in what I assume to be toddler glee.
When Mom pushed him up to the register area to get him away from the belt, he found the pinpad and started yanking on the machine's digital pen and pushing buttons. Mom pulled him back a bit so she could get in there. So Brat decided to reach over the top of the register keyboard and reach for me (or something). His hand hit a button, which made a loud beeping noise (error). His eyes lit up, and he immediately began to mash his hand there a whole bunch more until I grabbed his hand away and Mom pushed the cart further forward.
Well, then, Brat discovered Mom's fast-food-soda in its cup and lid in the seat of the cart next to him, picked it up, and threw it at the floor. I want to know what restaurant that cup was purchased at, because the lid barely budged and only a few soda drops spilled, despite the cup landing on its side. Mom picked up the cup, and I grabbed some paper towel to clean it up. I walk around the register and bend over and begin wiping.
And that's when Brat decided that I was the perfect target, because he hit me with the DVD, square in the back. I stood up to give him a look and a reprimand because you do not hit me, and he hit me in the glasses with the DVD. I gave him the Look and told him that if he didn't stop, I'd bag the DVD. Mom repeated the threat, but I don't know if it actually worked because I retreated behind the register where Brat's stubby toddler arms couldn't reach me. I finished ringing them out right quick after that. I like children, but I hate unruly brats of any age (babies get more leeway of course, but Brat was no baby anymore).
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Anyway, I'm sure I shall have more of these in the future, with my luck. Hopefully they'll be few and far between.
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