The Epi-Prologue

Epilogue

I did what I said I would do. I added many of last summer's fellow cashiers to my Facebook. I was dying to find out where everyone was and who was doing what. None of them ever knew about the blog except for one person.

Hero

Hero quit shortly after I did. I found out that he recruited a lot of private trombone students. I shared the blog with him because he is family, a fellow brass player. He knew something fishy was going on when he noticed me writing down interaction after interaction on a strip of receipt paper.

I gave him the URL. He told me that he looks forward to finding out who he is. He may not have read it all because......

Hero had a baby with his wife!! He is a proud papa. The baby is really cute too. I'm so happy for him.

Banshee

The last time I saw Banshee she had been through a horrible ordeal. I remembered that she was pretty miserable working as a head cashier. She was basically forced to step down from the position. She eventually left. She now works for Gamestop and Einstein Bros. Bagels. She is also back in school. Life is apparently going much easier for her. She said that her lack of stress helped her to quit smoking.

Jacob

Jacob left and became a flight attendant for American Airlines. He regularly posts photos of himself in different beautiful locations. He looks pretty happy and he's still really freaking handsome. I lament his gayness.

Sally Spec  & Ryan

I think these two are still together. They are both still working at the store. Ryan moved from head cashier to grocery so he could focus on school, I think. I know Sally is thinking of leaving soon. She told me all of the cool people left and the angry old ladies were still keeping things dark on the front end. It has turned into a high school and all people do is gossip. I can understand her wanting to leave.

Gaythan

Gaythan moved back to Virginia. I imagine he is a manager at a Food Lion somewhere. I only guess that because all of his grocery anecdotes began with, "When I was an assistant manager at Food Lion..." He wasn't happy here. I imagine he moved back to VA with his boyfriend. I hope he has had more than one slow dance since last August.


JV

The know-it-all, JV, is now a head cashier. I'm not surprised. I didn't add him on Facebook. I'm not curious about what he thinks about anything. Maybe I'll add him after this summer if he has learned to chill out.


Copycat

Copycat still works at this store. She is still as awkward as I expected her to be BUT she is happy and she is finding new and interesting ways to talk to people. I think that is pretty cool. I hope people are being kind to her.

Crazy Red Head Vegan

CRV dyed her hair BLUE and joined a nutrition business in town. She schedules her own hours and seems to be doing well. She posts a different but similar photo of her boot camp group every week. She speaks bitterly about her former cashier job and I imagine she is still crazy.


Prologue 

Nine months of trumpet teaching at a university and choral directing at a church, a totaled car, and many a bill for student loans later here I am, seeking employment for the summer. I debated putting in applications in many different places but at the same time I couldn't get my last conversation with Emmy out of my head.

EMMY: Good luck with your new job! We want you to know that for whatever reason if you want to come back you are 100% rehireable!
ME: How is that possible?
EMMY: We like you!

If this was true, if I was eligible for rehire, I could very easily be employed right away. I checked the store's website. There were no cashier positions available. I went ahead and gave Emmy a call. After I inquired about being rehired, her reply was:

EMMY: OH MY GOD YES WE'LL HIRE YOU!!

I'm pretty tickled that they hired me even though they don't need me. Another bonus? I could continue this blog! Since last summer, I have been desperately seeking something to write about. I started many other blogs, but no subject has been as fun as American people and how they treat others.

What If Nothing Happens?

I asked myself this many times. Maybe nothing new goes down. Maybe my coworkers are all gossip queens that I will be too annoyed with to write about. Maybe my customer interactions will all be boring and uneventful. Maybe I would just work this summer job and forget about blogging.

Then this happens on my first visit back to the store:

Update: O.C. Daisy

I almost didn't acknowledge her when I walked in but it was too late. She looked at me and she knew I saw her so I waved politely.  

DAISY: Heyyyy Darlin'! I was so happy to hear that you're coming back!
ME: Aww! I'm happy to BE back!

Ugggggggh.

