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Last night was not my night for work. After another day spent not seeing my husband since he left for school/work early in the morning, I had to go work a closing shift with my least-favorite CSM. 
But first, a tale from last week that I forgot about until last night.
Got Beer?
While working the cigarette lane (oh, how I despise thee), I had this gem of a customer come up. He looked greasy and unkempt, and was buying something like a DVD player and one or two smaller items from the Health and Beauty department. And a pack of cigarettes as I discovered halfway through the transaction, but I'm kinda' jaded to that. But the first thing he says to me?
"Do you have any beer here?"
He asked this while leaning close enough that I could pick up the malodorous tang of stale booze on his breath, shirt, and hair. By smell alone, I would hazard to guess he was already on his way to being drunk. Wearing eau d'Booze and it being only 10 am at that!
Thankfully, I got to tell him no, since we are a smaller Wal-Mart. Only an Expanded Foods department rather than the full-on grocery section the Supercenters have, plus we're not open 24 hours. No alcohol anywhere in the store, except over in Health and Beauty (and, like malt vinegar, I don't recommend drinking that stuff). If we did carry liquor, I'm pretty sure our training module for alcohol sales mentions that we're not to sell alcohol to anyone who smells of booze.
---
And now for last night's "perks."
Yes, I'm Targeting YOU
A female customer came through my line before I got bumped over to the cigarette lane (which was Pregnant Lady Central, since the cashier sending me to my first break was also pregnant). Now, this lady was paying with a credit card. This lady's total came to about $200, which means that the register prompted for a signature comparison (anything $100+). However, the lady had swiped the card while I was still ringing things up and had already tucked it back in her purse.
So I politely ask to see the card for signature comparison. She finishes signing the PINpad screen and huffs annoyedly, digging the card back out. She tosses it toward me with her ID and a very annoyed look at me, like I'm doing this just to bother her. Nevermind that she's the one who didn't keep the card out just in case. I always set my credit card signature-up on the check counter just in case when I'm paying. Once or twice, the cashier's actually needed to see it.
Now at this point, I notice that I didn't hear the little "beep" sound the PINpad makes when the customer hits OK after signing for their card. So I politely ask the customer to hit the OK button (I'm still holding her card and unasked-for ID at this point). She glares at me and huffs some more, jabbing at the button with her finger for a few moments (touch screen) before picking up the electronic pen to do it (much more reliable). I wait for the receipt to print out and compare signatures and hand everything back to her with my usual cheerful grin. She merely glares at me like I'm specifically targeting her with these inconveniences. Sorry, Ma'am, I'm an equal opportunity inconveniencer!
Um, Ew?
The very next lady was pleasant to deal with, but came with a kind of disgusting habit.
She was chewing gum.
Now, I don't mind gum chewers. I chew gum myself. I at least have the courtesy to tuck it between cheek and gums when I need to talk to someone, and I don't chew with my mouth open.
This lady was chewing this piece of gum with her front teeth, mouth open, while talking to me. That gum nearly went flying at me at least ten times during the very short transaction. She continued to chew like that, with the gum flipping half-out of her mouth every other bite, even when she wasn't saying anything. It was all I could do to keep from wrinkling my nose up in disgust.
Scan, Dang It!
While on the self-checkouts, I noticed one woman who had finished ringing her purchases, had picked up a magazine from the magazine rack, and attempted to ring it up too. The scanner didn't pick up the barcode for some reason, so what did this lady do? Did she slowly pass it over the scanner a second time to try to get it to read? Did she hold it closer to the scanner? Did she ask me for help?
No. She shook it vigorously in front of the laser reader, to the point her hands were almost a blur. The scanners don't read anything passed over them that fast (just ask any of the customers who do this to the gift cards). Eventually, the woman just stuck the magazine back on the rack and left. At least she didn't try to steal it.
Sir, Chauvinism Isn't Funny
One older male customer decided it'd be funny to make male chauvinist pig remarks to me during the entire transaction. Comments like a generalization about women and money (and how once they get the man's money, they want nothing to do with him again). Stuff that I would've considered borderline harassment, except that I was ringing him out quickly (yay, small purchase!), and the younger (25-ish?) son/grandson with him was a perfect gentleman and more than made up for it. Son even told me to ignore the old man, to which I thought, "Already doing that, sir, but thank you for caring." I think I might have even leveled a steely glare at the old guy in response to one of his jokes. I can't remember.
