Day Thirty Seven

Update: No Shit Talking Rule

The "No Shit Talking" rule had been in effect for a little over a week. I was loving it. So were some of my fellow employees. I don't have to talk about other people behind their backs to be entertained at work, but I know that some of the younger employees have a harder time with this rule. The no shit talking rule happened because of serial shit-talking old ladies like O.C.Daisy and Cake Eyes, but young people like Sally Spec and Crazy Red Head Vegan had to work to talk about other things than the grumbling old ladies at work. Banshee (who is, by the way, looking more and more pregnant but apparently is not pregnant) told me that the new rule was drawing fire from angry older cashiers. I responded to Banshee by giving her a high five. The cashiers are going to grow up, damn it.

Rude Judy and the Central Market Boys

An unhappy looking woman came into my line with her sons. They had a ton of Central Market reusable bags that they handed to me to pack what would have been an insanely large amount of groceries. Thankfully, Sweet Nate came along to help me with this one. I began to ring in the food items, when I looked at the unhappy woman.

ME: Cheer up! Life is not THAT bad.

No response. I continued to scan groceries and attempted to talk to her again.

ME: Have any fun plans this weekend?

No response again. Maybe she was having a bad day. No smiling for this lady, not today. Nate began to bag the groceries and the unhappy lady started to order him around, telling him what to put in each bag. She took certain items out of certain bags and Nate had to correct the bag organization. Why didn't she just bag all of this her damn self? Why couldn't she get one of her useless sons to help so she can yell at one of them instead of my guy? She continued to speak condescendingly to Sweet Nate, which began to make me mad. Nate was annoyed but continued to help and be the only thing he knows how to be: nice. I couldn't figure out what her problem was. Some people have a bad day, but they tend to express their frustrations about the day. Some people are tired and don't feel like talking, but they aren't bitches about it. Some people experience loss or tragedy but still need their groceries. I can sense when people are sad, their expressions are morose and gloomy. I couldn't figure this one out. She was bossy, mean, unhappy and obsessive compulsive about what goes in what bag. The only thing I could imagine was that she was a recent divorcee...or soon to be.

After what seemed like an eternity of this bullshit, the transaction was finally over. After she paid, I tried one more time to talk to her.

ME: Here is your receipt. Have a nice day.

She didn't respond, she took the receipt and began walking away. After walking away five feet, I said one last thing.

ME: Next time use the word 'PLEASE'.

Bitch.

Buster and the Mayor of Crazyville

A relatively new grocery bagger, named Buster, seems to like bagging groceries for me. I noticed that he doesn't volunteer to bag for many other cashiers. I think he is dismissed by the others. He is kind of a lazy person and has to be constantly reminded of what to do, probably because he hates his job and doesn't want to do it, but he always seems to jump up to my register first when it gets busy. I do always make sure to include him in the conversation with customers, maybe that's why he is always willing to help me out.

This lady came into my line that was on her cell phone yelling at whoever was on the other side of the conversation. I ignored whatever she was saying and began to ring in her groceries while Buster helped bag. The woman finally got off the phone, dramatically scoffing and sighing.

BUSTER: Ma'am I began bagging in plastic. Is that okay or would you like paper?
WOMAN: [points at Buster] When you get married, you LISTEN to your wife!
ME: Ma'am? This is Buster, not your husband. Don't yell at him.
WOMAN: I just speak sternly. I never yell at people.
ME: You can stop pointing at him too, ma'am.

The crazy woman put her arm down and laughed...and for once, Buster wished he wasn't helping me.

Update: Cute Guy Maybe (Not Really)

My manager gave me an envelope during my shift. It was a birthday card (delivered two weeks late) from the president of the company, the father of Cute Guy. It seemed like forever ago that Cute Guy quit. I wondered how he was doing, how drunk he might be at that very moment, and how uninvolved or unaware his dad was of CG's suffering (Cute Guy's mom died in the past year). I hoped Cute Guy was doing alright, wherever he was.

Lazy Susan

A couple came into my line with a small basket of groceries. It was mostly the guy's groceries. The girl went second and only had a couple of things.

GIRL: I don't want these. [she hands me a bunch of grapes]
GUY: Just put those back yourself, it's right there [he motioned to a place ten feet away]
GIRL: She can put it back. [motioning to me]
GUY: [rolled his eyes, shaking his head]

After the guy's transaction was over I began to ring in the girl's groceries.

GIRL: I got $5.39 in cashews? Is that right?
ME: Yes. They are $8.99 a pound.
GIRL: Put it back. I am not paying five dollars for that.
ME: I can't put it back. Once you take food out of the bulk bins they are either purchased or thrown away. Never put back.
GIRL: I'm not going to get them.
GUY: Wow. [shaking his head]

Wow, indeed. How hard is it to check the price or use the scales available in the bulk section? What a wasteful, lazy person. Now I am throwing away $5 of cashews someone else could have eaten. Even her boyfriend thinks she is an embarrassment.

Scream Train

It was close to the end of the night when I heard it. Screaming. Happy screaming, but screaming nonetheless. The screamer was mobile. I looked toward the back of the store and could not locate the source. It went on for 20 minutes. I had to tend to customers and the screaming continued. Whatever it was, I was sure its head was rotating over its shoulders and an exorcism would have to take place.

Finally the screamer and his enabler came into view with his family to check out groceries in JV's line. An adult man was chasing around what looked like a two year old boy. The boy was adorable, but the screaming was not. The mother noticed all of us glaring and tried to ask the adult man to stop. He continued to make the kid scream and run around. I began to feel my head throbbing in pain. I blamed the mother. This was mostly the fault of the stupid adult male, but if the mother had a spine she could shut that shit down if she wanted to. They finally left when I saw my next customers. Two men and an adorable QUIET little girl. I pulled a quarter out of my pocket and made a quick transaction before helping these men out. I grabbed my container of lollipops and looked to the girl.

ME: For being so good and so quiet, you get to have a lollipop!
DAD: Ooh! What do you say?
GIRL: [in the softest whisper] Thank you!

Update: J.V.

My coworkers were pretty pleasant to be around today. I had some good conversations with JV, CRV and Gaythan toward the end of the night. JV has improved character-wise, but was still slightly arrogant. No customers were around. We were bored and JV began drumming on his counter.

ME: Are you a drummer?
JV: No.
ME: Were you ever a drummer or any kind of musician?
JV: No, but my mom teaches piano.
ME: So you grew up hearing music?
JV: Yup. If piano is the first instrument you play, it makes any other instrument easier to play.
ME: That is true, but only to a point with some students.
JV: Not true.

What the hell do I know?

ME: Can you think of any possible flaws of learning to play piano first?
 JV: There are none.
ME: Yes there are. Think.
JV: [no response]
ME: When you touch a key on a piano, a pitch WILL come out. If a student is impatient and expects sound production to be as easy on a wind instrument or when singing, that can result in problems like too much air pressure, overly tight musculature, use of unnecessary muscles, or hyper-phonation.
JV: [begins to walk away to count down his till with Patti] Percussion doesn't have to worry about that. No lungs!
ME: You are abandoning the original argument!

He disappeared behind the office doors. Eventually he left and Patti walked up to me.

ME: I think he thinks that because his mother is a musician, that he is an authority on the subject as well.  Like it's hereditary.
PATTI: [laughing] After you said the last thing you said and the door shut, [JV] said, "God! She is just like me. She always has to have the last word."

We laughed. It's true. I do always like to have the last word. I'm sure it's irritating. Nobody is perfect.