Why the saccharine exchange? Why do you have to lie Daisy? We ended things peacefully last August yet I can't help but think that the minute I walk out the door, she is going to talk shit about me. Daisy is officially on social probation. I would be stupid to think she is a nice person now, but I also do hope that she is actually nice. I'm prepared for the worst here. Damn my optimism.

Daisy pointed me to the office and she said she would page management to meet me there.


Update: Grumpy Gill

Gill walks in the office to say hi. His greeting was warm, cheerful and not grumpy at all! He told me the store is busier than it has ever been. Maybe that's why he is a happy manager. He said it gets pretty crazy. I am pretty excited about that. Never a dull moment. I only worry that I will not be able to jot down notes like I used to. I do have a handheld digital voice recorder. I may need to bust that out and take notes down Captain Kirk style.  

Update: Roz

I was to meet Roz for filling out paperwork. She asked if I was going to just be in for the summer. I plan to leave after summer if I can get a private studio going in addition to teaching at the university and working at t he church. I do need to buy a new car. I honestly don't know what the hell I am going to do. I shared with Roz how I also have to take care of a house and two dogs. At the mention of dogs, she lit up.

ROZ: Oh I LOVE dogs.  They are so sweet and the love unconditionally.
ME: Right? There is nothing they want more in this world, than to be pet on the head.

She asked me what kind of dogs I have. I gladly shared this information.

ROZ: You know, if I could do it all over again, I would have NO children.

Wow. Hold on.

ME: [nervous laughter] Are your children aware of this?
ROZ: They aren't aware of much.

Roz just cursed her children's existence. This is gold. She walked out to get me two new ugly green t-shirts. While she was gone, I grabbed the nearest blank sheet of paper to jot down what I had just heard. Roz came back and I had to go through the signing of papers, one after the other. She emphatically threw down the attendance and the tardiness policy agreement. She laughed, I laughed. She said the attendance policy is new, a point system (NOT new). If I am late 9 times, my employment will be terminated. I laughed again. I did tell her that I planned to be punctual this summer.

That remains to be seen.

Day Twenty Nine

Zombie Sunday

After hours of working at the church this morning I made my way to the store to start my shift as a cashier. I forgot how much I used to look forward to a nap on Sunday afternoons. Waking up four hours before I sing, singing one or two services, being pleasant, friendly and helpful to everyone I meet and then busting ass trying to prepare a season of music for a choir...there is no amount of coffee that can keep me going after that. I stopped by the local Starbucks and get a latte anyway. I would hate for any of my customers to be a victim of my sleep deprived wrath. The latte ended up not helping. Maybe the Starbucks baristas were out to sabotage me by slipping me a decaf...

...monsters.

Emmy

I decided to give our manager, Emmy, a month's notice that I was going to quit. Upon hearing that I was going to be a trumpet prof. her eyes lit up. Apparently, Emmy also plays the trumpet. She played from middle school to high school, "Seven years total," she said with pride. She has a family full of instrumentalists. They get together at Christmastime and play carols.

EMMY: We have to play trumpet together sometime!! Do you know Johnny Be Good?
ME: Not really.
EMMY: [GASP] You don't know JOHNNY BE GOOD!?! [she proceeds to sing the trumpet part from, no doubt, an old marching band arrangement, pretending to hold up a trumpet] I still have my lyre that I used to read music from!

I didn't feel like telling her that I could play or transcribe any melody by ear. I didn't feel like telling her I mostly play classical and jazz music on a considerably more advanced level than that. At first I thought she couldn't differentiate the professional from the amateur, but I still couldn't bring myself to educate her.

EMMY: We SO have to play trumpet together. We'll play Johnny Be Good.
ME: Sure!

I truly do not believe that Emmy thinks the dichotomy in musical ability lies in whether you can play Johnny Be Good or not. I think she was just excited that we have a love of playing trumpet in common. After all, she plays for fun and I admire anyone who plays for fun, young or old. Playing a musical instrument is a special, wonderful thing to be able to do, no matter the ability level.

