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This has been an interesting week.
Squeaky
A customer came through my line Thursday who could not seem to speak normally at all. Everytime I asked a question, she responded with a sound like a cross between a squeak and a grunt. I honestly don't know if there's a medical condition that causes this, or if it was just her, but it was weird. And a bit annoying, but I tried to be cheerful nonetheless (because it makes the truly unfortunate customers feel better, and it gives the sucky ones less to complain about). The kicker with this lady's transaction was as follows:
The lady bought three items. As soon as I picked up the first to scan it, she pulled a $20 from her wallet and held it out over the check counter (interfering with my smooth scanner-to-bag motion) and stared at me as though expecting to pay right then and there. I simply ignored her hand and rang up her three items, and totalled them all up.
Me: Your total is $18.75.
S (Squeaky): Squeak! *brandishes $20*
Me: *takes money* Out of $20?
S: *looks frantic, jabs her finger in the direction of the money* Squeak!
Me: *rings her out, hands her change*
S: *leaves without so much as a peep*
Oookaaay....
Cardstock Lady
Friday found me on a nearly-full-time closing shift, something I rather dislike at my Wal-Mart, especially when CSM S is working (she gets on my nerves). I much prefer when K, the other closing CSM, is on duty, as she's a peach. At the start of my shift, D was the CSM on duty (also a peach), but she left about an hour and a half into my shift.
At some point during the early part of the shift, things were rather hectic, since everyone and their dog decided to come in right then. During that hectic time, these two ladies came through my line. I rang up their purchase, as they were paying together, and one happened to see the itemized list on the pinpad screen.
CL (Cardstock Lady): What was $8?
Me: *prints copy of receipt, looks it over, compares with bagged goods* Well, ma'am, it would appear to be your pack of cardstock.
CL: What cardstock?
Me: *pulls pack in question out of the bag* This one.
CL: *stares at it for a few moments* That pack of paper was $3. I know, because that's why I grabbed it. There were a whole bunch of them there.
Me: *looking over the package, which has no clearance labels whatsoever on it. Thinking: Lady, I've worked in a craft store before, and there's no way this very nice, quality pack of cardstock is only $3.* Well, I can have someone go check. *sets light to blinking*
CL: *hefty sigh* It was $3.
Me: *goes over to phone, pages for someone from crafts. Thinking: Yeah, right.* It'll be a moment.
CL: I don't have time for this. Just take it off. I can't wait.
Me: Fine. *actually quite happy, takes it off the total and rings them through*
Not one minute after the two women left, the craft associate came up and I explained the situation. Her response?
"I don't have anything at all back there for $3. There's no way that pack of cardstock is $3."
Me: Thought so.
CSM With an Attitude
Did I mention I don't like working with CSM S?
Since my shift was nearly full-time, I was supposed to get my first break two hours after I started the shift. Cashiers are, unfortunately, at the mercy of the CSMs for when they get their breaks. Being a 6.5-months-pregnant lady, my breaks are rather important to me, because otherwise I'd probably pass out from low blood sugar. S is notorious among the cashiers for not giving breaks in a timely fashion, and for having an attitude about them (she has an attitude about a lot of things, and it's insanely difficult to tell when she's trying to joke and when she's truly just cheesed off at life).
So 2.5 hours into my shift, I'm still on a register and starting to feel hunger pangs (the warning sign that dizziness and weak knees are soon to follow). So I set my light so I can tell S that I'm late for my break. Fair enough. The other CSMs are usually a bit sheepish about it, if anything, and let me go.
Not S. She comes to my register and looks at me expectantly.
S: Yes?
Me: I need to go on my first break.
S: *VERY condescendingly* Well, Kogarashi, we usually tell you when your break is coming...."
Me: *interrupting, before she gets me annoyed enough to say something I'll regret* S, my break was supposed to come half an hour ago.
S: *blank look, silence*
Me: I'm going to ring these two customers out and go on my break. *turns away before I can glare*
So I get to go on my break 45 minutes late. The kicker? S sends me to my lunch break only half an hour after I get back from my first break, which is far too short an amount of time to be on a register. ::grumble::
Round Two: Fight!
So on my lunch break that same night, I'm already feeling crappy. I decide I'm going to get myself a root beer from the vending machine that stocks the store's brand of soda (it being the cheapest and the only vending machine with root beer) to make myself feel better. I whip out my change, put it in the machine, and hit the button.
