Thou Shalt Be Patient with Incompetent Cashiers (or Not)
Several days ago a facebook friend cross-posted a rant about self-checkout in stores and how eeeevil it is. I commented about how much I love self-checkout-- I don't have to make awkward small talk with strangers, I don't have to turn down credit card or donation offers, I get to bag things the way I like, and usually I'm faster than the cashiers are. So for me, why not choose self-checkout? It's a lifesaver!! Someone else commented all about how shortsighted we self-checkouters (is that a word?) are and how it's all going to result in massive unemployment and increased cost of living for everyone else.
The economic argument aside (which is pretty far-fetched), I was baffled at the vitriol. But extreme reactions seem to be the mode of internet life nowadays, especially on social media. Anyway, at the end of my grocery shopping trip today, I came up to my usual self-checkout stands (the ones with conveyor belts so you can do a large order) and they were already busy. Terence wasn't with me (normally we grocery shop together-- Mondays we typically combine errands and "alone time") so I knew I would be slower anyway without a partner. So I decided to go find a regular register. I kind of smiled to myself as I did so, thinking of the angry facebook commenter, and figured just this once I'd be noble and give a human cashier a reason to exist (yes, that is snark). I joined a line only to be told by the cashier that there was no waiting at the next register over. So I lugged my cart over to the next register, just in time for my new cashier to repeatedly comment, in a half-joking manner, that his coworker's day was made because she'd managed to send an order his direction when he was getting a break. And more than once he complained that it was a full cart load as well. (This was the dude staffing the cigarette counter, which once upon a time used to be a "speedy checkout" lane. Not anymore.)
It irritated a bit, especially since he wouldn't shut up about it (the joke got old by the third pass) but I just smiled faintly and started to load my stuff as quickly as possible onto the conveyor belt. I'm really picky about this-- to be honest, my time as a teenage bagger has made a snob about how my groceries get bagged. And I've learned the best chance I have of getting things bagged the way I want is to load them on the conveyor in OCD order in hopes that my cold stuff will get bagged together and my cleaning products will not end up on top of my bread. Even still I was way faster than the cashier. Took forever to get all my stuff up on the conveyor belt because it was inching forward at glacial speed. I told myself to be patient, it would all be over soon anyway, even if I had a snail-paced cashier. Finally, the cart was empty except for a flat of water and two boxes of soda on the bottom of the cart. I pushed the cart forward so the guy could scan them, and without a word, he handed me his scanner to do it myself.
OK. No biggie. I know how to scan stuff. But while I was trying to wrangle the soda boxes around the get the bar codes, the man told me, "That's why I gave you the scanner. If the bar codes aren't turned up I make the customer do it." Said in quite an arrogant "you got what you deserve" tone of voice.
Really??? I'm afraid that dissolved the last of my goodwill toward him. I actually said something out loud about how I might as well have gone to self-checkout. In return the man treated me to a long dissertation about how bad his knees are, how hard it is to work, he should just retire, he doesn't want to have knee surgery but probably will have to someday, he's been in multiple motorcycle accidents, yada, yada, yada. Honestly, by this point I quit listening. Remember the part about how I hate awkward conversations with strangers? Ugh. I couldn't even bring myself to make polite comments in return. Especially since he was now scanning my items at slower-than-frozen-molasses-pace and I didn't want to slow the process even further.
Then the computer stopped him, wanting him to try to get me to buy a warranty on my new electric toothbrush.
NO. I was kinda short with him again. Then for whatever reason he couldn't figure out how to clear it. So it took another minute of finagling for him to go on with my order. (He was about halfway through by this point. Can you feel my pain yet?) He went on to bag my refrigerated dip with my gallon-size storage bags and individually wrap (slowly and methodically) each of my spaghetti sauce jars. I gritted my teeth and tried to keep from ripping the bags off the carousel to put in the cart.
By this time I had a line behind me four or five people deep. Good thing this wasn't the "speedy checkout" anymore, right? Because it was anything but speedy. But even tortuous grocery orders come to an end eventually, and at last I inserted my chip card into the reader to pay for the groceries.
However, nothing happened. The reader didn't seem to recognize my card. Now I've used that card half a dozen times in the last four days, including at that very store, and never had a problem. So my automatic assumption was that the reader was faulty. The cashier? "Something's wrong with YOUR card," he told me haughtily. I took it out, tried it again twice, still no dice. Finally, grudgingly, he asked if I wanted him to try entering it himself.
NO, doofus, I'm just going to shrug and leave my groceries since your reader doesn't work. Yeah, I was in a really bad mood by this point. But the worst was yet to come. Instead of taking my card and trying to slide in on his end (which was what I expected, having seen other cashiers do it before), he proceeded to manually type in my credit card info-- the full number, expiration date, and the CCV code-- while repeating it all OUT LOUD. If I'd had any sense I would have interrupted him and demanded my card back and called a manager. (My husband the cop freaked out when I told him this later. Apparently it is not an unknown scam to do something like this, with a recorder on to capture all the details for later use.)