Updates:

J.V. continues to improve socially. Today we had a pleasant conversation about how tired I am.

I had a customer walk up who was wearing a military dog tag. Banshee was standing nearby. We talked about this customer's grandfather's service in WWII. Pretty cool. After he left I turned to Banshee and told her I have a dog tag on which I have been wanting to engrave the phrase, "Keep your feet on the ground, when your head is in the clouds." I want this phrase or a similar phrase engraved in a French translation because I think French is a beautiful language. She told me she studied French for years and would help me find a translation. Lately Banshee has become more fun. She still yells in an unpleasant fashion and I almost always wish I had a pair of earplugs whenever she pages anyone. She is starting to look pregnant again and maybe she is in a happy mood because of that. I dare not actually ask her if she's pregnant. Most pregnant women don't want to talk about pregnancy until they are ready to announce it. Sometimes they are not actually pregnant.

I found that a lot of people can't stand Copycat. People try to talk shit about her to me but I will never hear it. It seems that almost none of my coworkers have the patience to work alongside someone with autism. She has become more brave. Now she stops by everyone's till to wave goodbye, not just mine. Half the time she will say bye, wave and stay there at your till until you stop, look right back at her and say, "Goodbye Cat! Have a great evening!" Sometimes, she will then again say goodbye and you just have to stop and say goodbye to her again. This is not hard. I will seriously bite off the head of the next person who complains about her to me.

Apparently Crazy Red Head Vegan did not break up with her boyfriend.

CRV: My boyfriend and I went down to Dallas last night.
ME: Whoa, whoa, whoa...You're back together with him?
CRV: Yeah, I don't think we actually ever broke up.
ME: What...

I thought of all of the energy I spent trying to cheer her up or cover for her that one day she told me they split up. I felt highly annoyed as I do whenever I am the irrational bitch friend who consoles any of my freshly dumped, low self esteemed friends with wine, chocolate, kleenex and the general recovery slogan, "Fuck that guy, he's an asshole!"--only to find that they run back to the dickhead days later. From that point on, I made a point to never invest much of my mind or ear to CRV's drama. She later talked about her mother, about how she sits at home all day and does nothing, about how with her dad, she gives her mom tons of money and all she does is online shop. The mom doesn't help clean or cook and doesn't have a job. I didn't care. A lot of CRV's stories are sounding like tall tales and exaggerations.

Last but not least, I heard that O.C.Daisy possibly broke her foot. I can't say I feel sorry for her. I'm sure her foot hurts, but I was happy that I wouldn't have to see her for several days. It's hard to feel bad for or support someone who is mean to you. I was too tired to be a better person.

Day Twenty

Charity

A man came into my line. He bought mostly vegetables, some fruit and a loaf of bread. He held back a bag of cherries until I hit the total key. They were pretty cheap, $1.69 per pound, but the total was more than the customer had. He opened his hands to show me how much money he had. He didn't have enough for all of the cherries. After some math, I figured out that if this man had less than half the cherries he currently had he would be able to walk out with a few cents change. As I was about to empty out half of the bag, the woman that followed him in line dropped a ten dollar bill on my counter.

LADY: Stop. I've got the rest.
ME: Are you sure?
MAN: [with a look of relief and surprise] Oh thank you. Thank you so much.
LADY: My pleasure.

Charity. It wasn't just a few cents this woman gave, but several dollars. The man was so incredibly grateful. I gave him his receipt and he walked away, thanking this woman one more time. I wondered if he had children to feed or if those groceries were his food for a week. Either way, he needed that fruit and was relieved that this woman helped him out. It was a beautiful thing to see.

As I began to check out the charitable woman's groceries, I looked down and noticed a bag that I forgot to give that man, the bag with the cherries. Without saying a word, I grabbed them and bolted out of the store and into the parking lot. This was not the first time this had happened, but of the few times I have forgotten to hand a customer his or her bag, this was worst time. I ran everywhere looking for him, but I never found him. He must have been in a rush. I walked back in with my head down and tears began to fall. How could I screw this up? I hated myself for it.

