Chapter Eight: 'I Like Turtles'

Okay - I'm sure no one else will find this funny... I'm also sure I'm the only one who finds any of these stories funny... but this morning, I was ringing up merchandise for an older gentleman and I asked my routine question "How are you doing today?" His response? "I have warts on my feet." Wow. Thanks for sharing. I laughed because, in my opinion, that has nothing to do with what I asked. For the rest of that particular transaction, I kept replaying the youtube video of the boy who completely disregarded the anchorwoman's question and gave some random and unnecessary information. I laughed because I knew what that anchorwoman felt like. I also laughed because - well, I was sleep-deprived and sick of the mundane same ole morning routine and NEEDED something to get me through. Watch the youtube video of the little boy. It's funny - much much funnier than my version.

Chapter Seven: The Telepathist

So with all those new movies coming out in the last decade where superheros are everywhere - and they are the everyday man (i.e. Batman, Spiderman, Iron Man, and even arguably, Unbreakable), I was only slightly surprised when I encountered one today at work.

It is Sign Saturday (as I like to call it), the day we change our sale signs. I was busy in aisle 4, sticking those bright colored tabs on every label in sight, when a man approached me from the right side. He was an older gentleman, and I could only see him out of the corner of my eye at first. He stood three feet away, and I could feel him watching me. I looked up, and quickly returned my attention to the price labels, as staring is somehow a normal occurance at this store. When he didn't look away or turn his attention elsewhere, I looked back at him. He was just staring at me. This is when the mind talk must have began, because he wasn't moving his lips, but he clearly needed something. He must have mistaken me for a telepathist too, because the blank staring continued - but only for a few short seconds before I chimed in with actual words: "Can I help you with something." He stalled then simply replied "yes." He must have gotten confused again because he stood silent, forgetting that I am not a mind reader. "What do you need?" I asked. Another short moment of silence. Giving up on having a conversation with a non- Superhero, he looked behind him at his wife. So - I approached his wife, and, to my advantage, she does not use telepathy like her husband does. She formed whole sentences and told me what she needed and I was able to help her find what she was looking for.

It just makes me wonder: Who does that man talk to if he's the only telepathist??

Chapter Six: One of Those

Okay - I am trying to steer clear of the stories of older gentleman hitting on me or saying weird things or shaking things at me... Although - there seems to be in overflowing amount of these stories in this town. So that explains a little bit of why I haven't written recently. I don't want to write about those mundane things b/c, well, they're just not interesting... but just to put another chapter down, here's some things I tend to see on a daily basis. Besides, I obviously cannot express the following words/feelings to customers, so I might as well vent here!

Here's a list of the typical customers at work who make me say (inside my head): "Oh good. You're one of those."

1. The One Who Screams: Incase you didn't know, as a cashier standing at the very front of the store, we are unable to see everything in the store at all times. So when you're standing in an aisle and you point to something on the bottom shelf and scream to me "Is this price right?" or "What is this?" we won't be able to help at that moment. Give us a chance to get to the aisle before you put your hands on your hips and roll your eyes. Here's an idea: Bend down, pick up the item, and bring it to the front. Use your legs to walk. That's what they're there for. We are more than willing to help (really), but don't expect us to have X-Ray vision through the the aisles.

2. The One Who Interrupts: If I'm with a customer and you're at the photo kiosk, please don't scream at me from the kiosk and ask me how to zoom in. At least ask if you could get some help when I get a chance. It's not our choice to be the only person working at the front, and we can only be one place at a time.

3. The One Who Licks: While I'm sure the white residue blanketed across your tongue is not an indication of your poor personal hygiene, I hate to watch you scrape your finger across your tongue and then grab a bill from your billfold to give to me. I promise you - I've never had to lick a bill to free it from the rest of the bills. It will be just fine - that is unless you want me to lick my finger to free the bags that I use to bag your purchased items. Deal? Also - ladies. No one wants to take a bill from you when you have just retrieved it from your shirt. Plain and simple.

4. The One Who has to Be Somewhere Yesterday: I totally understand that you don't like standing at the register waiting for the cashier to get there. Honestly, I do. When I am busy running errands, or I have somewhere to be in twenty minutes, I get in a hurry too. And before, I worked at this store, I didn't fully realize why there was not always someone near the front. WHen I started, I quickly learned that we cashiers are constantly given tasks to do around the store. And it's not our choice to be in aisle 18, stocking the shelves, while continually checking on the front. Please, pretty please, don't huff and puff at me, and tap your fingers on the counter while I'm ringing up your items. My goal is never to see how long I can keep someone at the counter - and the death-look staring contest you are trying to have with me is not helping me get you out the door. It makes me nervous and makes me wish I had a special "instant police help" button under the counter.

