Things have been fairly mundane at the Dollar Store -- until yesterday. The OC clerk was there, and I felt that slight trepidation I always feel when I see her. I got my merchandise and stood waiting in line behind a couple. The man was purchasing a kitchen-sized trashcan along with a few other items. He saw that OC was bagging the smaller items and he said, "Oh, you can just put all that in here," gesturing to the trashcan.
I held my breath. This was a huge, I knew; this wasn't going to go over.
OC stared at him a moment, the same intensity in her large eyes that comes with suggestions of deviation from the norm. Then she said firmly, "I have to use a bag."
I looked at the man. He shook his head in mild exasperation. I grew tense, expecting an argument.
Then I noticed the wife smiling at me, as if seeking comaraderie. I smiled in return, trying to look merely pleasant rather than derisive. I would never want to hurt OC's feelings, despite her infuriating inability/refusal to think outside the box.
Anyway, as it turned out, the male customer ended up chatting congenially with OC, clearly choosing to forget his irritation.
That was actually really neat. Sometimes I assume I'm the only person in a group that was raised being taught how to act right. This man reminded me that we can take any annoying situation and make it positive by pretending it's not annoying. And the beauty of it is, by the end of the interaction, it really isn't annoying anymore. It's just learning how to get along with somebody different from you.
Still, I'm glad I don't have to wait for her to scan 11 milk jugs anymore.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Friday, October 14, 2011
Part V
This might be disappointing, since no weirdness really took place, no pajamas, no domestic disputes or snakes or obsessive milk jug census, but I stopped by the dollar store on my way home yesterday to get a couple things. It seems that every time I go, I end up with that cashier, no matter what day or time, even if it's been ages since I was last there. As always, I made a mental wish that she not be working today, but I resigned myself to the inevitable and went on in. Well, in my shopping, I actually forgot about it. And I didn't think about it again until I went to get in line. There was one customer in front of me, which I wouldn't have thought much about except...
It was HER. This time she was a customer! I mean, I can't get a break. If she's not working there, she is shopping there.
I glanced over at the other line and noticed that the person behind the one checking out had only a couple items, so I discreetly slipped behind him.
I don't think she saw me.
It was HER. This time she was a customer! I mean, I can't get a break. If she's not working there, she is shopping there.
I glanced over at the other line and noticed that the person behind the one checking out had only a couple items, so I discreetly slipped behind him.
I don't think she saw me.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Part IV
This story comes from my friend Denise. She told it to me so I could add it to my Dollar Store series:
Recently, a Dollar General opened up in Harker Heights -- because, as Denise said, they have to keep up with Kempner. (Only locals will know why that's funny.) She was in a hurry and only needed a 2 liter of Diet Sprite. This particular day was the Grand Opening. Denise got there to find a radio station broadcasting live in the parking lot, with people standing around watching them and taking up parking spaces. Denise hurried in for her two-liter and there met with something she hadn't expected. "Do you know they sell clothes there?" she asked. Now, if you don't know Denise, it should suffice to just tell you that she is the closest thing to a real-life Elle Woods ("Legally Blonde"), intelligence included, I might add. In fact, she has named her daughter Elle. Enough said.
So I told her, yes, I knew they sold clothes there and she went on to exclaim that not only did they sell clothes there, but a lady was buying them. Her main issue with this was that the D.S. clothes were extremely uncute, while Walmart at least attempted to mimic current fashions at prices just as low. Furthermore, this lady was buying piles of them and Denise had to wait for 12 minutes (yes, it appears she timed it) with her 2 liter of Diet Sprite while this lady replenished her wardrobe.
At this point, I was amused, but it really didn't constitute a "Dollar Store" story in the tradition of my series -- until Denise added, "And she was wearing a shower cap!"
She dropped that little gem almost as if it were an after-thought. I took me a second to process and I had to seek clarification: "She...was wearing a shower cap?"
"Yes!" I had heard correctly.
This lady made my Longhorn pajama lady look almost presidential.
Recently, a Dollar General opened up in Harker Heights -- because, as Denise said, they have to keep up with Kempner. (Only locals will know why that's funny.) She was in a hurry and only needed a 2 liter of Diet Sprite. This particular day was the Grand Opening. Denise got there to find a radio station broadcasting live in the parking lot, with people standing around watching them and taking up parking spaces. Denise hurried in for her two-liter and there met with something she hadn't expected. "Do you know they sell clothes there?" she asked. Now, if you don't know Denise, it should suffice to just tell you that she is the closest thing to a real-life Elle Woods ("Legally Blonde"), intelligence included, I might add. In fact, she has named her daughter Elle. Enough said.
