I am a cashier. I am nothing more, and nothing less; I stand behind a screen at a cash register, I scan your groceries, I bag your groceries, and I take your money. Because I've been working so much lately I've come to realize that I do in fact enjoy my job, to an extent - meaning that I've come to know myself as functioning better with explicit instruction and straightforward responsibility. I certainly do not mean that I enjoy dealing with customers for long amounts of time, and the position itself is absolutely monotonous. I'm lucky that I like the people I work with.
You might think to yourself that I am a good fit for a customer service job, and you would be wrong. Yes, I can quickly switch on the smile and be so obnoxiously polite that it's nauseating, but so help me god I have to stop myself from yelling and swearing at some people. Not that I have an anger issue - I suppose that actually might depend on who you talk to because I can think of at least a few people who would swear that I'm a raving aggressive psychopath - but I definitely do have a short fuse and it takes me little to piss me off completely. I used to joke that I would never be suited to deal with people, and my parents and friends did agree, and yet regardless of my short fuse the switched-on smile came out during my job interview three years ago and I now find myself a bright ambassador of that above-and-beyond customer service my store guarantees during your visit. Why, yes! - not only do I scan, but I smile. Are you having a good day? No? Then smarten the fuck up because I'm personable, happy, and when I tell you to have a nice day when I'm done with you, do it.
From working as a cashier for so long, I've noticed trends in the sort of people who come through from day to day. Again, due to my sudden influx of working hours (no complaints, the paychecks are gorgeous), I've only come to recently define these customers as the stereotypes of my day, and I'm sure if you've ever had a job similar or currently do, you will agree with me.
The Asian woman who doesn't speak English. I do not mean to completely generalize, but I often get a handful of middle-aged to elderly Asian women who jab their fingers at me or their groceries and throw their change onto the conveyor belt out of reach from my large and uncoordinated fingers. Nothing against them whatsoever - why, some are rather sweet.
The single man. A staple of the lunch or dinner rush, either in a suit (clearly coming from work) or in some sort of activewear (clearly coming from whatever was so active about their life), the single men that come through seem to have this aura of being completely out of place from their grocery store surroundings. They don't care how much it is, they don't care how I bag their groceries or if I even bag them at all; they want out.
The sweet elderly woman, man, or couple. Nothing puts me in a better mood than the sickeningly sweet elderly person or people who brighten my day with a compliment or their general positive demeanor. Meanwhile, the horrific elderly woman, man, or couple are the worst, because nothing beats a mean old person. I've had a woman yell at me for not bagging her groceries properly, or old men treat me like I have caveman intelligence. I dislike them, but then I remember they're old, so I feel bad.
The mumbler. "Hi, how are you?" "mmmhmmpfhhmm." If you are obviously mumbling, or if you don't answer or even attempt to acknowledge me whatsoever, I will probably by default not treat you with the same kindness as I do anyone else. I try my best to be nice to the cashiers I encounter when I'm a customer, and I see absolutely no reason to mumble or be rude about a simple "I'm good, thank you;" in fact, I don't even understand why people in bad moods choose to go shopping anyways. Stay at home and brood, you black hole.
The children who shouldn't be unaccompanied and often cannot count change. I don't really like having really young kids as customers, and that sentence is horrific if you were to take it out of context. What I mean is you usually get the kids who come through with handfuls of chocolate bars and coins that they haven't yet bothered to total. I never quite know how to interact with these kids, because they act like I'm a scary yeti.
The bystander. I understand that to bag one's groceries is part of my job, but I always appreciate the courtesy of help, especially if customers are extremely particular about how their groceries are packed - that being said they don't have to help me at all. But if I have a line, and if the order is massive, it pisses me off to no end to see someone stand with their arms crossed watching me as I rush as fast as I can to complete their order.
The "that's-too-much!" complainer. If you are aware that this particular grocery store in general does have higher prices, and that create your own salads are done by weight, do not get angry at me when your bloody salad comes to be over twenty dollars. (by the way - I hate having serve yourself foods left to me because of the price being too much, because we can't do anything but chuck it)
And, the most frequent, the nice woman, who is, really, just a nice woman (with or without kids) who engages conversation and carries a positive disposition. Take heed, and be that nice woman.
I've hardly begun to account for every sort of person I encounter: some are overly concerned with price, watching the screen like a hawk and refusing to forgive should I make a minor mistake; some are oblivious, leaving their keys and cards behind; some critique my packing skills and make and later blatantly repacks their groceries the second after I hand them the bag. The joys of customer service. I almost crave that mundane desk job if it means I'm to myself all day long.
