PMs

For those of you who don't know, PM stands for Promotional Money (or maybe Monies) and we get it by selling the stuff at the register. So whenever I ask you if you want Reece's, M&Ms, or Hershey's the answer is always "yes." I get money put into my PM account, which then transfers over to my actual check. When people comment on my incessant asking, I always say that it is my legal hustling.

I was employed for about six months before anyone said anything about the PMs. So in order to get good job karma points, I told the new girl about printing her register report, about PMs and suggestive sales. And I told her that it changes monthly. She thanked me for letting her know all this. And I saved her from a Crazy Coupon Lady. So that adds on a few more karma points.

Cosmetics

I finally got off the register today. My boss came over to ask if I wanted her (the new girl) to stay at the register, or if I wanted her to go to cosmetics to put up totes. I said that because I only got three hours of sleep, I might do better working on the totes.

On my last 15, I look for my sunglasses that are somewhere around the store. I check in the office and at all the registers, but I can't find them. After I clock out, one of my co-workers mention they might have gotten put out by the baler by another co-worker. And they were! "You're a G." I told him.

Zombies!

One of my regulars came in today. She had a itty-bitty purple bruise just under her eye, near the middle of her face. And surrounding the itty-bitty bruise was a big ol' yellow bruise. In fact, almost half her face was a yellow bruise. I bet she was punched in the face. But that is because I often think worst-case scenario.

Sometimes when I look up from my register I see people with their carts approaching from several different aisles. They all seem to be merging towards me and it makes me think of the zombies. You know, the ones from that movie where people get trapped at the mall and besides being a cool horror movie it is also a commentary on the consumerism in America. I always call for backup when I see the zombies approaching.

New Management

I forgot an important password today. I forgot how to log into my employee account.

There is a posting in the office about a management position opening. I think I will apply, even though I'm pretty sure I'll be turned down. That is, if I can remember my damn password.

Lollipops

A tall, kind of goofy looking gentleman comes in pretty frequently. He wears hip rubber bracelets and a fanny pack. I believe he is mentally unwell. While on my break one day, a car is waiting to turn right out of our parking lot. The car is in the way of the sidewalk and this guys kicks the car and starts screaming
"Get out of my way! Get the fuck out of my way!"
Another time one of my regulars was in front of him buying cigarettes and he kept saying
"I don't smoke. So I have money for milk."
Obviously, he was purchasing milk. I noticed he buys a lot of lollipops. Only a certain brand. We chat about them sometimes. Today he said he was saving the one he was buying today for Friday. He only eats the lollipops on Friday or Saturday night. He didn't need to buy one for this Saturday because he was going out. I said
"Isn't it a little early to be buying your lollipop for Friday?"
He said no, because he has a special spot he puts them that he only looks at on Friday and Saturday night. Sometimes he purchases them for a few weekends at a time. As he was leaving, I noticed one of the head pharmacists give him a crazy look. I said
"What's that look for, man? You don't like him?"
He proceeded to tell me that this gentleman couldn't get his prescription filled and he freaked out! He threw himself on the floor, screaming and looking like he might be having a seizure. He was really upset and was swearing, yelling and screaming. I am surprised I missed it. I usually have a sixth sense about stuff that like going on in my store. So because of that freak-out, pharmacy does not like that man. I do, because I appreciate his Lollipop schedule.

New Management

I felt a little out of it and just a tad stupid for the part of my workday.
The good news is that one of my old managers filled in today. It was nice to work with him again.

I "got paid" to buy a protein/energy bar. The product was $1.60 and I had a 55 cent coupon. My discount rang up the product as $1.39. I got a $1.60 coupon for my next in-store purchase. I bought two. Separately, of course.

The Bus Is Here!

There is a bus of elderly people who arrive about once a month or maybe once every two weeks. Every time they come in, they put a strain on our crew. They are short-tempered, confused, hard to please, and hard of hearing. They often come in with cosmetics products that weren't made in decades or ones we don't carry. There is usually one or two attendants for about six of the elders. I try to be nice and courteous to them, but it can be very difficult.
One of the elders came up to my register with a Covergirl foundation and a blush. The deal we have this week is buy one get one at 50% off. She didn't realize the foundation was about twice as much as the blush and wanted to know why it was so expensive. Then she said she didn't want the foundation. So I rung her up for just the blush. She went to go sit at a then unused register and discovered the foundation wasn't in her bag. She starts yelling to me, asking where it was. I am in the middle of ringing up a loud Russian woman, who was only sort-of polite, so I told the elder to wait until I finished so I could help her. She told me she did want the foundation, so I rung it up for her, and I realized my line has quadrupled. I handed it back, she told me to open it for her. A few minutes later she is yelling to me again saying I didn't give her her change. Which of course I did, because she found it in her coat pocket a few minutes later.
Another elder in a wheelchair yelled to me from the front door, asking who was here. I asked her who she needed to speak to, and she told me to start naming names and she would choose somebody. I started listing a few of us off, but then had to tell her her first choice had temporarily left the country. She asked for another woman on staff. When I called my co-worker to the front:
"What, Kim? What?!"
"That woman needs help."
"In cosmetics?"
"Probably. She asked for a woman."
"I'm not in cosmetics!"
"What do you want me to do? She asked for a woman, I can't help her from behind this register, and the rest of the staff are men. What do you want me to do?"
She and I didn't speak for the rest of the day.