I gave an apology to the selfless woman, to which she replied, "Don't worry, I know that man. He waits tables at a restaurant down the road. I will take the cherries to his workplace. If he isn't there, I'll show up the next day."

Miracle of miracles. I was so relieved to have not completely ruined this woman's generous gesture.


Granbury

Several customers come in from far away towns. They usually bring in freezer bags to store cold food for their hour-plus drive home.

ME: So, where are you coming from?
LADY: [while stuffing her freezer bag] I'm from Granbury. We don't have any store like this in that town.
ME: An old college friend of mine who came from there. He is currently the principal trombonist of the Zurich Opera House Orchestra.
LADY: Ooh!
ME: Yeah, people like to tell me that no one comes from Granbury but they are wrong.
LADY: You're darn right they are wrong. Chewbacca lives in Granbury.
ME: What?

I immediately imagined a furry giant walking around a rural town.

LADY: The actor who played Chewbacca, Peter Mayhew, lives in Granbury, TX. I see him at the coffee shop sometimes. It's exciting.
ME: Wow. I thought my friend was the biggest thing to come out of Granbury.
LADY: There are lots of people who come from Granbury. I'm a published author. My book is about to be sold on Amazon.
ME: What is your book about?
LADY: It is a book on how to teach children and adults with Dyslexia.

She handed me her card. Her name is Gloria Stringer and her book is called The Dyslexia Tutor. She tells her own story about her own child on her website, about how her method has helped her daughter succeed. I hoped that her books would help many other adults and kids. She may not be Chewbacca, but she does make Granbury look good.

Enabler

An old woman came through my line with hot dogs and buns.

ME: So are you grilling tonight?
LADY: [Annoyed] No, I came here to get these hot dogs for my husband. If he wants hot dogs he should come here and get them himself instead of expecting me to leave the house and them every time.
ME: You know you are enabling his behavior by coming here, right?
LADY: I know, I am but he's been pulling that handicapped card long enough.

Damn.

Handicapped how? Was he disabled as in "no use of his legs" disabled or "no peripheral vision" disabled? I didn't ask. Obviously this woman was fed up of her husband. Was she sick of helping, feeling burdened or was it that her husband was simply ungrateful? Maybe she was selfish or maybe she was mad that this favor was keeping her from a riveting game of canasta. It could be any of these things. For whatever reason, that couple was in an unhealthy situation.

Word of Advice:

A good way to creep me out is by stating my name at the end of every sentence. I mean EVERY sentence. It also doesn't help if you look like Dr.Frankenstein's assistant and smile with your eyes wide open. In fact, if I carry out your entire transaction without looking at your face, you are most likely creeping me out.

Ill Crazy Red-Head Vegan

CRV has been sick lately. Very sick. She constantly has to call in or leave in the middle of work. I asked her what was wrong. My first instinct was that she had an iron or B12 deficiency. She told me she takes plenty of daily vitamins. Her doctor is a homeopathic and holistic physician. CRV ran me through several reasons for why she could be feeling this way. She said she was weak. There were poop issues. Makes sense. Much of the immune system is in the digestive tract.

ME: [in the break room with CRV] Have you thought about getting a colonoscopy?
CRV: I don't think that's it. I don't know if I want to do that.
[OCDaisy walks in, opens the fridge and grabs her lunch bag]
CRV: I just feel sick all of the time.
OCDAISY: You're a vegan, that's why you're sick. [she walks out]
ME: Nobody asked you Daisy. Now go brush your tooth.

Racist Crazy Red-Head Vegan

CRV felt better as the day went along. I was working next to Hero and CRV came over to bag groceries. We all somehow got on the topic of racism with a grocery worker.

