Go ahead and ask me

"Was your store clean today?"
"Was your cashier friendly"
"Did your cashier greet you?"

I'm a customer and I've just spent three hours in Wal-Mart. I'm feeding my toddler Goldfish crackers to stop another screaming fit. I couldn't find the dog food by the rest of the groceries, and when I did find it, I was concerned about all the recalls I've heard about. I just about got run over by an overzealous stocker with a pallet jack. I was fourth in line at the register and finally got my stuff loaded on the belt. Now I just want to stand here and let someone ring up my cartload of merchandise and get home. "Was your cashier friendly?"

Wal-Mart must be in sweeps season, like the Nielsen ratings. There are surveys on the card reader and surveys on the register tape. I have no idea whether the surveys will actually change anything in our store. Personally, considering the bathroom situation in our store, I will never answer the "Was your store clean today?" question "Yes." It is impossible to clean sandstone surface tile that 500 people walk on, drip on, track mud on. And when the definition of clean bathrooms to one of our maintenance people is "put up towel, fill TP holders, sweep a little and spray a lot of disinfectant and run," it's not getting better soon.

Outside of customer initiated surveys, we have Store Trak, a national telephone poll surveying company. They compared our prices, store appearance, guest assistance, etc. with other grocery and discount stores. We have a lock on the "low prices" category. But on store cleanliness and staff questions, we are constantly getting beat. Biggest? Sure. Most selection? Yes. But Wal-Mart has still not instilled enough pride in its troops to make us No. 1 in everything.

I admit, if I ran the store, a couple of staff would go away within the first 20 minutes. If you're really not happy working here, do us both a favor. Find something to do that makes you happy. It's almost as easy to put a smile on your face and welcome the people who pay your paycheck than to frown and work with constant attitude. A colleague and I were discussing a fellow staff member after she stomped past us at the beginning of her shift. "If she were any friendlier, it would be dangerous," she said. Apparently, night help is hard to come by. I've had customers walk past me, complaining about lack of service, or cashiers that don't say a word to them at the register. C'mon.

Sam Walton said something like "The feeling customers have when they leave your store determines how soon they'll be back." (After a recent trip to Target, I know how true that is, but I won't bash the competition.) The same is true for my store. Do your job, but what the heck -- why not spread some goodwill as you do it?

Singing Irishman

Anything can happen to you at the register. Anything...although I'm still waiting for an alien abduction. I've gotta admit, I think that's getting closer.

I've been persecuted, proselytized and praised. I've had psuedo-conversations with tourists and other assorted guests. But I've never been serenaded...until this weekend. Couple in their 60s. Wife is unloading groceries from a full cart onto the belt. Husband is at the register, maybe to see if I overcharge them, maybe to wait until I fill a few bags to put them into the cart. So I think. Actually, he's just conversation-starved, I come to realize.

He starts quizzing me. Staring at my nametag -- "That's good Irish name." Actually, I didn't think so, but I am partly Irish. So I smile and nod, and he goes into a full Irish brogue. And asking me if I really know what "Erin Go Braugh" means. Doesn't it mean something about drink a lot of green beer on March 17? Not hardly. Then he starts into an Irish folk song -- while the six-bag carousel is full, and his wife is still unloading the cart. Had I been filling the belt, I would have added a roll of duct tape. We have those at registers, in the impulse merchandise. (Digressing, a guest just told me that duct tape is "The Force" because it's light on one side, dark on the other, and holds the universe together.)

No, I can't join in. Nor do I want to. I just check groceries as fast as I can scan. I think the best thoughts I can -- he's lonely, he could have been a mean jerk, he might actually get the idea and load bags if I start pulling them off. He does, but the banter continues. The lady finishes and pays. I smile and thank them, and realize I may get 10-15 minutes of him, but his partner has to hear that all the time. Lucky her.