Nothing. I hit the button again, still nothing. So I try for lemon-lime (Sprite-wannabe). Nada. I hit the coin return button. Zilch. ::sigh::
I truck up to the service desk to get a refund on my change. Once that's in my hand, I try the machine outside the store. I put in the money, hit the button for root beer.
Out comes a Dr. Pepper-wannabe. ::gag::
I go back to the service desk for another refund and trudge back to the breakroom. Water it is.
Thing is, these two machines did this same exact tag-team trick on me about a month and a half ago.
Soda: 2 Me: 0
Needs Choking
Some days, I really wish I owned my own store so I could whallop these credit card idiots upside the head firmly.
This "gentleman" comes through my line today and pays with a credit card. Register prompts for me to compare signatures. I ask to see the card. He starts to pull it out.
NC (Needs Choking): *while pulling out card* I don't sign my cards.
Me: Then I'll need to see ID too.
NC: It's in my car.
Me: Well, you can go get it and bring it back for verification then.
NC: You mean I have to go all the way home and then come back just for this?
Me: ??? I thought you said it was in your car.
NC: Yeah.
Me: Um...where's your car?
NC: Over at Nearby Apartment Complex, where I live.
Me: *sigh* You don't have any other form of ID on you?
NC: *sounding insulted* No.
Me: Sir, next time you go shopping with your credit card, make sure to take ID with you. It's either that or signing your cards. It's for your own protection. *finishes transaction*
Me: *completely not caring if the card's stolen or not, since I'll be leaving the job in a month and a half anyway*
Idiot. Either sign your card, or make sure you always have ID on you when you go shopping! I'ts that simple! And he's not the first resident of that complex to come shopping here and not bring ID, and then end up with me needing to check signatures. The other lady at least had a BJ's Wholesale Club card with her photo and name on it, and while that's not technically valid ID, it was enough for me to only want to whack her on the head with a plastic bat rather than throttle her soundly. I don't care if you didn't drive here. Have your ID with you anyway.
The guy's lucky he wasn't buying cigarettes, since he looked young enough I would've carded him, and if I ask, I don't care how old you look. No ID, no cigs.
Squeaky
A customer came through my line Thursday who could not seem to speak normally at all. Everytime I asked a question, she responded with a sound like a cross between a squeak and a grunt. I honestly don't know if there's a medical condition that causes this, or if it was just her, but it was weird. And a bit annoying, but I tried to be cheerful nonetheless (because it makes the truly unfortunate customers feel better, and it gives the sucky ones less to complain about). The kicker with this lady's transaction was as follows:
The lady bought three items. As soon as I picked up the first to scan it, she pulled a $20 from her wallet and held it out over the check counter (interfering with my smooth scanner-to-bag motion) and stared at me as though expecting to pay right then and there. I simply ignored her hand and rang up her three items, and totalled them all up.
Me: Your total is $18.75.
S (Squeaky): Squeak! *brandishes $20*
Me: *takes money* Out of $20?
S: *looks frantic, jabs her finger in the direction of the money* Squeak!
Me: *rings her out, hands her change*
S: *leaves without so much as a peep*
Oookaaay....
Cardstock Lady
Friday found me on a nearly-full-time closing shift, something I rather dislike at my Wal-Mart, especially when CSM S is working (she gets on my nerves). I much prefer when K, the other closing CSM, is on duty, as she's a peach. At the start of my shift, D was the CSM on duty (also a peach), but she left about an hour and a half into my shift.
At some point during the early part of the shift, things were rather hectic, since everyone and their dog decided to come in right then. During that hectic time, these two ladies came through my line. I rang up their purchase, as they were paying together, and one happened to see the itemized list on the pinpad screen.
CL (Cardstock Lady): What was $8?
Me: *prints copy of receipt, looks it over, compares with bagged goods* Well, ma'am, it would appear to be your pack of cardstock.
CL: What cardstock?
Me: *pulls pack in question out of the bag* This one.
CL: *stares at it for a few moments* That pack of paper was $3. I know, because that's why I grabbed it. There were a whole bunch of them there.
Me: *looking over the package, which has no clearance labels whatsoever on it. Thinking: Lady, I've worked in a craft store before, and there's no way this very nice, quality pack of cardstock is only $3.* Well, I can have someone go check. *sets light to blinking*
CL: *hefty sigh* It was $3.
