The Joys of Cashiering12:21 PM
/// cleaning public restrooms -- including getting access to the special key that unlocks the toilet paper thingie
/// walking up the aisle straightening boxes of candy. . .walking down the aisle and re-straightening the ones that magically moved when I turned my back
/// closing the cash register drawer before I gave somebody his change
/// getting a high five from a happy customer
/// being rescued from crazy customers by kind people
/// bursting into laughter with a whole line of people over a random melodramatic exit another customer makes
/// learning that certain sweet older men who call you "darling" become infuriated very quickly when the sales price doesn't ring up
/// terrifying awkward teenage males with my friendliness
/// the little kid who bought a wrestling magazine and demonstrated how he would swagger out the door
/// that awkward moment when the customer starts ranting against homosexuals like a Westboro Baptist. . .or against conservatives -- just smile and nod
/// freaking out customers by greeting them with "Welcome to Walgreens!" or popping out from behind the cash register because I'm so small
/// my favorite manager calling me on the head register phone while dealing with a scary, talkative customer: "Just smile and nod and pretend like you're having the most important conversation in your life" -- and then later, "If he ever creeps you out, just keep staring at me. I'll come over and rescue you."
/// working with all women
/// my coworker laughing at me as she sends me on a death trip-of-no-return to put away a basket full of random medicines
/// the older lady (whom I'd never, ever seen before in my life) who intercepted me with an affectionately long hug, that developed into a kiss (ack, the bad breath), and then a sincere encouragement to "keep having a good day." Well. I was having a good day. . . .
Favorite Awkward Customer Story (So Far)
/// I refused a cigarette sale to a very tall, slightly overweight young man in a blue t-shirt because he didn't have his id on hand. He threatened to go across the street to the gas station -- "And then you'd lose the sale." In the middle of my second refusal, he abruptly left. I canceled everything, put the cigarettes back, and breathed.
He came back later that day. In the same shirt-style -- but now it was red. He was buying wine. Which I also couldn't sell because I'm underage. Anyway, a manager came and rang up the sale, and right as I handed him his change, he wiped his brow and hair, leaving his palm glistening thickly with sweat.
I pulled back, gingerly gave him the money, and turned away my gaze so as not to see the dollar bills soak up human perspiration.
And then I struggled not to keel over laughing. I really do love my job.