OH my heavens.
I am so done.
Self-checkout only from here on out!!!
The economic argument aside (which is pretty far-fetched), I was baffled at the vitriol. But extreme reactions seem to be the mode of internet life nowadays, especially on social media. Anyway, at the end of my grocery shopping trip today, I came up to my usual self-checkout stands (the ones with conveyor belts so you can do a large order) and they were already busy. Terence wasn't with me (normally we grocery shop together-- Mondays we typically combine errands and "alone time") so I knew I would be slower anyway without a partner. So I decided to go find a regular register. I kind of smiled to myself as I did so, thinking of the angry facebook commenter, and figured just this once I'd be noble and give a human cashier a reason to exist (yes, that is snark). I joined a line only to be told by the cashier that there was no waiting at the next register over. So I lugged my cart over to the next register, just in time for my new cashier to repeatedly comment, in a half-joking manner, that his coworker's day was made because she'd managed to send an order his direction when he was getting a break. And more than once he complained that it was a full cart load as well. (This was the dude staffing the cigarette counter, which once upon a time used to be a "speedy checkout" lane. Not anymore.)
It irritated a bit, especially since he wouldn't shut up about it (the joke got old by the third pass) but I just smiled faintly and started to load my stuff as quickly as possible onto the conveyor belt. I'm really picky about this-- to be honest, my time as a teenage bagger has made a snob about how my groceries get bagged. And I've learned the best chance I have of getting things bagged the way I want is to load them on the conveyor in OCD order in hopes that my cold stuff will get bagged together and my cleaning products will not end up on top of my bread. Even still I was way faster than the cashier. Took forever to get all my stuff up on the conveyor belt because it was inching forward at glacial speed. I told myself to be patient, it would all be over soon anyway, even if I had a snail-paced cashier. Finally, the cart was empty except for a flat of water and two boxes of soda on the bottom of the cart. I pushed the cart forward so the guy could scan them, and without a word, he handed me his scanner to do it myself.
OK. No biggie. I know how to scan stuff. But while I was trying to wrangle the soda boxes around the get the bar codes, the man told me, "That's why I gave you the scanner. If the bar codes aren't turned up I make the customer do it." Said in quite an arrogant "you got what you deserve" tone of voice.
Really??? I'm afraid that dissolved the last of my goodwill toward him. I actually said something out loud about how I might as well have gone to self-checkout. In return the man treated me to a long dissertation about how bad his knees are, how hard it is to work, he should just retire, he doesn't want to have knee surgery but probably will have to someday, he's been in multiple motorcycle accidents, yada, yada, yada. Honestly, by this point I quit listening. Remember the part about how I hate awkward conversations with strangers? Ugh. I couldn't even bring myself to make polite comments in return. Especially since he was now scanning my items at slower-than-frozen-molasses-pace and I didn't want to slow the process even further.
Then the computer stopped him, wanting him to try to get me to buy a warranty on my new electric toothbrush.
NO. I was kinda short with him again. Then for whatever reason he couldn't figure out how to clear it. So it took another minute of finagling for him to go on with my order. (He was about halfway through by this point. Can you feel my pain yet?) He went on to bag my refrigerated dip with my gallon-size storage bags and individually wrap (slowly and methodically) each of my spaghetti sauce jars. I gritted my teeth and tried to keep from ripping the bags off the carousel to put in the cart.
By this time I had a line behind me four or five people deep. Good thing this wasn't the "speedy checkout" anymore, right? Because it was anything but speedy. But even tortuous grocery orders come to an end eventually, and at last I inserted my chip card into the reader to pay for the groceries.
However, nothing happened. The reader didn't seem to recognize my card. Now I've used that card half a dozen times in the last four days, including at that very store, and never had a problem. So my automatic assumption was that the reader was faulty. The cashier? "Something's wrong with YOUR card," he told me haughtily. I took it out, tried it again twice, still no dice. Finally, grudgingly, he asked if I wanted him to try entering it himself.
NO, doofus, I'm just going to shrug and leave my groceries since your reader doesn't work. Yeah, I was in a really bad mood by this point. But the worst was yet to come. Instead of taking my card and trying to slide in on his end (which was what I expected, having seen other cashiers do it before), he proceeded to manually type in my credit card info-- the full number, expiration date, and the CCV code-- while repeating it all OUT LOUD. If I'd had any sense I would have interrupted him and demanded my card back and called a manager. (My husband the cop freaked out when I told him this later. Apparently it is not an unknown scam to do something like this, with a recorder on to capture all the details for later use.)
OH my heavens.
I am so done.
Self-checkout only from here on out!!!
Comments