Why Old People Are the Best

 I don't understand why there's such a thing as Gerontophobia, or a fear of old people. Old people are the best! Sure, there are exceptions to the rule, like the cranky farts who tell me my tattoos are "disfiguring", or that I shouldn't work in customer service because I don't know what the hell I'm doing. But those are few and far between. Most of the elderly that come my way are the little old ladies that think my bright purple hair is the most amazing thing ever, that I'm gorgeous and sweet and brilliant.
 

  Is that terribly narcissistic of me? Of course. This is the one place in my life where I just don't care, because I'm surrounded by people every day that put me down because they're frustrated, they're impatient, they're going through things in their life that I can't begin to understand. So I push through it with a smile plastered on my face, trying to make them feel better, if only for a few minutes. Sometimes, when an older person walks in and is super nice, I don't feel as down. My smile gets bigger, more genuine. 

  

 Here are some of the adorable quips old people offer every day:

 1) Sassy (one of my coworkers): "Can I help you over here, Mr. Jim?"

 Mr. Jim: "No, no. I'll wait for this beautiful young lady over here. I don't care how long it takes."

 2) "Oh, I'm always so glad to see you, Happy. I come in and ask if you're here. When you're not, I don't know what to do with myself. Who else will make me smile?"

 3) "There she is! The golden girl!"

 4) "Here, my friend. This for you. You always so sweet and nice." Mr. Neda always buys me candy.

 5) "Happy, don't stop smiling. You look so beautiful when you smile -- it makes my day."

 6) "You're a brave girl! I could never dye my hair like that. I wish I'd been that brave at your age."

                And my favourite:

             "Happy, you're living proof that youth isn't wasted on the young."

     

   So, here's to you, old people! Come into SuchandSuch anytime, and I'll be Happy to help you out.
  After all, that's my job. because I'm Happy and I'm Here to Help!

Pick-ups at the check-out

  What is it with people coming onto the cashier? I'm not hideous, but I'm certainly not the prettiest doll in the porcelain shop, either. So what drives people to hit on their cashier while I'm checking them out for cigarettes, a piece of gum, adult diapers?

           I'll tell you something, though: It's not very appropriate. Recently, I had a man become very angry with me for rejecting his advances, saying that if I didn't want people to flirt with me, I shouldn't 'ask for it' by wearing makeup. What does that mean, exactly? That I shouldn't make an effort to look well, and maybe feel better about myself by dolling up a little? My job is boring; I should be allowed the little bits of glamour that I can gather.
             Now, I'm only human. When I see a cute girl at the register, I might subconsciously try to put on the charm. But will I stand in line for twenty minutes, holding up people behind me while trying to hook up with her?

   This is my place of business, sir/miss/madame. I'm not here to flirt, make eyes, or tease. I have an obligation to my customers to make sure that every one of you has an excellent experience while shopping at SuchandSuch. The same pretty much goes for every other cashier I've had the opportunity to speak with. We don't like to give out our numbers while on duty, or accept yours, or look up your youtube videos or watch your band play or go out for drinks.
     Then again, if you offer to buy me food...
 

Just kidding. I don't much like that, either. The moral of the story here is: always respect the boundaries of the cashier. It's flattering that you think we're attractive enough to hit on, but you never know who's going to take offense, who has a boyfriend or girlfriend, whose dad/mom is a cop. It's just not store policy. If you're really serious about making a connection, it might do you well to start slowly. I have a lot of customers that make excellent friends, and if they're my regulars and make an effort to get to know me for me (not just because I'm the kind of chipped porcelain doll they're collecting these days), I might agree to meet them for coffee after a few months. Months. Not seconds after I check them out for milk. 

Any questions, complaints, comments, or riots? SuchandSuch loves your feedback, and I do, too!

After all, I'm Happy, and I'm here to help!

A couple of Dos and Don'ts , courtesy of SuchandSuch Incorporated

Hello again! It's me, Happy the Cashier!
   Today, I would like to give everyone a little lesson in store etiquette. When I was growing up, my mother forced me to read the book, 'Miss Manners' Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior'. I thought it was super cool, but I'm a total bookworm, so I also think the dictionary is rad.

   But that's neither here nor there. My point is that in Miss Manners' delightful tome, I don't believe there's a true section devoted specifically to store etiquette. Never fear, Happy is here! And, if you'll permit me, I'm ready to give the world some cashier-ly advice that I've gained in my time working for SuchandSuch, and have gathered from other retail/customer service workers who never shut up about their problems. It's true, we really just don't shut up when we're alone. 