So I told her, yes, I knew they sold clothes there and she went on to exclaim that not only did they sell clothes there, but a lady was buying them. Her main issue with this was that the D.S. clothes were extremely uncute, while Walmart at least attempted to mimic current fashions at prices just as low. Furthermore, this lady was buying piles of them and Denise had to wait for 12 minutes (yes, it appears she timed it) with her 2 liter of Diet Sprite while this lady replenished her wardrobe.
At this point, I was amused, but it really didn't constitute a "Dollar Store" story in the tradition of my series -- until Denise added, "And she was wearing a shower cap!"
She dropped that little gem almost as if it were an after-thought. I took me a second to process and I had to seek clarification: "She...was wearing a shower cap?"
"Yes!" I had heard correctly.
This lady made my Longhorn pajama lady look almost presidential.
Part III
My last trip for fish water was pretty uneventful. O.C. was on duty and in the process of setting my merchandise on the counter, I caught her just staring at me and that kind of weirded me out. She had to take a deep breath before launching into the scanning of my one gallon 11 times. It scanned smoothly until number 10, then I had to wait a few uncomfortable moments while she passed the scanner repeatedly over the gallon. I always feel a bit guilty, as if any glitches are providential validation of her original conviction that each gallon should be scanned separately.
Tonight, however, as I was entering the store, I noted with some consternation that one lady -- probably in her 60s -- was wearing Longhorn pajamas. They caught my attention (and increased my discomfort) because they looked a bit like my Longhorn pajamas. I don't want to own pajamas that somebody who would wear them to the store also owns.
Anyway, she saw me glance at her and didn't seem pleased, so I hurried on. I grabbed my 11 gallons as fast as I could and got in line. A benign few moments passed until I noticed something: the lady in front of me was also wearing pajamas. Hers were red, silk pajamas with a Japanese looking print. I stood, unobserved, and studied her, contemplating the fact that two different people who weren't even together had both come shopping in their pajamas.
Then the cash register, which doesn't seem to operate like any other cash register in the rest of the world, went haywire and wouldn't accept her check. So I had wait for several more minutes while the cashier scanned and rescanned and then for no apparent reason was able to suddenly put the check through.
I glanced once more at the red-pajama lady as she exited the store, and that's when I noticed that she was also wearing red houseslippers. They matched perfectly. Either she wasn't trying at all to pass off her pajamas as an outfit, or, by wearing matching slippers, she was. I don't know.
Just as I was checking out, a customer asked for the bathroom keys. (I wasn't aware the Dollar Store had a bathroom, and I can't fathom lingering there long enough to need it.) The cashier handed her an object that the keys were fastened to, like in gas stations. Peripherally, I saw that it was not the typical wooden block, and it registered with me what it was just as the customer said, "Oh -- a fly-swatter." Yes, the keys were fastened to a pink fly-swatter. Whether it is also used to swat flies remains a mystery.
I quickly left, making it into my truck just as somebody's stringy-haired, tattooed brother or husband (or both) had fixed a hard stare on me.
I am thinking I might wear my Longhorn pajamas from now on only to the Dollar Store
Tonight, however, as I was entering the store, I noted with some consternation that one lady -- probably in her 60s -- was wearing Longhorn pajamas. They caught my attention (and increased my discomfort) because they looked a bit like my Longhorn pajamas. I don't want to own pajamas that somebody who would wear them to the store also owns.
Anyway, she saw me glance at her and didn't seem pleased, so I hurried on. I grabbed my 11 gallons as fast as I could and got in line. A benign few moments passed until I noticed something: the lady in front of me was also wearing pajamas. Hers were red, silk pajamas with a Japanese looking print. I stood, unobserved, and studied her, contemplating the fact that two different people who weren't even together had both come shopping in their pajamas.
Then the cash register, which doesn't seem to operate like any other cash register in the rest of the world, went haywire and wouldn't accept her check. So I had wait for several more minutes while the cashier scanned and rescanned and then for no apparent reason was able to suddenly put the check through.
I glanced once more at the red-pajama lady as she exited the store, and that's when I noticed that she was also wearing red houseslippers. They matched perfectly. Either she wasn't trying at all to pass off her pajamas as an outfit, or, by wearing matching slippers, she was. I don't know.
Just as I was checking out, a customer asked for the bathroom keys. (I wasn't aware the Dollar Store had a bathroom, and I can't fathom lingering there long enough to need it.) The cashier handed her an object that the keys were fastened to, like in gas stations. Peripherally, I saw that it was not the typical wooden block, and it registered with me what it was just as the customer said, "Oh -- a fly-swatter." Yes, the keys were fastened to a pink fly-swatter. Whether it is also used to swat flies remains a mystery.
I quickly left, making it into my truck just as somebody's stringy-haired, tattooed brother or husband (or both) had fixed a hard stare on me.