CRV: I'm not racist, but I do stereotype. I will admit it. For example, why do foreign people show up ten minutes before closing time?
GROCERY GUY: Right?
ME: Are you serious? I think several different types of people show up late. I think you find that the most memorable of them, to you, are foreigners. You can't make generalizations like that.
CRV: I know. Look, I am not racist. I have a black boyfriend. Everyday I bring him home a watermelon and he'll be sittin' there with fried chicken just having at it, so he is definitely black.

I looked at Hero, Hero looked at me. We both sighed a deep sigh for humanity.

Stereotyping is the "gateway hatred" for racism. You can't say shit like, "My boyfriend's black," "My best friend is Afghani," or "I'm one sixth Mexican," and then proceed to stereotype, generalize about a group of people or insult whole races of humans and then go around wearing t-shirts with Gandhi quotes on them, acting like you're a fucking saint.

This is precisely why the world will never be in peace. Too many assholes. I wanted to slap the shit out of CRV but then I thought about how many people I know who talk exactly like she does. If I slapped her, I would have to slap many others. I just chose to be silent for the time being.

I don't understand racism. What if we all stopped to think about how much we have in common, the most simple and humble trait being the need for food and water to survive. Why can't that be enough to understand we are no different from each other? Frustrating. If stereotyping or racism caused us to go deaf and blind, how many of us would be left with all five of our senses? Sometimes I think the world would be a better place with more deaf and blind people in it.

Update: JV

I told other coworkers about JV losing his shit the other day. They told me to let it go but I couldn't. I really felt the need to figure out what this guy's problem was. I couldn't just chalk it up to his being 20 years young. I know plenty of people that age that can keep composure and not be a jerk. Hmm...

I was on a break, waiting in CRV's line to buy some food. She had made a paper bag puppet earlier and wrote "escuchar" on it. I told her that she needed to conjugate that word and make it a command.

ME: I think it's "escuche" with an accent on the last e.
JV: Escuche? I...think that commands follow the usted form with an accent on the last vowel.
ME: I think you're right. Write escucha. Throw in some exclamation points.

So, JV knows Spanish. Smart guy.

Smart guy...

That's it. JV is smart. He wants someone (or everyone) to acknowledge how smart he is. That's why he shouts out correct codes all of the time. That's why he constantly wants to find my solution before I do. He only started to treat me better once he found out I read Vonnegut. He likes intelligent conversation. Bingo!

Well, who doesn't like intelligent conversation? I understand that I'm not going to get that from everyone I meet here. I would drive myself insane expecting such a thing. I tend to join conversations where they are. That is where JV's youth gets him. He doesn't tolerate conversation that isn't intelligent. He can't seem to stand it when everyone else isn't at his speed. That's too bad. He will do well in his career, whatever that will be, no doubt. The only sad thing is, he is on a fast train to Doucheville. I think I will try to find out more about him. He probably took a million AP classes. I wonder what he wants to do with his life. I'm sure he was a straight A student. From here, I hope I can find the best version of this guy.

Day Nineteen

Red Hat Lady

An older woman was buying a lot of dessert ingredients. Crazy Red-Head Vegan was bagging groceries for me. I noticed the older lady's t-shirt had a picture of a red hat on it.


ME: Who are the 'Red Hat Ladies'?
CRV: [Giant gasp] Oh my god. Who are the 'Red Hat Ladies'?! They are a group of women who get together and do fun stuff and they're all sassy!
ME: [to the lady] Do you all wear red hats to your meetings?
LADY: Yes we all have our own red hats.
ME: When you all get together do you get really fancy schmancy?
LADY: Some of us do, I like to. I like to wear a lot of rhinestones, I call them my diamonds.
ME:What do you all do?
LADY: Once a month we get together and do something fun. I'm making desserts for our dinner this week. This last month we all took a painting class together. Sometimes we go dancing.
ME: Sounds like a blast!
LADY: Oh yes. It's a really fun group of women over 50. If a women is sad about turning 50 and thinks her life is over, um hello?! It's not!

As silly as it sounds, I kind of want to buy my red hat now. Do I have to wait until I'm 50 to do this? Would the ladies be weirded out having a 30 year old hanging with them? Old ladies are a riot.