 To make it simple, I'll turn this into a list. I, for one, hate typing out paragraphs when we could just get straight to the point. That being said, here we go!

Dear Customers, 

Please do not:

• Get angry when cashiers don't put in their 10-30% discount card for you (You should bring your own).
• Or when they don't accept your expired coupons.
• Or when they do accept expired coupons, but have to punch in a number themselves, and deign to give you half the amount so their managers don't get mad.
• Give the cashiers rolls of change. The number one complaint I hear from other people behind the counter? "We're not a bank." The sad part? They're right. We're really not supposed to change rolls of quarters for a ten dollar bill. We get in trouble.
• Void out a transaction because you forgot your card in the car. Make sure you have it with you ahead of time. We cashiers get in a ton of trouble for doing a lot of voids during the day. Loss Prevention writes us up for it.  
• Same with prices verifies. Almost every store (almost) has a price scanner, which is seriously just easier to use. 
• Leave the items wherever you please all over the store. Remember: somebody has to clean up your mess, and making our jobs harder isn't very nice. Believe it or not, it's not actually in my job description to clean the store. 
• Oh, and please stop letting your kids push the items to the back of the shelves. Did you ever notice that when you come in, everything is nice, organized, and pulled to the front so that people can see all the merchandise? That's not as easy when your four year old is running around knocking over toothpaste.
• For the love of all that is good and holy, please, please, please don't leave the counter in the middle of a transaction. I guarantee you that someone will come in and will have to wait for you to get whatever it is you need. It's not a sin to do two transactions. People do it all the time. 
• Also, try to refrain from doing multiple transactions all the time, especially if three people are in line behind you. 

 Whew! That was tough! But just to show that I'm not picking on all you lovely consumers out there, I have a bone to pick with some of my fellow customer service associates.

   Dear other cashiers:

  Please do not:

• Smack gum while ringing people out. Swallow it, spit it out, hold it to the roof of your mouth -- I don't care, just don't *smack* chew *smack* it *pop* While you're *bubble...pop!* ringing. 
• Roll your eyes at the other cashier when a customer gives you a hard time. I know they can be annoying and demanding (see previous list), but we all see you giving the "Can you believe this bitch" face to Sally over there at the other register. We're not blind; we see you, and it's offensive. 
• Not laugh at customer's lame jokes. Even if it's one you've heard a million times, we have to make the effort when they do.
• Snap at little kids for misbehaving. You aren't their parents; you don't have license to scold them, let alone be rude. They're kids, and they're bound to misbehave.
• Swear on the job. What do you think this is, Rude Rick's? I can actually feel my jaw drop the moment an F-Bomb comes out of your mouth.
  
• Complain about previous customers, and certainly not the job itself. No one wants to hear about our bad days, trust me. If you're going to whine and groan about some old couponer who got mad because she couldn't save thirty cents on tissues, do it when no one is at the register. 

   And surely the number one rule for both parties is this:

Don't sing in the store!!!

   Alright, everybody! That's enough bossiness and meanness for the day. Until next time ~

 I'm Happy, and I'm Here to Help!

My name is Happy. How may I help you today?

 I'm a company girl. After I got my job at SuchandSuch (insert retail name...here), my Mom never stopped telling me that: I. Am. A. Company. Girl. I think it's supposed to be a compliment, and sometimes I feel really proud to hold a title like that. I look into the mirror (Okay, I don't -- I'm afraid of mirrors), I stare myself straight in the eye, and I smile, "You are a company girl! Congratulations!"
   But lately, I'm learning that being a company girl is not all it's cracked up to be. This being my first real job ever, working not even two blocks from home, and having a great team on board with me should really put me in my place, right? I mean, in today's economy, I'm lucky to have a job at all, right? Well, that's true. I'm terribly grateful to work for SuchandSuch. The only problem I can find...it's pretty simple, really:
   When taking said job at SuchandSuch, I totally forgot that I am not a people person.
  Don't get me wrong, people are cool and all, but so is space travel, and you don't see me heading up in the next shuttle. The fact is, people and I just aren't, erm, sympatico at the moment.