I am thinking I might wear my Longhorn pajamas from now on only to the Dollar Store
Part II
Remember how last time I bought water at Dollar General, the strange lady who checked me out said she had to scan all eleven jugs, but was very secretive about why, then gave me a reason that made no sense? Well, the next time I bought water, I was checked out by one of the managers who scanned only one jug repeatedly. I told her about the other clerk, and she seemed to think that was as crazy as I had.
Tonight, I went in for my eleven jugs, and I saw, with some disappointment, that O.C. (Obsessive Clerk) was on duty. I made my way back to the water and happened to pass the manager I had once spoken to. "Hey!" she said. "We have it!" She was referring to the water, which she knew I'd come for.
"OK," I said, then I added, "That clerk that scanned all eleven is here."
"Oh, OK." she said.
When I approached the counter with the water, I asked, "Do you need to scan all eleven jugs?"
"Yes," the clerk replied with an earnestness that implied the critical nature of these transactions.
I hoped the manager would pop out at that moment with an "A-HA! I caught you inconveniencing this lady and it will stop TODAY!" but she didn't.
So I took the initiative. "Is that one of the managers?" I pointed back toward the manager.
"It's the assistant manger," O.C. replied.
"Well, she scanned only one jug eleven times---" I was cut off by the sudden apperance of said manager. Better late than never. She quickly marched to the counter and, speaking in a loud and deliberate manner, informed O.C. that if she used the handheld scanner and scanned one jug eleven times, it would be the same as scanning each one individually. She repeated this concept -- of it being the same as scanning each one individually-- several times, perhaps even eleven, as if it took one explanation for every jug to satisfy O.C. She even talked her through the first couple scans, and it was after that that O.C. quit trying to protest. The manager then gave other examples of things that O.C. would not want to scan individually, such as 10 giant bags of dogfood. O.C. finally retreated into silence.
I had a difficult time looking O.C. in the eye as I paid. I felt that I had truly thrown off her day by not allowing her to scan all eleven water jugs. But I also couldn't help feeling triumphant as I wheeled the cart past the register and out the door. There are so few things we can control in life, particularly at Dollar General where I have been subjected to many things, including the marital strife of a redneck couple, a snake in the grocery aisle, and once a trapped and confused moth that I couldn't reach. I can't even get my own students to stop talking or my dogs to quit jumping on my face when I'm in bed. So, yeah, this was definitely a victory in my day.
Tonight, I went in for my eleven jugs, and I saw, with some disappointment, that O.C. (Obsessive Clerk) was on duty. I made my way back to the water and happened to pass the manager I had once spoken to. "Hey!" she said. "We have it!" She was referring to the water, which she knew I'd come for.
"OK," I said, then I added, "That clerk that scanned all eleven is here."
"Oh, OK." she said.
When I approached the counter with the water, I asked, "Do you need to scan all eleven jugs?"
"Yes," the clerk replied with an earnestness that implied the critical nature of these transactions.
I hoped the manager would pop out at that moment with an "A-HA! I caught you inconveniencing this lady and it will stop TODAY!" but she didn't.
So I took the initiative. "Is that one of the managers?" I pointed back toward the manager.
"It's the assistant manger," O.C. replied.
"Well, she scanned only one jug eleven times---" I was cut off by the sudden apperance of said manager. Better late than never. She quickly marched to the counter and, speaking in a loud and deliberate manner, informed O.C. that if she used the handheld scanner and scanned one jug eleven times, it would be the same as scanning each one individually. She repeated this concept -- of it being the same as scanning each one individually-- several times, perhaps even eleven, as if it took one explanation for every jug to satisfy O.C. She even talked her through the first couple scans, and it was after that that O.C. quit trying to protest. The manager then gave other examples of things that O.C. would not want to scan individually, such as 10 giant bags of dogfood. O.C. finally retreated into silence.
I had a difficult time looking O.C. in the eye as I paid. I felt that I had truly thrown off her day by not allowing her to scan all eleven water jugs. But I also couldn't help feeling triumphant as I wheeled the cart past the register and out the door. There are so few things we can control in life, particularly at Dollar General where I have been subjected to many things, including the marital strife of a redneck couple, a snake in the grocery aisle, and once a trapped and confused moth that I couldn't reach. I can't even get my own students to stop talking or my dogs to quit jumping on my face when I'm in bed. So, yeah, this was definitely a victory in my day.
Part 1
Every two weeks I go to our local dollar store and buy 11 gallons of water for my fish tank water change. (Our well water keeps the PH too high.) The ladies that check me out are used to me, and they just scan one of my gallons 11 times. This evening I was purchasing water and some facial cream. For whatever reason, the facial cream was not available on the shelf, but there was a notice that I had to get it from the cashier.
