Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Lesson #1: It's Rude to Point

We sell cigars. All different kinds of them. Our display kind of looks like this:

Yes, that's right. There are millions of them.

I don't smoke cigars, so sometimes it makes it a little difficult to find a certain kind when a customer asks for one.

But when they do the finger pointing thing, that's when I get annoyed.

Here is what I see:

followed by: "I'll take that one right there."

I turn to see where their finger is pointing, and all I see is this:

I turn back towards them and they are still trying to point me in the right direction of the little tiny cigar they want:

It gets a little confusing sometimes.

So then I ask them which brand they want, because to me, it's easier to tell me the name of what you want instead of me trying to guess where your stupid finger is pointing.

But instead of telling me the name, they start giving me directions.

"It's two over from the last one on the end but three rows up from that."


So please, when you want to purchase something that there are a million brands of such as a cigar, just tell the cashier the name of what you want or we will be pointing our finger at you next time.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

The After Holiday Blues

I hate going to work the day after a holiday.


Because then I have to answer a million questions that are all the same: "How was your Thanksgiving?"

At the beginning of the day I start out all smiley telling customers how my Thanksgiving was. By the middle of the day I give shorter answers but ask them how theirs was so I don't have to talk much.

By the end of my shift I'm giving one-word answers, and not even asking them how theirs was.

It's not the customers fault (this time), I just get tired of answering the same questions all day long.

It's like when I say 'Good morning' to people and I hear 'What's so good about it?'. I hear that about a thousand times a day, too.

It's gotten so that I just say 'Morning' to people just so I don't have to hear that comment.

It doesn't help that I hate the holidays too. I hate having to be all smiles during the Christmas season. And Christmas music? Don't even get me started on it.

I hate a lot of things, don't I?

Monday, November 22, 2010

Air Machine Woes

I really hate old people sometimes.

This old man came in the other day yelling about our air machine.

Old Fart: "Is there something wrong with your air machine? Because it's supposed to last three minutes and it sure as hell didn't because I didn't have time to fill up my tires."

Inwardly I rolled my eyes. This guy was so old it probably took him three minutes to just bend down.

Me: No, I haven't heard anybody tell us anything was wrong with it.

So instead of responding to me, he turns to my mom, who just happened to be visiting at the time.

Old Fart: You need to fix your air machine. Air used to be free here and now you charge 75 cents!!!

Me: That's because people kept breaking the machine so we hired a company that provides the air now. We don't have anything to do with it.

Well this guy wasn't going to listen to anything. He kept yelling at my mom, who DOESN'T EVEN WORK THERE.

Me: Do you want me to give you 75 cents of my own money to put into the machine?

I figured the asshole would say no.

Old Fart: Yes.

So I dug into my purse, found 75 cents and told him to follow me outside. He started back up with his complaining.

Old Fart: You know, in my day air didn't cost anything and we could fill our tires up as much as we wanted.

I put the 75 cents into the machine and turned to him. "You know what? I put my own money in here so you'd stop complaining, so please, just fill up your tires and leave," I said as I stormed away.

I don't get what part of "We have nothing to do with the air machine" he didn't understand. And why was he yelling at my mom? He's lucky I didn't punch him in his wrinkly old ball sack.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Educating the Customers

Another day, another douchebag.

I can't stand when customers pick on my co-workers.

The other day this regular customer walks in. I don't like him just because there's something about him that pisses me off.

So he comes in the store with another man that I've never seen before. The mystery man is talking to my co-worker and asking her questions:

Mystery Man: Did you graduate high school? (Like it's any of his business)

Co-worker: No.

So the regular customer pipes up: See, she's what you call a drop-out. You're a high school drop-out. You won't get any better job than this one.

Sadly, I wasn't there when this happened. If I was, I probably would have told him to go fuck himself with his high school diploma.

Unfortunately, we get this all the time. Customers always think it's their business to find out how far we've gotten with our education. And when I tell them I have a Bachelor's Degree, they ask "why the hell do you work here then?" or "What, you couldn't get a better job than this one?"

My answer? "None of your business."

And this is why when you get home those Twinkies you bought are smashed.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Applying to Cashier School

A lot of people talk about how cashiers should learn this or that at something called "cashier school". If I happen to make a mistake while ringing up a customer, they will think they are being funny by asking me why I wasn't taught that in cashier school.

Who the fuck would go to a cashier school?

Yes, I know they are only joking. I know there is no such thing as cashier school. But still. It's pretty rude. For one, we know we have shitty jobs, so you don't need to rub it in our faces by joking about a cashier school. I know how to count. I made something called a MISTAKE.

Two, most of the time we are just thrown into our jobs on the first day, having to fend for ourselves. We have to deal daily with people degrading us, picking on us, yelling at us to make themselves feel better, and even cleaning up after people. Trust me, no cashier gets paid enough to clean up the shit (literally!) that people leave behind.

Third, nobody can be taught everything there is to know in order to make every customer happy. That, and we just don't care enough.

Do you think we really want to hear your stupid jokes about attending a cashier school because we don't do something the correct way according to you? Every time you say that, you're calling us stupid. You're just too much of a pussy to say what you really mean.

How about this: If we aren't being openly rude to you, just let us do our jobs and shut the fuck up.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Double Counting Money

Whenever a customer hands me money, I always recount it in front of them before I put it in the register. There have been way too many times that I immediately threw a $5 or $10 bill into the register only to have the customer tell me they gave me a larger bill.

So now, I count everything out. Especially when a customer hands me $15 in $1 bills.

One of our regulars came in the other day buying beer. His total was $14.75 and he handed me 15 $1 bills. I started counting them.