I get anxious and snappy and sometimes even downright cranky when you get me started. And it's very, very easy to get someone in retail/customer service frustrated. So I'm sitting there, thinking the same thing every (and I do promise you every) cashier is thinking:

   It's a bitter experience. Entry-level jobs, while certainly better than no job at all, are at the bottom of the food chain for any teenager. They're menial, tedious, monotonous, frustrating, and will make you want to pop your own head off like an oily, overgrown zit. And I couldn't stop myself from thinking that same thought every time I walked through SuchandSuch's doors. But what else could I do, other than what I had to? And how else could I do it, but to the best of my ability? It never occurred to me that my hatred for the customers might just seep through. Then we got a new manager. 

       In reality, this stewing I'd been doing over the stupidness of it all only lasted a couple of weeks before the store manager left us to follow his dreams in real estate. Don't worry, we're a multi-million dollar corporation, we'll always have an eye on him. Always. In any event, the new, young, handsome manager came on and introduced an idea that was relatively new to me: the comment binder. Essentially, the transition to the coupon binder was simple; the comments that customers left via the email prompts (yes, we've invaded your email) were recorded and left for our entire team to see. If it was a good comment, you got a pat on the back. If it was a bad comment, the big red highlighter came out and you were marred in the eyes of your manager.

Okay, maybe not marred, but he might flash you a little something like this:

I went into overdrive. Every damn customer got a smile, a wave, an offer of help on anything, and a thank you as they walked out the door. The first few weeks, I panicked every day that I came in. I would rush to the binder, throw open the pages, and...nothing but good comments, or no comment at all.The implications were staggering. Was it really possible that I had been polite, even sweet and kind to every customer we had? Hadn't I even screwed up once? But I hated people. My nerves were frayed; I needed my manager's approval, to show my entire team that they hadn't made a mistake by hiring the girl down the street. I had to make sure they all knew what a good worker I was. The pressure to keep my thoughts, and therefore my demeanor, positive was almost unbearable. Think sunshine, rainbows, little baby kittens with bows.

I am not that kind of person. And it was tiring to think that way every minute, with an unwavering albeit genuine smile plastered on my face. I was caving. The original 'comment binder pressure rush' was wearing down.

           Finally, after a long day of never-ending couponers and missing shopping carts and, "No, I'm sorry, we don't have public restrooms for your screaming five year-old," we were about to close up. Thank heavens, because I was so, so done. Suddenly, a rush of people burst through the door and filled the entire store with less than ten minutes to spare. Was it a holiday, a mad stampede to get the best deals from a super sale or stock up for the zombie squirrel apocalypse? No, just a normal night. And when the despicable jolt of customers at last broke like Moses parting the final drops of the Red Sea, I waited for my manager to finish counting up the cash, set the alarm, what have you -- And I ripped out a piece of receipt paper. I clicked open a pen. I wrote down every vile, frustrated, vicious thought I'd had during my entire shift, every funny little quip or random thought. I poured my heart out onto that tiny piece of paper. By the time the pharmacy crew came up with their cash drawer and bags for checking, the deed was done.Two sides of the scrap paper were completely filled.
       And I felt liberated. I felt so happy that I could have backflipped over my register. I felt like a bird flying free. That's how it started. The youngest pharmacist, a man who looks as if he's barely in his twenties, hefted the drawer on one shoulder and drawled, "Hey, Happy."
          "What? What did you say?" I demanded, still dizzy from my impromptu writer's high.
         "I said, 'Hey, Happy,'" he informed me proudly, seemingly satisfied with the joke. "You're always so damn chipper. That's our name for you back in pharmacy -- Happy."
      Looking down at my list of mean thoughts and snide jokes, I laughed at him. "You're right!" I told him. "I am happy! I work at SuchandSuch, and I'm a company girl!"
 

Since then, I've had so many of those thoughts, jokes, quips, and stories that I'm starting to feel bad about taking so much company receipt paper. My coworker told me to start a twitter. I figured I'd start a blog instead. 

Long story short, this is a place for me to complain about customers (all in good fun, of course, I really do love most of them), the hassles of retail, the drudge of the workday. Hopefully, no one takes me too seriously when I rant: remember, I am a company girl. I love my customers, my job, and understand how lucky I am to have a regular income. That being said, do you hate working in retail? Does working in customer service totally screw up your day? Are you sick of coupons and cash registers and returns? Let out some steam in the comments!

After all...

My Name is Happy, and I'm Here to Help!

(Also, please note that most of my posts will not be so mind-numbingly long)