Showing posts with label Idiots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Idiots. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Idiots
On this glorious day full of springtime snowfall, I came to discover that one of my literature classes was canceled for the day, giving me a glaringly large break in my day from 2 until 5. Naturally, I decided that that three hour window would be a great time to get working on (but by get working on, I mean start) an essay for my Shakespeare class due in a week's time. I came to school all saddled up with my laptop and its power cord (the godforsaken battery is so horrible that it lasts for five minutes without being plugged in. No lie, it's that bad), and when my last class before the break ended, I trooped to the library through a sheet of snow harassment.
By the time I got there and made it up the stairs to the top floor, I was out of breath and in search of a cubicle with a plug where I could sit down and get to work. My search came up empty, as everywhere was full. I finally came to a comfy chair in the collaborative study area - so, pretty much, a place where idiots can flock to talk their damn mouths off all the while being able to say, "I'm at the library!" - beside a plug. Of course the plug was dead, so I played it cool for a few minutes before I got up and left.
My next option was a group of couches up in the CCIT building. I narrowly dodged election campaigners on my way, but I made it to the third floor and to an empty couch with an adjacent working plug.
In fact, I sit here now. And I sit here boiling with rage. Across from me sits a guy and a girl on the same couch. The guy is absorbed in his laptop while the girl is half talking to him, half on her phone.
And to them, I say - (which is ironic since I'm ranting about her when she's literally three feet away from me) - please, SHUT THE FUCK UP.
This girl has one of the most annoying voices I have ever heard. It makes her sound incredibly, incredibly stupid. It doesn't help that everything she says is so drawn out and slow that she sounds mentally retarded. She literally hasn't stopped talking since I got here - and it's been close to forty-five minutes now. I am not kidding when I say I think she is retarded. In the blissful forty-five minutes I've been here for, I've heard the following:
If there's anything I hate on this planet, it's idiots. I would've thought that going to a university (or post-secondary at all) would've propelled me away from lowlifes and into a place where academics alike go to pursue a higher call to life through learning. The amount of idiocracy I witness on campus from day to day astounds me. It honestly astounds me. Yes, I may have turned into a bit of a snob since high school: I do pride myself on going to one of the most reputable universities in Canada, and yes, I generally surround myself with people who are stimulating to me - intelligently or otherwise. It is simply shocking to me that I still encounter people who have IQs lower than Rebecca Black.
She's left to go to class. God has answered my prayers. Or, perhaps, my blogging has some sort of subliminal power to influence people to do my bidding. I like that option.
By the time I got there and made it up the stairs to the top floor, I was out of breath and in search of a cubicle with a plug where I could sit down and get to work. My search came up empty, as everywhere was full. I finally came to a comfy chair in the collaborative study area - so, pretty much, a place where idiots can flock to talk their damn mouths off all the while being able to say, "I'm at the library!" - beside a plug. Of course the plug was dead, so I played it cool for a few minutes before I got up and left.
My next option was a group of couches up in the CCIT building. I narrowly dodged election campaigners on my way, but I made it to the third floor and to an empty couch with an adjacent working plug.
In fact, I sit here now. And I sit here boiling with rage. Across from me sits a guy and a girl on the same couch. The guy is absorbed in his laptop while the girl is half talking to him, half on her phone.
And to them, I say - (which is ironic since I'm ranting about her when she's literally three feet away from me) - please, SHUT THE FUCK UP.
This girl has one of the most annoying voices I have ever heard. It makes her sound incredibly, incredibly stupid. It doesn't help that everything she says is so drawn out and slow that she sounds mentally retarded. She literally hasn't stopped talking since I got here - and it's been close to forty-five minutes now. I am not kidding when I say I think she is retarded. In the blissful forty-five minutes I've been here for, I've heard the following:
- "Do we use the metric system?"
- "What is the metric system?" (I nearly fell over when I heard this)
- She read off the next week's weather report.. highs, lows, nighttime lows, humidity, chance of precipitation.
- "Oh, my, god, boys are so stupid!"
- "This game is so difficult! Oh my god!" (she's playing a game on her phone. Her guy friend asked her what she's playing, to which she had answered "Solitaire")
If there's anything I hate on this planet, it's idiots. I would've thought that going to a university (or post-secondary at all) would've propelled me away from lowlifes and into a place where academics alike go to pursue a higher call to life through learning. The amount of idiocracy I witness on campus from day to day astounds me. It honestly astounds me. Yes, I may have turned into a bit of a snob since high school: I do pride myself on going to one of the most reputable universities in Canada, and yes, I generally surround myself with people who are stimulating to me - intelligently or otherwise. It is simply shocking to me that I still encounter people who have IQs lower than Rebecca Black.