Me: *goes over to phone, pages for someone from crafts. Thinking: Yeah, right.* It'll be a moment.
CL: I don't have time for this. Just take it off. I can't wait.
Me: Fine. *actually quite happy, takes it off the total and rings them through*
Not one minute after the two women left, the craft associate came up and I explained the situation. Her response?
"I don't have anything at all back there for $3. There's no way that pack of cardstock is $3."
Me: Thought so.
CSM With an Attitude
Did I mention I don't like working with CSM S?
Since my shift was nearly full-time, I was supposed to get my first break two hours after I started the shift. Cashiers are, unfortunately, at the mercy of the CSMs for when they get their breaks. Being a 6.5-months-pregnant lady, my breaks are rather important to me, because otherwise I'd probably pass out from low blood sugar. S is notorious among the cashiers for not giving breaks in a timely fashion, and for having an attitude about them (she has an attitude about a lot of things, and it's insanely difficult to tell when she's trying to joke and when she's truly just cheesed off at life).
So 2.5 hours into my shift, I'm still on a register and starting to feel hunger pangs (the warning sign that dizziness and weak knees are soon to follow). So I set my light so I can tell S that I'm late for my break. Fair enough. The other CSMs are usually a bit sheepish about it, if anything, and let me go.
Not S. She comes to my register and looks at me expectantly.
S: Yes?
Me: I need to go on my first break.
S: *VERY condescendingly* Well, Kogarashi, we usually tell you when your break is coming...."
Me: *interrupting, before she gets me annoyed enough to say something I'll regret* S, my break was supposed to come half an hour ago.
S: *blank look, silence*
Me: I'm going to ring these two customers out and go on my break. *turns away before I can glare*
So I get to go on my break 45 minutes late. The kicker? S sends me to my lunch break only half an hour after I get back from my first break, which is far too short an amount of time to be on a register. ::grumble::
Round Two: Fight!
So on my lunch break that same night, I'm already feeling crappy. I decide I'm going to get myself a root beer from the vending machine that stocks the store's brand of soda (it being the cheapest and the only vending machine with root beer) to make myself feel better. I whip out my change, put it in the machine, and hit the button.
Nothing. I hit the button again, still nothing. So I try for lemon-lime (Sprite-wannabe). Nada. I hit the coin return button. Zilch. ::sigh::
I truck up to the service desk to get a refund on my change. Once that's in my hand, I try the machine outside the store. I put in the money, hit the button for root beer.
Out comes a Dr. Pepper-wannabe. ::gag::
I go back to the service desk for another refund and trudge back to the breakroom. Water it is.
Thing is, these two machines did this same exact tag-team trick on me about a month and a half ago.
Soda: 2 Me: 0
Needs Choking
Some days, I really wish I owned my own store so I could whallop these credit card idiots upside the head firmly.
This "gentleman" comes through my line today and pays with a credit card. Register prompts for me to compare signatures. I ask to see the card. He starts to pull it out.
NC (Needs Choking): *while pulling out card* I don't sign my cards.
Me: Then I'll need to see ID too.
NC: It's in my car.
Me: Well, you can go get it and bring it back for verification then.
NC: You mean I have to go all the way home and then come back just for this?
Me: ??? I thought you said it was in your car.
NC: Yeah.
Me: Um...where's your car?
NC: Over at Nearby Apartment Complex, where I live.
Me: *sigh* You don't have any other form of ID on you?
NC: *sounding insulted* No.
Me: Sir, next time you go shopping with your credit card, make sure to take ID with you. It's either that or signing your cards. It's for your own protection. *finishes transaction*
Me: *completely not caring if the card's stolen or not, since I'll be leaving the job in a month and a half anyway*
Idiot. Either sign your card, or make sure you always have ID on you when you go shopping! I'ts that simple! And he's not the first resident of that complex to come shopping here and not bring ID, and then end up with me needing to check signatures. The other lady at least had a BJ's Wholesale Club card with her photo and name on it, and while that's not technically valid ID, it was enough for me to only want to whack her on the head with a plastic bat rather than throttle her soundly. I don't care if you didn't drive here. Have your ID with you anyway.
The guy's lucky he wasn't buying cigarettes, since he looked young enough I would've carded him, and if I ask, I don't care how old you look. No ID, no cigs.
WELCOME 
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