I approached the counter and noticed that the cashier was a lady I’d never seen before.
“I have water,” I said, “and I also want some Neutrogena facial cream.”
She stared at me.
“It…says I have to get it from the cashier.” I stammered.
She turned slowly to observe the shelves behind her. “It must be back here.” She perused the shelves as I described the boxes -- which she was standing directly in front of -- that I wanted. Almost immediately she put her hand on one of them.
“That’s it! And the one next to it.” I said. However, she remained frozen for a good long time, even as I described in detail the appearance of the boxes I wanted. Once she was satisfied she had selected the correct items, I had to wait another good while for her to move the boxes behind my chosen boxes into their place and arrange the display as it had been.
She returned with the boxes, eyed my gallons of water and said, "How many do you have?"
"Eleven," I replied, setting one on the conveyer belt.
She looked at me. "I have to scan them all."
"Oh," I said in some surprise. "Normally they just scan one eleven times. I buy these all the time." However, I kept a smile as I began unloading the waters onto the conveyer belt.
"We aren't allowed to do that anymore," she said firmly.
"Oh, ok." I said. I continued unloading the gallons. "Why is that? Is it so I can't accuse you of charging me eleven times for one item?"
I had meant this as a joke (as my smile should have indicated), but she did not seem to find it funny. She stared at me until I regretted opening my mouth. Thinking perhaps that the cashiers hadn’t been told why, I erased my smile and asked, hesitantly, “Do you know why?”
She continued staring at me as she scanned the waters. A minute or so later, she replied, “Yes, I know why.” And she said nothing more.
Apparently, I had crossed the line by probing into a Cashier Black Ops situation.
I remained respectfully quiet as I paid for my items, and just as I was about to leave, she said, “You have a nice day…and the reason we have to scan them all is because we have such a high turnover. We have so many new people and we don’t want them going “Scan…back…scan…back…” and she demonstrated passing a gallon through, then reversing it for a second scan, and so on…
Pretending this was a perfectly logical explanation, I smiled, “Oh that’s fine – it doesn’t bother me,” then I wished her a good evening and left.
So maybe I’m missing something, but it never made any sense to me. I don’t mind having to scan each gallon 11 times – I mind not being prepared for the cashier’s strange reaction to my mild curiosity. But oh well, just some more weirdness for fodder.
.
I approached the counter and noticed that the cashier was a lady I’d never seen before.
“I have water,” I said, “and I also want some Neutrogena facial cream.”
She stared at me.
“It…says I have to get it from the cashier.” I stammered.
She turned slowly to observe the shelves behind her. “It must be back here.” She perused the shelves as I described the boxes -- which she was standing directly in front of -- that I wanted. Almost immediately she put her hand on one of them.
“That’s it! And the one next to it.” I said. However, she remained frozen for a good long time, even as I described in detail the appearance of the boxes I wanted. Once she was satisfied she had selected the correct items, I had to wait another good while for her to move the boxes behind my chosen boxes into their place and arrange the display as it had been.
She returned with the boxes, eyed my gallons of water and said, "How many do you have?"
"Eleven," I replied, setting one on the conveyer belt.
She looked at me. "I have to scan them all."
"Oh," I said in some surprise. "Normally they just scan one eleven times. I buy these all the time." However, I kept a smile as I began unloading the waters onto the conveyer belt.
"We aren't allowed to do that anymore," she said firmly.
"Oh, ok." I said. I continued unloading the gallons. "Why is that? Is it so I can't accuse you of charging me eleven times for one item?"
I had meant this as a joke (as my smile should have indicated), but she did not seem to find it funny. She stared at me until I regretted opening my mouth. Thinking perhaps that the cashiers hadn’t been told why, I erased my smile and asked, hesitantly, “Do you know why?”
She continued staring at me as she scanned the waters. A minute or so later, she replied, “Yes, I know why.” And she said nothing more.
Apparently, I had crossed the line by probing into a Cashier Black Ops situation.
I remained respectfully quiet as I paid for my items, and just as I was about to leave, she said, “You have a nice day…and the reason we have to scan them all is because we have such a high turnover. We have so many new people and we don’t want them going “Scan…back…scan…back…” and she demonstrated passing a gallon through, then reversing it for a second scan, and so on…
Pretending this was a perfectly logical explanation, I smiled, “Oh that’s fine – it doesn’t bother me,” then I wished her a good evening and left.
So maybe I’m missing something, but it never made any sense to me. I don’t mind having to scan each gallon 11 times – I mind not being prepared for the cashier’s strange reaction to my mild curiosity. But oh well, just some more weirdness for fodder.
.
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