Accusing the Cashier/Store of Cheating You Isn't Funny Either
This other customer was buying a toaster or some other small kitchen appliance, among other things, and the box was too large for me to fit into a bag. I simply set it on top of the bagging carousel, and most customers just put it back in the cart. Some ask if they need a "paid" sticker for it, and I tell them that their receipt is enough if the door-greeter stops them.
This customer, though.... ::makes strangling motions:: His wife was pleasant enough, but while she was writing out the check the husband looks at the box. He feels the packing tape running across the top seam. Now, this tape is standard on any of the small kitchen appliances (especially from this particular manufacturer), and is on the boxes when the stores receive the items. It keeps the box shut, rather than using glue.
The customer eyes it, then looks at me. "Can I open this in here to make sure nothing's broken or missing?" he asks.
I politely reply that he might want to wait until he's left the store to do so, and jokingly add that our security people might get on his case if he opens the box before then.
The man merely gives me a sort of half-glare, half-stare. "I don't like this tape on here," he says. "How do I know you guys aren't ripping me off?"
Buh? "Sir, the box comes like that from the manufacturer."
He flips the box over and sees a matching strip of neatly-placed tape on the bottom seam. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice dripping with suspicion.
"I'm certain, sir. That's how ApplianceCompany packs the products they send us, instead of gluing the boxes shut."
He levels me the Stare of Suspicion, but seems placated by this. Has he never bought a small kitchen appliance before? Every microwave, crockpot, blender, toaster, etc. that I've seen has come taped into its box instead of glued.
---
I know there were more minor peeves, but I must've blocked them from memory while trying to endure the cigarette lane and the few-screws-loose CSM S.
...Who, once again, managed to forget my last break. Which means once I finally got off the cigarette register (at only 10:05! The store closes as 10 pm, and the cigarette register stays open last to ring out straggling customers. That must be a record!), I got to sit in the breakroom for 15 minutes instead of having to endure S's bright idea of having a Wal-Mart cheer after close, or having to zone and put away returns.
To top off the bad night, there were no empty parking spaces close (or vaguely close) to our apartment door when I got home, and I ended up denting another car in an attempt to pull into a crappily-placed parking space, and a few other minor stressors, and you have the makings for a sucktacular night.
Luckily today is shaping up to be much better.
But first, a tale from last week that I forgot about until last night.
Got Beer?
While working the cigarette lane (oh, how I despise thee), I had this gem of a customer come up. He looked greasy and unkempt, and was buying something like a DVD player and one or two smaller items from the Health and Beauty department. And a pack of cigarettes as I discovered halfway through the transaction, but I'm kinda' jaded to that. But the first thing he says to me?
"Do you have any beer here?"
He asked this while leaning close enough that I could pick up the malodorous tang of stale booze on his breath, shirt, and hair. By smell alone, I would hazard to guess he was already on his way to being drunk. Wearing eau d'Booze and it being only 10 am at that!
Thankfully, I got to tell him no, since we are a smaller Wal-Mart. Only an Expanded Foods department rather than the full-on grocery section the Supercenters have, plus we're not open 24 hours. No alcohol anywhere in the store, except over in Health and Beauty (and, like malt vinegar, I don't recommend drinking that stuff). If we did carry liquor, I'm pretty sure our training module for alcohol sales mentions that we're not to sell alcohol to anyone who smells of booze.
---
And now for last night's "perks."
Yes, I'm Targeting YOU
A female customer came through my line before I got bumped over to the cigarette lane (which was Pregnant Lady Central, since the cashier sending me to my first break was also pregnant). Now, this lady was paying with a credit card. This lady's total came to about $200, which means that the register prompted for a signature comparison (anything $100+). However, the lady had swiped the card while I was still ringing things up and had already tucked it back in her purse.
So I politely ask to see the card for signature comparison. She finishes signing the PINpad screen and huffs annoyedly, digging the card back out. She tosses it toward me with her ID and a very annoyed look at me, like I'm doing this just to bother her. Nevermind that she's the one who didn't keep the card out just in case. I always set my credit card signature-up on the check counter just in case when I'm paying. Once or twice, the cashier's actually needed to see it.
