Cold food needs to stay in the refrigerator or freezer. It's pretty simple -- even my son figured it out after he got food poisoning from drinking left-out apple juice. But we dumped a half a cart load of meat, frozen and other perishables last night. A couple had a "form of payment problem" (read that "the card was declined"), and instead of coming back 20 minutes later, they returned 2 hours later, and still couldn't pay.
OK, where are the brains? Customers, cashiers, CSM's? After they didn't return in 20 minutes, wouldn't you have found somebody to sort the food, pull the perishables and at least put them in a cooler? But no, two carts of unsorted food sitting out for 2 hours. It wouldn't have been safe to sell to them at that point, anyway.
So I sorted -- perishable, now perished food in one cart, non-perishables in the other cart. Perishables to claim out and destroy, non-perishables to restock. I left the perishables for another cashier to tag, and left with the full cart of non-perishables to restock all over grocery. Break. 2 1/2 hours of doing nothing that I expected to do.
Now, rest of the night I ended up doing returns -- clearing out things that people returned, decided they didn't want when they came to the checkout, or left lying around the store. Department staff are supposed to come up and get it, but everyone is short-handed. So we take it to their department if their bins are overflowing. Here -- restock this! Unfortunately, most of them are waiting for us with another cart of mislaid stuff that guests have left all over their department. So it's an endless circle of delivery and pickup, ala FedEx. Big difference, if I worked at FedEx, my paycheck would be better!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
I wish I had lost control this time
I'm not a violent person, but last night's customer would have persuaded St. Francis of Assisi to throw blows. How I escorted this woman to the door without putting her on the tile, I'll never know.
Without going into specifics, the photo department, me, a CSM all told her the same thing: If the deal is online, buy it online. The brick and mortar stores don't get the same deals. But she's already spent $3,000+ in our photo department (in the last week, last month, last year or her lifetime, she didn't say), and she expects she'll get what she wants.
When she doesn't, she resorts to a 4-year-old's tactics. She calls names. My CSM was the target. The name -- doesn't belong in a family blog. His verbal reaction and my facial expression matched. I could not believe this woman would drop to this unbelievably rude level. Then she repeated it, with a description. I finished her order -- +$700, and I would have liked to cancel it, tell her we didn't need her business again and tell her to go buy her camera, groceries and grill somewhere else. But her husband conveniently had started walking out the door with the cart. Probably knew what was going to happen and didn't want to be near her.
My CSM handled it better than I did -- he walked away. I finished the transaction and walked her to the door while she continued to berate our staff. I hope she never does shop here again. But I've checked her out dozens of times -- she will be back within the week -- probably tonight. Too bad the trash doesn't blow away.
Without going into specifics, the photo department, me, a CSM all told her the same thing: If the deal is online, buy it online. The brick and mortar stores don't get the same deals. But she's already spent $3,000+ in our photo department (in the last week, last month, last year or her lifetime, she didn't say), and she expects she'll get what she wants.
When she doesn't, she resorts to a 4-year-old's tactics. She calls names. My CSM was the target. The name -- doesn't belong in a family blog. His verbal reaction and my facial expression matched. I could not believe this woman would drop to this unbelievably rude level. Then she repeated it, with a description. I finished her order -- +$700, and I would have liked to cancel it, tell her we didn't need her business again and tell her to go buy her camera, groceries and grill somewhere else. But her husband conveniently had started walking out the door with the cart. Probably knew what was going to happen and didn't want to be near her.
My CSM handled it better than I did -- he walked away. I finished the transaction and walked her to the door while she continued to berate our staff. I hope she never does shop here again. But I've checked her out dozens of times -- she will be back within the week -- probably tonight. Too bad the trash doesn't blow away.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Cutting it a little close
It's 7:55 and my break is in 15 minutes. Lady with really loaded shopping cart and two boys in tow pulls up to my register. Almost immediately, my CSM comes over and shuts off my light. "Go to break after this guest."
It will be a while -- she's price-matching almost everything. After taking off a few bags and loading them into shopping cart, two boys head for Family Fun Center. More like "Give Kids Loads of Quarters and Don't Bug Me While Shopping" Center, but I digress. Mom looks vaguely familiar, but we keep talking. I keep hoping something she says will refresh my memory about where I've met her.
This is a really large order, but Mom is on the cell phone. Not talking, but repeatedly dialing. Kind of weird. As the belt starts to get emptier, she explains. Every other week, she gets a check that's deposited into her bank account at 8:00. It's 8:05, still no check. Keep scanning, she says. It will come. It ALWAYS does.
OK, my checks are direct deposited, but they come in the middle of the night, sometime. (I try to be asleep when that happens, but I doubt it's at the same moment every two weeks.) It's not at 8:00 a.m., and certainly not 8:00 P.M. There's a fair share of frozen food here. Keep scanning? Really?
