There are some brave hombres out there in the world.
You got your firefighters busting their way into burning buildings and such.
You got your city workers who crawl through sewer pipes, braving rats, mutant spiders and God knows what other subterranean horrors.
You got those people who climb to the tops of cell towers to change light bulbs and whatnot, although those people strike me as more mentally deranged than brave. Have you seen footage from one of those climbs? I have to wear an OSHA-approved safety harness to get through it, even if I’m sitting in an office chair at sea level. In fact, I got a nosebleed just thinking about it.
But when it comes to nonstop adventure on a minute-to-minute basis, does any profession beat that of the grocery store clerk? Those people see some stuff, yo.
I was in one of the stores the other night — I forget which one. I go back and forth so often, I think of all grocery stores as Shawnaford now — and there were so many problematic people moving through the lines, it seemed like it had to be some kind of hazing ritual for new clerks.
In one line, a scruffy young man wearing dark glasses could not BELIEVE that the clerk won’t accept his expired, out-of-state, duct-taped-together ID as proof that he’s old enough to buy a rack of Zima.
One line over, an older lady played a game of “But the Sign Said” with an incredibly patient and polite clerk.
The game goes like this.
Customer: “Did you just charge me full price for those granola bars? But the sign said they were four for two dollars.”
The clerk consults with the manager, who opts to offer the lower price in order to keep the peace. Exactly seven seconds pass.
Customer: “Did you just charge me for both of those bags of chips? But the sign said it was two-for-one.”
Scenario repeats and another five seconds pass.
“Did you just charge me for that case of schnapps? But the sign said schnapps is free on Mondays.”
In every other line is a customer with a cellphone pressed to her ear and who completely disregards anything the clerk says, be it a question, a greeting or a gentle request for payment.
In another line, there’s a man who is ready to throw hands with anyone who tries to tell him that his coupons are not valid, even if those coupons were issued by another store circa 1997 for products that Shawnaford doesn’t even carry.
There’s a woman trying to stuff cash into one of the credit card readers and actually gets snippy with the clerk who tries to explain why this won’t work. And a man demanding to know why they won’t take his third-party, post-dated check. And then another rousing game of “But the Sign Said” and yet another young boozehound who forgot his ID at home but who is absolutely 21 — you can ask anybody.
Not once in my many years of shopping at Shawnaford (that’s not my toilet paper, I’m buying it for a friend) have I ever seen a clerk snap at, argue with or even roll his eyes at a customer. Some of those clerks have been standing there for eight hours, enduring wave after wave of surly and confused customers, yet still they smile, and still they say “please” and “thank you” where appropriate.
These clerks require the poise and discipline of a royal guard (the ones in the puffy hats) and they require diplomacy on the fly — what do you do when a struggling old woman comes up a few dollars short of her total? Snatch the canned tuna, cheese and milk away and send her packing? Or find a way to make it work that leaves the customer’s dignity intact?
What do you do with the customers who want to fight you over a 40-cents-off coupon? What do you do with the shoppers who are mean and nasty and absolutely wrong about the conditions of the sale they are so bitterly arguing over?
I don’t know, exactly, but the clerks manage to keep almost everybody happy and the lines keep moving. I’m in awe of them as I stand here waiting to pay for my manly items so I can go on with my life.
Wait a minute, did you just charge me for that? I was under the impression that schnapps was free today.
Mark LaFlamme is a Sun Journal staff writer. No matter how surly and confused his editors are, he will always smile and say thank you. Email him at mlaflamme@sunjournal.com.
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