Can you guys keep a secret?
I hope so, because if the authorities get wind of this, I could be in real trouble...well, maybe.
Yesterday was my second day to actually work. It had been at least two weeks since I was last scheduled. (I know -- but whose schedule isn't insanely busy this time of year?!!)
As I had rather expected, some of the bookselling procedures which had just begun to feel comfortable to me the last day I was there were like new again (i.e., I had to start all over). But some things remained comfortingly the same. Like the friendly, helpful cashier on the next register. Well, not the same person, actually -- but the friendly and the helpful were the same. Just like the customers...different people, but the same patient and and the same encouraging.
Anyway, it wasn't long before I once again began to feel like I belonged there behind the cash register. We were quite busy (so busy, in fact, somebody forgot to tell me to go on my 15-minute break). I couldn't believe how quickly the time went by. Still, I enjoyed it.
Perhaps I'll tire of it after a while; but for now, there's just something so, I don't know -- agreeable -- about having each new customer step up, asking them how they're doing (always with a pleasant smile on my face, no matter how tired, hungry or thirsty I may be, or how badly I need to pee)...maybe commenting on their purchases...I actually told three different people to be sure and read them some Junie B. Jones out loud when they got home because it's just fun. (I knew my literary background was going to come in handy when I got this job!)
But wait -- I was about to tell you a secret, wasn't I...
Well, yesterday was the first time I heard that little price scanner dude referred to as "R2D2." Now if the reason for the nickname is not immediately obvious from my stunning artwork, you'll just have to trust me -- the resemblance to the Star Wars robot is uncanny. You'll also have to trust me that he's every bit as fickle as the rest of his ilk! As a matter of fact, next to those staticky plastic -- albeit recycled -- bags, the only job-related unpleasantness I've experienced thus far has been at the "hands" of Mr. R2D2.
Be that as it may, let me go on record right now as saying that I would never do anything to deliberately hurt him -- no matter how many times he stubbornly refused to read those mysterious price codes! As annoying as that can be, I don't know what issues he may be dealing with...I certainly wouldn't want to trade places with him (or with one of those infernal bags, for that matter)! If he seems just a little bit picky about the angle at which he likes to have items passed in front of his disproportionately large eye...well, I probably have some annoying little quirks of my own that I'm unaware of. Live and let live is what I say. Truly, I would never do anything to hurt the little guy...
Still, it did happen at one point...actually, during one of his more cooperative periods...so you have to believe me when I say it was an accident! Somehow I just sort of bumped him with my hand. and he fell over.
Now this sort of thing had already happened several times during my relatively short tenure as a bookseller. If you've ever spent any time with me -- if you've ever eaten a meal with me, had drinks with me -- you're probably saying, "Well, duh! Imagine that!" That's ok. I deserve it. But just as I didn't mean to spill my beer on you, I didn't mean for that scanner to fall so hard, smacking his little face on the counter like that. It really was an accident!
Now I think the timing here is notable...I had just completed a nice cash transaction. I was feeling quite pleased, because R2D2 had been good, the customer was nice, and everything had seemed to go off without a hitch. The cash drawer was closed and the customer was walking away when our little "mishap" occurred. I was just getting ready to announce that I could "help the next customer down here," when I happened to notice that the monitor on my cash register read "needs a pick-up."
Now I knew it couldn't be referring to me -- I had not even mentioned my missed break to one single person! At first I thought that perhaps they were going to arrest my customer, but that didn't seem likely, either -- she was one of the nice people who had bought some Junie B. Jones!
That's when I realized that poor R2D2 had completely come off of his little stand, and was lying face-down on the counter. I immediately picked-him-up, and the words disappeared. (I swear -- if we hadn't been so rushed, I would have taken a moment just to appreciate the adorableness of a scanner that can signal a monitor to let someone know when he needs a helping hand!) Whew! But after the next customer, the same thing happened. (Not knocking R2D2 down -- just the "needs a pick-up" message.) So I adjusted the scanner in his holder, and again, the message went away.
But when the same thing happened yet a third time, well, I think that was when when I may have handled R2D2 a little more roughly than I intended. Because now he started beeping frantically, like a bomb about to go off. (Yikes --That got Head Cashier's attention!)
In looking back, I can see that I probably should have summoned Head Cashier when I first got the signal that someone needed to be picked up. But she was busy, too. Besides -- I felt as if I'd already bothered her enough. Once all the racket started,however, she couldn't concentrate on her customers, anyway. She came over and told me to jiggle the little guy's tail -- I mean cord -- around until he got quiet.
Well, apparently that's like telling a little kid to stop crying or you're going to give him something to cry about -- it just doesn't work. By then, Head Cashier had noticed that obnoxious message on my monitor, and she said, "Oh, you need a pick-up."
Me?!!!! Why me?!!!
"You have too much cash in your drawer...You need a pickup."
Well, how would I know unless someone told me? And why would anyone tell me unless I asked? That message, coincidentally timed to come up at the exact moment when R2D2 decided to go all theatrical on me, simply referred to the condition of my cash drawer!
I still don't know what R2D2's problem was -- or what personal responsibility I must claim for causing his angst -- because by then it was time for me to go home. I just hope he's in a better mood when I go back there in a couple of days. And I hope no one will be able to understand him if he starts blabbing about how I knocked him down, and then maybe "squeezed" him a little too hard when I was trying to get him to stand up again. Actually, I hope maybe they will have fired him -- or at least reassigned him -- before I go back.
Sigh. Why do there always have to be problems with the "people" you work with?
Oh -- did I ask you not to tell anyone else about this? Thanks -- that's swell of you!
No comments:
Post a Comment