The cart is getting full, the belt's now half empty, and still no check. Son #1 comes back and starts rummaging in the candy near the checkout. He comes up with a couple of sugar-laden items. Mom says he can pay for those as soon as she finishes. Few more items to go, still no check. Order finished, still no check. She tries to run the card, just to see if it went in and hasn't registered, card declined. We're looking at each other, she starts to be hesitant -- it's ALWAYS come at 8:00 before. Hmm, wonder if it might be safer to start shopping the DAY AFTER the check is supposed to come, or at least checking out closer to 9:00. I ask her if it would be OK to suspend the transaction so I can check out her son (and anyone else who happens by). My break time has come, and Mom realizes it -- "Sorry, I'm keeping you from your break."
"That's OK," I say. What I'm thinking is "This is way too much fun to turn over. I want to know how it's going to come out."
Son #2 comes back for more quarters. Mom starts digging in purse for cash. My CSM comes over and wants to know why I haven't gone to break yet, and suspends transaction. I ring up her son's candy, and she says it has to be in. I put suspended transaction back in, and card is declined once again.
Once a transaction is suspended and re-scanned, a cashier can't re-suspend it. If I abort it, I'll have to re-scan everything (or more likely, some other hapless cashier will. I'll be on break.)
Mom checks with son #1. He has a $20 bill. She's got some money, and a little more money in the car, and she says she's going to run to the car and get it.
More than half the time, when people "go to the car" after a wallet, checkbook or cash, it's not really there. It's an excuse to escape, and we're going to have a lot of groceries to put back. Kids have now gone back to the game room, so maybe she is coming back. Kids come back to register to find out where Mom went, and head out the door. I see those chances slipping away.
But there she comes. Not looking very excited. There wasn't very much money in the car. She gets back on the phone, more frantic dialing to her bank. And finally, 8:40, check is deposited. We finish the transaction, and I head to break. She promises not to cut it so close next time, but you know she will. I just will try not to be the cashier that rings her up.
It will be a while -- she's price-matching almost everything. After taking off a few bags and loading them into shopping cart, two boys head for Family Fun Center. More like "Give Kids Loads of Quarters and Don't Bug Me While Shopping" Center, but I digress. Mom looks vaguely familiar, but we keep talking. I keep hoping something she says will refresh my memory about where I've met her.
This is a really large order, but Mom is on the cell phone. Not talking, but repeatedly dialing. Kind of weird. As the belt starts to get emptier, she explains. Every other week, she gets a check that's deposited into her bank account at 8:00. It's 8:05, still no check. Keep scanning, she says. It will come. It ALWAYS does.
OK, my checks are direct deposited, but they come in the middle of the night, sometime. (I try to be asleep when that happens, but I doubt it's at the same moment every two weeks.) It's not at 8:00 a.m., and certainly not 8:00 P.M. There's a fair share of frozen food here. Keep scanning? Really?
The cart is getting full, the belt's now half empty, and still no check. Son #1 comes back and starts rummaging in the candy near the checkout. He comes up with a couple of sugar-laden items. Mom says he can pay for those as soon as she finishes. Few more items to go, still no check. Order finished, still no check. She tries to run the card, just to see if it went in and hasn't registered, card declined. We're looking at each other, she starts to be hesitant -- it's ALWAYS come at 8:00 before. Hmm, wonder if it might be safer to start shopping the DAY AFTER the check is supposed to come, or at least checking out closer to 9:00. I ask her if it would be OK to suspend the transaction so I can check out her son (and anyone else who happens by). My break time has come, and Mom realizes it -- "Sorry, I'm keeping you from your break."
"That's OK," I say. What I'm thinking is "This is way too much fun to turn over. I want to know how it's going to come out."
Son #2 comes back for more quarters. Mom starts digging in purse for cash. My CSM comes over and wants to know why I haven't gone to break yet, and suspends transaction. I ring up her son's candy, and she says it has to be in. I put suspended transaction back in, and card is declined once again.
Once a transaction is suspended and re-scanned, a cashier can't re-suspend it. If I abort it, I'll have to re-scan everything (or more likely, some other hapless cashier will. I'll be on break.)
Mom checks with son #1. He has a $20 bill. She's got some money, and a little more money in the car, and she says she's going to run to the car and get it.
More than half the time, when people "go to the car" after a wallet, checkbook or cash, it's not really there. It's an excuse to escape, and we're going to have a lot of groceries to put back. Kids have now gone back to the game room, so maybe she is coming back. Kids come back to register to find out where Mom went, and head out the door. I see those chances slipping away.
