The Momentous Life of the Cashier
Jerry Merkel
January 5, 2012
Filed under Opinion
“So how’s everything else going?”
“It’s been good, Jer. My dad just had surgery on his knee the other day, I’m helping him pay off the medical bill; money’s been very tight lately.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right… how is he doing?”
“He’s been great! His complaining is back to its usual… actually, quite toned down now that we had to cut our oil spending for the winter in half.”
We both laughed, and the laughs turned to giggles, and we followed with an “ah” to signify our satisfaction with the banter.
“Your total is three-hundred dollars and ninety cents… plus tax.”
This is just one example of the many interactions I face as a cashier. During these moments, I have to know how to behave politely while performing a juggling act with keeping the customer at the center of my attention, counting their money, doing quick math, and giving them back the correct change and receipt – and I forgot… you have to bag everything. Memorization of codes –4011 for bananas, 10407 for ice, or
7572000409 for a Poland Spring 24-Pack of water – is important if you would like your line of six customers moving at a steady pace.
I must give the one-hundred or more customers my required “How are you?” and exuberant “Have a nice day!” everyday. And since there are many mistakes with sales on an average Sunday morning, I have to memorize them so that the second the person asks, I’m prepared. Remember: people don’t have time to waste.
Now, all these things may sound like quite a hassle, but this chaos drives the natural energy of a cashier. Every time I enter Kobacker’s Market, I wake up and smell the atmosphere of crazy people… and freshly brewed coffee, of course. These moments, like the one I had just a day ago when I ran into my mother’s friend’s father had knee surgery – they make my day. Strangely enough, these awkward encounters define my job as a cashier. Stranger, dealing with the public keeps me going back to my job,
because it is worthwhile, and I’m certain others would say the same.
In a way, the cashier is a certain social bridge between the store and the customer. We represent the store and because of this we have to bottle some of our opinions to keep our job and the customers sane. One time this woman bought two items but she refused to put them on the “dirty” grocery belt and demanded they be triple-bagged and thrown in a paper bag, stapled. Neither I nor the store had staples. These
little details seem to drive the regulars crazy… imagine what it’s like to say
“no.”
Another time a man asked me for the bathroom key in a hurry, practically running off while I was handing it to him. Unfortunately, it was too late. Being responsible for handing over the key, I was also responsible for the mess. The surveillance of cameras kept me from acting like a lunatic; I was forced to keep my cashier-like politeness and assure the man it was fine. His humiliated and repeated “sorry”’s still rung in my ears as the manager and my boss met up with the man to ensure that he was alright.
In many ways, the supermarket mimics the public playground. The supermarket is a playground for the public, except the kids are adults. They have their toys: carts, items, keys to the bathroom. They even get to play “clean-up” with the rack of disinfectant wipes that barely get any attention. They even have their sandbox - the glory of any play area. We, the cashiers, are the sandbox, acting as easily molded material for the public to toy with, complain about prices, and try to trick us into accepting another bounced check, or online coupons from couponsuzy.com.
I love my job because it gives me stories to tell. Who can say that they sold a person a winning scratch off ticket that raked in $500.00 the first time and then another $1,000.00 the next week? In some ways, I’m a franchising mastermind. On the other hand, I’m also an undercover agent. Who can say that they busted someone shop-lifting or buying alcohol illegally?
The strange interactions I face everyday ensure that I’ll have plenty of adventures to tell my kids one day, hopefully when I’m out of the supermarket business. I know that when I am an adult, working in an office, or in a lab, maybe at home, or at a school – shielded from the outside world – I will always remember those days where I rung up most of the Brewster community, shouting out “Have a nice day!” approximately 216,200 times before checking out. I love my job, and I might even say it’s easy; easier than some of the countless jobs that require more attention to the crazy public than I ever did. I’ll never forget that someday, when I’m older, and my cashier days are long over, I will be on the other side of the register – one of the many overgrown children waiting on a long line at the supermarket.