Customer: Oh, I guess you don't trust me, so you have to recount it.

Me: I recount everything, it has nothing to do with trusting you or anything.

Customer: It's all there, you don't have to count it.

Me: Yes, I do.

Customer: So you don't trust me then.

Me: No, I guess I don't.

Customer: Well maybe I should shop at a place where I'm trusted.

Me: Are you serious? You're getting mad because I'm recounting your money to double check that it's all there?

Customer: Well I wouldn't lie to you.

Me: You know what, next time don't pay me in singles.

What does he expect really? Do people think I will take their word for how much money they give me and just let them walk out the door?

Does anyone have any idea how much money people short us? Tons of people will throw bills or coins on the counter, yell out how much gas they want, and leave the store. While we're counting it we discover that they short-changed us.

Let your cashier take the extra time to count out your money. Who knows, maybe you gave the cashier too much money and they will give it back to you. Or not. If you rush out of the store and you gave me $1 too much or something, I'm not running outside to you after you didn't even have the courtesy to wait around for me to count it.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Sticking Up for the Drunks

I worked night shift the other night and you know what makes me mad?

Well, pretty much everything, but this is specific.

When I see a drunk person drive up and walk into the store, one that can barely stand and is wobbling all over the place, I will call the cops on them.

It doesn't bother me one bit if you are drunk and have someone else driving you. It's if you are driving yourself and are in my store buying more beer. Or even cigarettes. Or anything. You shouldn't drive drunk. Period.

But what really gets me is the other customers in the store. If I'm on the phone with the police, calling this drunk in, some customers will tell me to "give the guy a break" or "that's mean, why call the cops on him?"

I'm trying to get the damn drunk off the road. I don't think these customers would like it if this drunk asshole killed someone in their family. It just pisses me off sometimes that people butt in like that and try sticking up for a drunk driver.

It still doesn't deter me from calling the cops though. I just wish I could tell them to mind their own fucking business.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Giving Back Change

Kathy over at The Junk Drawer brought up an interesting topic yesterday.

When giving back change, she urges cashiers all over the world to make sure they place the coins in the customer's hand BEFORE the bills are handed over. Why? Because many people spill their coins all over the place while attempting to put them in their purse or pockets.

So I asked myself what I usually do in this situation and whether or not I was guilty of what Kathy had described. And I realized that I DO give customers their coins first before their bills. The ones I like, at least.

When someone pisses me off, I tend to throw it all in their hand at once, causing the coins to spill all over the place. A little "Oops, sorry" along with my winning smile keeps me innocent and unsuspecting.

But I'd like to ask all customers out there to make it easy for us cashiers.

If you want your coins handed back to you, make sure you don't already have a ton of shit in your hand where we have to carefully place the coins in your hand. We don't want to touch you, we just want to be able to drop the coins into your open palm. If you are holding stuff in that hand, it makes us hard to drop the coins. Me, I do it anyways, and watch as the coins drop onto your keys and then onto the floor. Why? Because you shouldn't have had so much crap in your hands when I handed back your change.

If we can both work together here, I think we could end up with a wonderful relationship.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Customers and T-Shirts

Working at a gas station, I basically have to make sure I wear plain shirts with no pictures or writing on them. Why? Because every single customer will make a comment about it.

Here's a typical scenario:

Me: Good morning, sir. How can I help you?

Customer: *peering at my t-shirt* Old Navy...what's that? Are you in the military?

Me: Umm, no. It's a t-shirt from a store called Old Navy.

Customer: Well why is there a picture of a tree on it?

Me: I don't know, I just bought it like that.

Customer: *peering again* Old Navy...with a tree. That's weird.

Me: *wishing I was anywhere but here*

Usually I think the male customers 'pretend' to read my t-shirt so that they can take a glance at my boobs. Whatever they are doing, it makes me feel all dirty and violated when they look at my shirt.

So I've learned to wear plain shirts and sweaters, because 9 out of 10 customers will make comments about them.

I should get one made that says something like 'Stop staring at my tits, you pervert" or "Just buy your shit and get out" or "STOP STARING AT ME".

Hmm, I may be on to something here. What else could I get on a t-shirt to get my message across?

Thursday, November 4, 2010


Halloween was pretty much uneventful at the store this weekend. There is one thing I don't understand though that happens every year.

Some people get so pissed off that we won't sell them alcohol or cigarettes if they are wearing a mask or face paint.

Why would someone get mad about this? The cashier obviously can't see your face to tell if you're old enough. What are we supposed to do, use our x-ray vision?

It's usually the teens that get the angriest at us. We had a girl come in on Halloween that started yelling at my co-worker because he wouldn't sell her beer. She had a devil costume on complete with red facepaint.

She told us that we should have had a sign on the door specifying to take off masks or facepaint or else she wouldn't have come in. She looked 12 in her slutty devil outfit. After she left I put a sign on the door, but we still had people come in getting mad about having to take off their masks.

I honestly wish that everyone in the world was required to get a job in customer service at least once in their lives. That way they would understand how horrible working with the public can be.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Another Bathroom Story

I was working the other day when a lady came in.

"Can I use the bathroom?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, it's out of order."

"Out of order? I've had to go since yesterday. What am I supposed to do now?"


She turned and walked out of the store.

What the hell was that? She had to go since yesterday? Yeah, like I was really going to let her use it after hearing that. Who knows what kind of load she was going to drop in there.

I can't tell if she was lying to get me to feel bad, or if she was really telling the truth. Has she been walking into gas stations since yesterday waiting for one that will let her use it?

Shouldn't she be going home by now to use her own toilet?

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