The Phantom Tollbooth

I walked into the stockroom and discovered we had received a large package. Mostly white, (possibly a counter?) with cardboard at either end (for protection), and wrapped in saran wrap.  It was about eight feet tall and three feet wide. The labeling was unclear, and it said that any damages must be documented within 72 hours. I was walking around it, contemplating a Stephen King-like scenario involving this thing when I hear,
"Thats' not for you."
It was my boss, creeping around previously unheard.
"I wasn't going to open it. I was just wondering what it was. You know what it reminds me of? The tollbooth, from The Phantom Tollbooth. Milo gets it to relieve his boredom...and this has come to make my day more interesting. You know what I'm talking about?"
He nodded like he did, but I wasn't convinced. I took this opportunity to suggest corporate sponsors an anger management class for certain employees.

Employee Discount

In order to get the employee discount, via me, I need a head nod or a shout from a coworker, an insurance card, or a valid pay stub card. For the most part, if I've seen the card once, I won't need to see it again. Except if I don't like you, or if the higher-ups have been emphasing checking the stubs. 

This guy who has always been rude to me, is the father of a manager of another store. Apparently they live together (not that unusual, I guess) but he never has any proof that he lives with an employee. He has been coming in since I started working.

Usually someone vouches for him, but lately everyone has been telling me to tell him to bring in his goddamn card. Me telling him that results in me getting yelled at. Today he told me he is going to stop asking me for the discount. Finally. 

Power Outage

Ok, what had happened was...
I didn't post on Wednesday because I was getting ready to leave town to go to a family reunion. Obviously my excitement over going on a vaycay trumped my need to story-ize the minute details of my idiotic work life.
But I have do have time to story-ize what happened today: When I walked in at 8:26 am, the emergency lights were on, the doors were opened halfway, the lights in break-room were off...obviously  the power had gone out. The girl at the front was using a calculator to ring people up. After I punched in, my manager asked if I knew how to calculate the sales tax.
"Hell, no son! Remedial math, all through high school! I'm kind of dumdum when it comes to math..."
A few minutes later I went back over to him and asked him to show me how to do it. We had a whole system going on...the girl at the register would write down the UPC of the items, the guy from photo was calculating the item price plus sales tax, the girl would add everything up and get and give the right change. I was running (yes, literally running) around getting the price of all the customer's items. Some people were very understanding, and were willing to wait around, while others had idiotic questions like,
"Is there something wrong with the registers?"
The whole power outage lasted about forty-five minutes, but it felt like a lot longer. And then our clocks were all different so I wasn't a hundred percent sure what time it was...like a retail time warp. Freaky.

The Best Husband

I complimented one of my elderly regulars on her big locket. After she finally heard me, she was quite pleased. After she paid and stood around for a minute, she came back to show it to me in detail. She opened it up to reveal a picture of her (much younger) and her now-deceased husband. She had such joy in her eyes when she talked about him. Apparently he was a fantastic husband. Every night before they went to bed he would kiss her and tell her she was the best thing that ever happened to him. I love it...
But then she thought I was single because I'm "still a baby."

SuperLate

All I know if I was 34 minutes late I would be super-stressed. And apologetic. And I wouldn't blame only the outside forces, I would acknowledge my inability to get ready on time. Thats just me, though.
(But let the record show that I have never been 34 minutes late...to this job anyway.)

Flamin' Hots and Mullets

Pretty early this morning this guy comes with a part along the back of his head. Above the part he's got his salt n' pepper hair combed forward into a side-swept paigeboy look. And below the part, his hair was in a long ponytail, almost to the center of his back. That is one helluva mullet.

I rung up a couple of Asian guys for $27 worth of Flamin' Hots. They bought eight of our largest bags. Yes, I was wondering why this was happening. And the guy must have known that look and said they were from Canada, and Canada doesn't have Flamin' Hots. So there you go.

"Everybody gets coupons. Not me though".
said the older Indian guy after watching two people in front of him receive long print-outs from our Catalina. He got no print-outs. Not even our most frequent one. How sad.

Neighborhood Kids

This kid I've seen before came in with two I haven't. They rushed in, shouting at each and about the pop they wanted to buy. The kid I knew is a smallish or young white boy and the two boys I didn't were bigger Assyrians. The little one kept picking up stuff (pop, hot chips, candy) the others wanted him to buy. They came up three times and the first two times the little guy didn't have enough money. The other two were laughing and talking (in Assyrian) behind him, and he kept looking back at them, with some stress.
When I did ring him up, he would say he didn't want his change because he didn't need it. I urged him to take it, because I assumed he was only saying that to impress them.
It made me sad to see what I was seeing. The little white boy had been in a similar situation with an older kid I've seen before. I felt like the little boy was being taken advantage of, and that he didn't seem to know who his real friends were. (Maybe he doesn't have any real friends.)
 I told all this to the cop I was ringing up. And I mentioned that I usually know what kids belong to what parents. But that little guy, I've never seen his parents. And I mentioned other things to the cop that would illustrate my keen detective skills.
After I rung her up, she went and talked to the group of boys. They seemed only sort-of interested.