Not A Green Guy

Crazy Red-Head Vegan came over again to bag groceries for me. A man came up with one food item to buy.

MAN: [as I bagged the one item] No bag please.
CRV: You're saving the planet!
MAN: No I'm NOT.

Erm...okay. I shot CRV a wide eyed look. He continued.

MAN: I'm NOT a green guy. Nobody can tell me what I can and cannot do.
ME: ...okay.
MAN: I was just at Kohls. They now have a plug in station for electric cars. I want to put up a time lapse camera to see how many people actually need that thing. I bet you no one uses it.
ME: I imagine it would be very useful in the case of an emergency.
MAN: I doubt that.

So, he didn't want to waste a bag, but he would waste his time with a time lapse camera in front of Kohls? I really wanted to thank that guy for giving me and the vegan something to laugh about.

Update: JV

I worked next to JV today. My Vonnegut book was sitting on my side of our counter and he picked it up to read the back of the book.

ME: Do you like Vonnegut?
JV: I have read two of his novels, Cat's Cradle and Slaughterhouse Five.
ME: Cool. Cat's Cradle is next on my list after this book (Breakfast of Champions).

Customers came along and cut our conversation short. A mom and her son walked up. The kid was wearing a soccer uniform.

ME: So, you play soccer? 
BOY: Yes.
ME: What position do you play?
BOY: Um...defense.
ME: So, are you a fullback?
JV: I don't think he has gotten to that point yet.
MOM: We are a soccer family.
JV: What's your favorite team?
MOM: Manchester U
JV: Agh, we're enemies.

The mom kept talking to JV about teams as I zoned out thinking about shirtless professional soccer players with their six pack abs and chiseled jawlines. I think I might have returned to the transaction when it was time to pay. JV had customers to tend to at that point. This guy had improved as a coworker. I also learned that he likes soccer and Kurt Vonnegut. Every now and then he would still give me the numbers to random food items I was looking up. I just ignored him. Today I noticed how much conversation he makes with customers. It was pretty good except for the fact that he seemed to shout his greetings at his customers like they are all a broken intercom at a drive thru.

A customer walked up with an empty jar from the bulk section. I wasn't sure if it was a pint jar or a quart jar. I could have deduced what it is by looking at the size of it, but I wasn't sure. I thought it might be a pint. CRV, bagging again and not doing her job as a cashier, thought it was a pint as well. JV turns around and says it is a quart. We all went back and forth with it until I finally decided it was a quart. After the customer left, CRV walked back to the bulk section an came back to tell me that that particular jar was in the 'pint' shelf. I hit JV on the shoulder lightly.

ME: Man, it was a pint!
JV: Have you ever seen a pint of ice cream? Was it the size of that jar? I don't think so.

More customers came through and when one of mine left I turned around and told JV:

ME: I think you should go to the bulk section and see that it was a pint and we should settle this little debate.
JV: [as customers walked up] I'm not participating in this ridiculous argument, I know what a quart is.
CRV: Dude! I went back there and checked. The label said it was a pint.

That was when JV grabbed one of this customer's food jars (similar to the empty one we saw previously) and whipped around, holding this jar one foot from CRV's face.

JV: [shouting, with his customer still standing there] 32 FLUID OUNCES, THIS IS A QUART!!

After jabbing the jar at the bottom where it said "quart" JV turned around to finish the transaction. Once again, I shot CRV a wide eyed look.

ME: [under my breath] You mad, bro?
CRV: Right?

After that customer left it was time for JV to clock out. CRV, still stood there in disbelief that someone could lose their shit over something so silly. As soon as he left and was out of earshot, I grabbed a jar of organic lollipops and whipped around holding it a foot from CRV's face.

ME: THIS IS A QUART!!!

Laughter. We laughed for so long a time that tears were running down our faces and our stomachs hurt. JV's irrational, juvenile anger brought us so much joy. At the end of my shift I went back to the empty jars in the bulk section to learn that CRV was right and so was JV. Those jars were on the pint shelf, but they were put there in the wrong place by a customer. Behind those jars were the real pint jars and the quart jars (like the one we argued over) was on another mislabeled shelf. I wish I knew who screwed this shelf up. I would thank that person for the memories.

