In the first installment of Tales From the Cash Register, I told some of the stories from my time working at a certain Home Improvement Warehouse. Today I'll share stories from my time working at a health food store and a fast food joint. :)

This Isn't Safeway, Ma'am

So one day at the health food store I had a lady try and return a product that was the Safeway house brand - that is, a generic, store-specific brand label that is ONLY sold at Safeway stores. We were not Safeway. We were A Store That Got Bought Out By Whole Paycheck (which then got bought out by Amazon... ). So I told the lady this.

Becky insisted that she had bought it with us because it was health food. I informed her that indeed, other stores sold health food and that was a Safeway brand, it couldn't have come from us. She insisted I was wrong. I asked her to go and find it anywhere in our store if she was so sure. She said she shouldn't have to, because I should know what products we sold. I told her I did, which is how I knew that WE DIDN'T SELL THIS SHIT, BECKY.

Literally, Safeway was within walking distance of us. She just didn't want to admit she was wrong.

So woman continues to escalate to a screaming lather until my manager shows up and tells me to GIVE HER A RETURN THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO PROCESS BECAUSE WE DON'T SELL THAT SHIT. I told him if he wanted to do a pretend return and make someone's drawer short, he had to do it on his own drawer, because I wasn't taking that nonsense. So he did.

Have I mentioned that I hate when managers give in to customer's bullshit that is totally the stinkiest bullshit ever in the history of bullshit? Just grow a spine and say no, y'all. Make Becky walk (or more likely, drive) down the block to Safeway.

not us

Parents Who Shouldn't Really Be Parents, Part II

If you thought the story about the seven year old who had climbed twenty feet up on the shelves full of wood couldn't be topped, or that such dangerous shenanigans could only be had in a warehouse, oooooooh no, young Bucky. You'd be wrong.

So I'm checking out an entirely unrelated customer at my register near the front of the store when suddenly, I see a toddler - yes, a toddler, who was two, maybe three years old, tops - run out the front door at a breakneck speed with no adult in sight giving chase. So I told my customer sorry and ran out after him.

I literally caught up to the kid right in front of an SUV coming down the "road" within the parking lot at 20ish mph that probably didn't see him, because he was a foot and a half tall - waving my hands at them and taking the child's hand. The SUV driver was probably wondering why an employee in an apron was chasing after a kid, or perhaps they didn't, but at least they stopped.

I got back inside the store with the baby expecting to see a frantic parent, but no - still no parent to be seen. The queue was getting long since I was the only cashier, but luckily my manager had showed up to find out WTF was happening because of the line, and opened up his register and took over my customer so I could go find the toddler's parent(s).

Once again, Mom* was all the way in the back of the store, oblivious to the fact that her TODDLER wasn't anywhere near her.

Dear parents: you do know that those seats in the front of carts with leg holes expressly exists for you to put your squirmy toddlers in, right? It's not a purse shelf. But oh no, Karen thought it was a purse shelf, and didn't even look up from her product she was examining when I told her where I had found her kid.

I kindly asked the kid to stay with mommy, which he said he'd do, and prayed to the old Gods and the new that he'd make it to adulthood alive, since, you know, obviously his mom didn't care.

*title given only as a technicality.

Parents Who Shouldn't Be Parents, Part III

Oh yes, there's more, and the baby is even YOUNGER this time!

You know how people get angry about people leaving their dogs in the car on a hot summer day because they can die of heat stroke really quickly since cars get hotter than the outside super fast?

Oh yes.

Susan left her newborn in the carseat inside the car and went grocery shopping.

Which I only found out about because another customer came inside and asked me to call the cops about it. I called the manager (we were a small local chain, I didn't have a phone, and this was before everyone carried cell phones). Just as the manager was asking what car it was so he could go out and get a license plate and shit, Mom* rolls up to my register with a cart full of groceries and realizes we're talking about her kid.

She then proceeds to scream at us that we're all monsters and she wasn't in there that long (she had a CART FULL OF GROCERIES) and it wasn't that hot out and the baby is fine and she didn't want to wake them up and we were just cruel for wanting to wake up a napping baby. Yeah, it was warm out, by the way.

She does all this while I'm checking her out, hoping that she'll go and CHECK ON THE BABY if I get her out of here faster than the cops would arrive, and she's telling the manager that she's going to report him to the head office for harassing a customer. No shit.

She leaves with her groceries. Hopefully the baby was okay - the cops didn't arrive since the manager hadn't called them yet, so I don't know.

*title given with a great deal of derision.

image taken from blogspot

You Gotta Entertain Yourself Somehow

Working in fast food is generally busy, but repetitive. You gotta entertain yourself somehow. My friends and I would sing songs, dance, and all sorts of crazy shit in order to not go absolutely crazy while working. I was the drive thru cashier 99% of the time, because I was one of the few people who could count change back without the register telling you how much change to give - yes, really - and the drive thru register was the only register that didn't tell you the return change. So I entertained myself in two ways.

Sometimes I would answer the drive thru in my best operator voice like this: "Thank you for choosing (western cowboy feel roast beef restaurant). For instructions in English, say, 'one.' Para instrucciones en Español, dice, 'dos.'"

If they were paying attention at all (which often they weren't, which is why I started doing this, because sometimes you'd be backed up and ask them to wait a moment and people would just start ordering), yes, people really would answer "one" or "dos."

Sometimes I answered in Japanese: "Irasshaimase (cowboy hat restaurant), dan deshō?" (Welcome to (Go West), how may I help you?) Usually people would just order, because again, they aren't paying attention and presume the speaker is shit and hear what they expect to hear. ONE TIME, however, I got back a confused, "Whaaaaaaaaat???!"

So I said it again in English, and they ordered.

They came around to the window, and I swear as they rolled down their car window, it was like a scene out of That 70s Show where Leo would be in a van and a cloud of cannabis smoke pours out when he exits. I told them their total like normal, and they said, "DUDE! We thought you were speaking in a foreign language!!"

I told them that indeed, I had been, and they were the only ones who noticed, which they found hilarious, as did I.

So there you go, stoners: your powers of observation are great. ;)

So there you have it, Steem fam - more tales from the cash register! Ah, the joys of retail. ;) Have a good day!

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