She's left to go to class. God has answered my prayers. Or, perhaps, my blogging has some sort of subliminal power to influence people to do my bidding. I like that option.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Can I have an X?
It's my life long dream to be a contestant on Wheel of Fortune. For as long as I can remember I've watched the show, starting as a little kid and watching it with my grandma. She still lights up when we're together around 7pm and I say, Wanna watch Wheel of Fortune? with a smile. Last year I even applied to be a contestant, but no dice, obviously. It's a bit farfetched, and they pick old people.
They also pick idiots.
Take, for instance, the episode I'm now viewing. It's College Week. This girl seems alright. Seems smart. Well...
The puzzle's subject was College Life, how fitting and sickeningly humourous. I don't want to brag (bragging about guessing a Wheel of Fortune puzzle.. yeah I'm a loser. It's a reoccurrance lately) but I figured it out after a few letters up on the board. I've always been good with word puzzles. This bright young female didn't get it quite as quickly, and I get it, not everyone is quick to solve. The more she called out letters the more it became obvious that she didn't know what it was, as she called out all the letters of the last word in order. Again, whatever. But the puzzle now looks like this:
_ e i n _
_ r a n t e _
a
s c h o l a r s h i p
And what does she guess? "Can I have a W?" The sound in the audience only highlighted how stupid she is, as they all gasped and groaned. YOU IDIOT. Now I purposely didn't tell you what the puzzle was - "being granted a scholarship" - and honestly, even if you, my wonderful reader, DIDN'T know what the answer was, I'm sure you would have logically deduced that there must be a "d" at the end of the second word, and there must be a "g" at the end of the first, thereby revealing the g in "granted," also. Even if you didn't figure out either of those letters, were lucky, or didn't know what the puzzle was, I know you knew that a "w" would not fit. Wein_? _einw? Wrante_? _rantew?
I get that there's pressure when you know you're playing for thousands of dollars and are on national television, but it gets under my skin when I know I'd slaughter my opponents if I were ever on the show, but instead have to sit back and watch stupid, stupid people.
If I were ever on the show, I'd keep spinning for maximum winnings; I wouldn't guess the puzzle when there's a huge amount of money to be made (people do that. "Can I solve?" No the fuck you can't. Go make money); I'd guess letters appearing more than once when I land on high amounts on the wheel (people don't do this. If there's clearly a multiple, and you've landed on $5000, please guess it, and don't guess the lone Z). Above all, I'd win, and I'd look good doing it. Until then, I'm fine with yelling at my TV.
They also pick idiots.
Take, for instance, the episode I'm now viewing. It's College Week. This girl seems alright. Seems smart. Well...
The puzzle's subject was College Life, how fitting and sickeningly humourous. I don't want to brag (bragging about guessing a Wheel of Fortune puzzle.. yeah I'm a loser. It's a reoccurrance lately) but I figured it out after a few letters up on the board. I've always been good with word puzzles. This bright young female didn't get it quite as quickly, and I get it, not everyone is quick to solve. The more she called out letters the more it became obvious that she didn't know what it was, as she called out all the letters of the last word in order. Again, whatever. But the puzzle now looks like this:
_ e i n _
_ r a n t e _
a
s c h o l a r s h i p
And what does she guess? "Can I have a W?" The sound in the audience only highlighted how stupid she is, as they all gasped and groaned. YOU IDIOT. Now I purposely didn't tell you what the puzzle was - "being granted a scholarship" - and honestly, even if you, my wonderful reader, DIDN'T know what the answer was, I'm sure you would have logically deduced that there must be a "d" at the end of the second word, and there must be a "g" at the end of the first, thereby revealing the g in "granted," also. Even if you didn't figure out either of those letters, were lucky, or didn't know what the puzzle was, I know you knew that a "w" would not fit. Wein_? _einw? Wrante_? _rantew?
I get that there's pressure when you know you're playing for thousands of dollars and are on national television, but it gets under my skin when I know I'd slaughter my opponents if I were ever on the show, but instead have to sit back and watch stupid, stupid people.
If I were ever on the show, I'd keep spinning for maximum winnings; I wouldn't guess the puzzle when there's a huge amount of money to be made (people do that. "Can I solve?" No the fuck you can't. Go make money); I'd guess letters appearing more than once when I land on high amounts on the wheel (people don't do this. If there's clearly a multiple, and you've landed on $5000, please guess it, and don't guess the lone Z). Above all, I'd win, and I'd look good doing it. Until then, I'm fine with yelling at my TV.
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