Day Eight

It's time for the 72 hour sale! This was pure madness. So many people came through my line that I didn't have time to talk to most of them. Two cashier contests were in effect. One was to sell French bread. Whoever sold the most would get a $30 gift card. The other contest was to sign up customers for our store's mailing list. Whoever signed up the most people would win a $50 gift card. Some people were really into it. I was when I started signing people up on the wrong day, one week ago. Not now. I think I'll act like I care whenever the manager walks by.

JV

JV was probably a junior varsity quarterback in high school. He has a "former high school athlete" vibe. When I first met him I kind of expected him to be one of those turds who say, "Dude, bro," all of the time but he surprised me. He was polite and mature. He probably loves and respects his mother. When we trained together I saw the year he was born on his application, while we were signing papers. He was born in 1992. He is practically a fetus.

We got to work next to each other today. It was fun at first, but then I noticed that whenever a customer would ask me a question, he would be quick to answer it for me. Okay...

So then I noticed whenever I was looking up a code for some obscure fruit or vegetable, he would lean over to see what I was trying to find, then he would tell me the number. Again, I will not learn a code if I don't look them up myself. Maybe he will notice my ignoring him...

Then when someone told me to page the manager, JV told me how to page, what buttons to push and what to say.  I joked, saying, "Ok boss," whenever he would be bossy, but he didn't seem to understand that he was pissing me off.

What the hell was this kid's problem? How is it possible that anyone could be worse the Pedantic Joe and Elvira put together?! Disappointing. By now everyone else has left me alone and figured I knew what I was doing. Is pissing me off a rite of passage at this frickin' store? I will find a peaceful way to make him aware of how he acts. This is better than having to punch him in the larynx so that the only person he can talk to is himself.

Old Man #3

ME: How are you doing today?
OLD MAN: [old man voice, with a heavy New York accent] I'm here, that is all I can say.
ME: [after ringing up his groceries] That will be $16.14.
OLD MAN: $16.14! That's practically nothing! I should have just ran outta here!
ME: We would have never caught you.

He was on a walker.

Observation:

Women who carry Louis Vuitton purses do not give a shit about coupons. They also are not very talkative, they just want you to ring up their items so they don't have to be among commoners for too long. For the record, I hate blatant insignia as a pattern. Any woman who can afford Vuitton should just wait another paycheck (or allowance) and hold out for Prada. I did notice that women who carry Coach or Dooney & Bourke purses are more friendly and responsive. Still, they are ugly expensive purses. Just an observation.
 
Doin' the Don't

This lady was third in line when I first heard her scolding her toddler. The store was pretty busy at the moment. Her child was screaming and grabbing for everything he could, candy, French bread, lollipops, you name it. This mom was yelling at her kid to behave, but the boy wouldn't chill out. I decided to move faster on my current customer just to get the fussy child and yelling mother out of earshot. When the mom rolled her cart up, I saw a bottle in the child's right hand, a more than half empty 20 oz. bottle of Mountain Dew. Mother of the year, folks.

Caught

Sally Spec walks up to my register and picks up a strip of receipt paper, the paper that holds all of the notes to the current day's blog entry.

SALLY: [holding my notes] Is this about the customers? Who is JV?
ME: It's not always about the customers, sometimes I make up characters.
SALLY: Oh. [hands me my notes]

Holy shit. Too close. None of the people at work know I write this blog and none of them are my Facebook friends. If a few of them saw what I have written so far they probably wouldn't dig it. Thank goodness I write on the receipt paper with people's nicknames. What I write about anyone is not my fully formed opinion of a person, but how I happen to experience him or her that day. I think everyone I work with has the capacity to be a better person no matter how much they might have pissed me off in the first eight days. I will keep my notes in my back pocket from now on.