Chapter Five: The 84 Year Old Little Kid

Tonight, an elderly man came into the store and immediately asked me for a shirt and shorts. I told him we had very very few options (as in one). I led him to the endcap where the shirts were and he said he wanted white. When I told him (atleast three times) that we were out of white, he finally settled for blue. I also warned him that our only pair of shorts were bright purple mesh shorts. He said that would be fine. Then he grabbed my arm and said "I'm going to be an eighty-four year old kid." Okay. Great. I led him back to the front where the shorts were located and asked him what size he was.... After much explaining that we didn't have size "34", but only the cheap "S, M, L" he chose Medium.

And for about the fourth time in our conversation, I suggested that Meijer or Walmart might have better choices. He disagreed again, saying he really really wanted to "trade" with me.

"I don't like Walmart," he said.

"Yeah, me either," I responded, sincerely.

"I went there once and they were very mean. I want to trade with you," he said pulling out a knife. (Seriously) "You like my knife?" He waved it at a me. I'm not sure it was a threat, but it was out of the blue.

"Sure."

"I found it. I really like it."

"Me too." I took a step back.

Luckily, another worker stepped in and called me aside, assuring the man we didn't have what he was looking for. And he left. It ended as abruptly as it began....

I have mixed feelings. I wish I could say it was a more interesting story to read. But it was such a bizarre situation to be apart of.

Like I said, I'm not sure he was threatening me. I couldn't understand what in the world was going on. But it was (thankfully) one of those things I can laugh about when I get home at the end of the day.

Chapter Four: Chippendales

During one shift, I was standing in the alcohol aisle changing price tags when this fifty-something year old man walks by carrying a case of beer. He looks me up and down and says "Are you the only sweet young thang working at the front?" I answered that I was, and proceeded to follow him to the front counter. That's when he must have lost all sense of reality and believed he was at a Chippendale's audition. He swiftly lifted his hands above his head and shook his butt at me, doing a little dance. He turned around. And when he saw my shock, he said "Well, I tried." What reaction was he expecting from me?

Um, sir - VIP strip club is down the street. You're in a store.

Chapter Three: The Motorized Wheelchair

My brother is spending his last summer before grad school working at another store - a bigger store. One of the many roles he plays there is a greeter, meaning he welcomes people to store and gets the carts ready for customers. Another important role of the greeter is to fetch a motorized wheelchair for those in need. If the chair is at the opposite entrance of the customer, his job is to run to other end, climb in the chair and drive it back. During his first adventure riding one of these lovely contraptions, a co-worker stopped him and simply said "You know they pee in those right?" I wish I could have seen his face.

Needless to say, he did a load of laundry that night.

Public Motorized Wheelchair Consumers Beware: Bring your own lysol wipes.

Chapter Two: The Plague

I was busy stocking shelves when a guy about my age rushes in.

"Can you help me find something to put on this?" he asks, pointing to this giant rash on his neck.

With a disgusted face, I answered "Um, you should probably go ask the pharmacy...I wouldn't even begin to know what kind of creme to put on that."

"Oh no!" He interrupts. "I mean like makeup."

After seeing my very puzzled face, he continues. "See, yesterday was my birthday and when I passed out, these girls thought it would be funny to give me a hickey...I realize it looks more like a rash or something but it's not."

So I spent the next ten minutes rushing between the register and the makeup aisle matching his skin tone to foundations and concealers along the wall.

Chapter One: Romeo

My very first memorable strange customer was an older gentleman - quite old, in fact. He approached the counter and asked if he could return an item. I assured him he could as long as he hadn't opened the product and as long as he had the receipt. Both were true. He kept apologizing and I wasn't sure why. That's when he pulled out the "Ultra-ribbed condoms". And of course - the register would not allow me to refund the product alone. I had to call my manager to the front - making the process even longer. I just wanted to get this man out the door and on his way.

Also on the receipt from the returned condoms? A bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes.

Looks like someone's night didn't go as planned.

Preface

So - as you may notice, I do not keep up with my blogs very well.. And this one may not work out any better...

I just graduated college with a degree in Media Communication with an emphasis on writing in television and film. News flash: So did a lot of other people. So I was stuck with finding another source of income while continuing my constant battle to beat others to a job opening.

What I (luckily) found was a job as a cashier at a large store chain (or however I can introduce that without giving up the name of the business). I soon realized that I came home almost every night with a funny or annoying or unbelievable story. Don't get me wrong - I am very grateful for the job. And I like most aspects of the business, but some of the things that happen there - well, you'll see...