Now at this point, I notice that I didn't hear the little "beep" sound the PINpad makes when the customer hits OK after signing for their card. So I politely ask the customer to hit the OK button (I'm still holding her card and unasked-for ID at this point). She glares at me and huffs some more, jabbing at the button with her finger for a few moments (touch screen) before picking up the electronic pen to do it (much more reliable). I wait for the receipt to print out and compare signatures and hand everything back to her with my usual cheerful grin. She merely glares at me like I'm specifically targeting her with these inconveniences. Sorry, Ma'am, I'm an equal opportunity inconveniencer!
Um, Ew?
The very next lady was pleasant to deal with, but came with a kind of disgusting habit.
She was chewing gum.
Now, I don't mind gum chewers. I chew gum myself. I at least have the courtesy to tuck it between cheek and gums when I need to talk to someone, and I don't chew with my mouth open.
This lady was chewing this piece of gum with her front teeth, mouth open, while talking to me. That gum nearly went flying at me at least ten times during the very short transaction. She continued to chew like that, with the gum flipping half-out of her mouth every other bite, even when she wasn't saying anything. It was all I could do to keep from wrinkling my nose up in disgust.
Scan, Dang It!
While on the self-checkouts, I noticed one woman who had finished ringing her purchases, had picked up a magazine from the magazine rack, and attempted to ring it up too. The scanner didn't pick up the barcode for some reason, so what did this lady do? Did she slowly pass it over the scanner a second time to try to get it to read? Did she hold it closer to the scanner? Did she ask me for help?
No. She shook it vigorously in front of the laser reader, to the point her hands were almost a blur. The scanners don't read anything passed over them that fast (just ask any of the customers who do this to the gift cards). Eventually, the woman just stuck the magazine back on the rack and left. At least she didn't try to steal it.
Sir, Chauvinism Isn't Funny
One older male customer decided it'd be funny to make male chauvinist pig remarks to me during the entire transaction. Comments like a generalization about women and money (and how once they get the man's money, they want nothing to do with him again). Stuff that I would've considered borderline harassment, except that I was ringing him out quickly (yay, small purchase!), and the younger (25-ish?) son/grandson with him was a perfect gentleman and more than made up for it. Son even told me to ignore the old man, to which I thought, "Already doing that, sir, but thank you for caring." I think I might have even leveled a steely glare at the old guy in response to one of his jokes. I can't remember.
Accusing the Cashier/Store of Cheating You Isn't Funny Either
This other customer was buying a toaster or some other small kitchen appliance, among other things, and the box was too large for me to fit into a bag. I simply set it on top of the bagging carousel, and most customers just put it back in the cart. Some ask if they need a "paid" sticker for it, and I tell them that their receipt is enough if the door-greeter stops them.
This customer, though.... ::makes strangling motions:: His wife was pleasant enough, but while she was writing out the check the husband looks at the box. He feels the packing tape running across the top seam. Now, this tape is standard on any of the small kitchen appliances (especially from this particular manufacturer), and is on the boxes when the stores receive the items. It keeps the box shut, rather than using glue.
The customer eyes it, then looks at me. "Can I open this in here to make sure nothing's broken or missing?" he asks.
I politely reply that he might want to wait until he's left the store to do so, and jokingly add that our security people might get on his case if he opens the box before then.
The man merely gives me a sort of half-glare, half-stare. "I don't like this tape on here," he says. "How do I know you guys aren't ripping me off?"
Buh? "Sir, the box comes like that from the manufacturer."
He flips the box over and sees a matching strip of neatly-placed tape on the bottom seam. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice dripping with suspicion.
"I'm certain, sir. That's how ApplianceCompany packs the products they send us, instead of gluing the boxes shut."
He levels me the Stare of Suspicion, but seems placated by this. Has he never bought a small kitchen appliance before? Every microwave, crockpot, blender, toaster, etc. that I've seen has come taped into its box instead of glued.
---
I know there were more minor peeves, but I must've blocked them from memory while trying to endure the cigarette lane and the few-screws-loose CSM S.
...Who, once again, managed to forget my last break. Which means once I finally got off the cigarette register (at only 10:05! The store closes as 10 pm, and the cigarette register stays open last to ring out straggling customers. That must be a record!), I got to sit in the breakroom for 15 minutes instead of having to endure S's bright idea of having a Wal-Mart cheer after close, or having to zone and put away returns.
To top off the bad night, there were no empty parking spaces close (or vaguely close) to our apartment door when I got home, and I ended up denting another car in an attempt to pull into a crappily-placed parking space, and a few other minor stressors, and you have the makings for a sucktacular night.
Luckily today is shaping up to be much better.
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