But there she comes. Not looking very excited. There wasn't very much money in the car. She gets back on the phone, more frantic dialing to her bank. And finally, 8:40, check is deposited. We finish the transaction, and I head to break. She promises not to cut it so close next time, but you know she will. I just will try not to be the cashier that rings her up.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Is there a support group for that?
Some Wal-Mart Superstores have removed their fabric and craft department. Think about it -- I bought a nice blouse for $5 on the clearance rack last night. It would have cost me more than that in fabric and buttons to make it myself (plus years of sewing lessons, but I digress). My store hasn't given up on crafts. And last night, I found out why.
Scrapbooking addicts.
I am convinced that a few scrapbookers can single-handedly keep the department afloat. Last night, lovely young lady starts piling stuff on the belt. Piles of it. The clear cellophane sticker packs. 30 different kinds of peel and stick type. Plastic stencils. Colored brads.
"I know it's going to be about $300, but I love this stuff."
Wow. $300. My part-time check at Wal-Mart isn't much more than that. This stuff isn't contagious, is it?
The yellow plastic stencil of the beach scene gets tangled with some other yellow plastic stencil. I try to carefully free them -- she grabs the beach scene out of my hand. "Oh, that's going to be hard to do, but I probably won't use the surfer dude very often anyway." Surfer dude in scrapbook in Arizona? Probably highly unlikely, but go for it.
"Don't ya just love them?" she asks, as I scan Disney stickers by the handful.
Actually, no. I have a few Disney shirts, Disney stuffed animals I bought for my son years ago, but I'm not a princess or Tinkerbell fan. I smile and keep scanning.
"I have two whole suitcases of this at home."
I explain that I don't scrapbook, don't have time, work two jobs. Her plight doesn't do anything to change my mind. I would have piles of various stickers, stamps and fancy cutters that I would use very occasionally, then store in something. Truth be told, I'm trying to un-clutter my life. "You've got to make time," she trills.
No, I don't.
"Hi, I'm at Wal-Mart, checking out," she says to her cell phone. "I got a few more scrapbooking things off their clearance shelf."
A few more? Off the clearance shelf? That explains about four items on the belt. How about the other 83? Really. 87 items, almost all full price -- and today's price comes to $380 and some change. Wonder if she will share that info with whoever was on the other end of the phone?
Without choking or gagging at all, she runs her credit card.
If I had an extra $380 in my account, I'd do a weekend in California. Donate something to the food bank. Throw a party for my son and his friends. Bolster my church parking lot fund. Join a couple of friends in a Victoria's Secret shopping spree. Buy gas (OK, slightly overstated, but not far from the truth at over $3 per gallon). Not buy decorations for a photo album that will stay in my closet for eternity.
Somewhere, someone is creating "Scrapbookers' Anonymous." This lady is the future poster child.
Scrapbooking addicts.
I am convinced that a few scrapbookers can single-handedly keep the department afloat. Last night, lovely young lady starts piling stuff on the belt. Piles of it. The clear cellophane sticker packs. 30 different kinds of peel and stick type. Plastic stencils. Colored brads.
"I know it's going to be about $300, but I love this stuff."
Wow. $300. My part-time check at Wal-Mart isn't much more than that. This stuff isn't contagious, is it?
The yellow plastic stencil of the beach scene gets tangled with some other yellow plastic stencil. I try to carefully free them -- she grabs the beach scene out of my hand. "Oh, that's going to be hard to do, but I probably won't use the surfer dude very often anyway." Surfer dude in scrapbook in Arizona? Probably highly unlikely, but go for it.
"Don't ya just love them?" she asks, as I scan Disney stickers by the handful.
Actually, no. I have a few Disney shirts, Disney stuffed animals I bought for my son years ago, but I'm not a princess or Tinkerbell fan. I smile and keep scanning.
"I have two whole suitcases of this at home."
I explain that I don't scrapbook, don't have time, work two jobs. Her plight doesn't do anything to change my mind. I would have piles of various stickers, stamps and fancy cutters that I would use very occasionally, then store in something. Truth be told, I'm trying to un-clutter my life. "You've got to make time," she trills.
No, I don't.
"Hi, I'm at Wal-Mart, checking out," she says to her cell phone. "I got a few more scrapbooking things off their clearance shelf."
A few more? Off the clearance shelf? That explains about four items on the belt. How about the other 83? Really. 87 items, almost all full price -- and today's price comes to $380 and some change. Wonder if she will share that info with whoever was on the other end of the phone?
Without choking or gagging at all, she runs her credit card.
If I had an extra $380 in my account, I'd do a weekend in California. Donate something to the food bank. Throw a party for my son and his friends. Bolster my church parking lot fund. Join a couple of friends in a Victoria's Secret shopping spree. Buy gas (OK, slightly overstated, but not far from the truth at over $3 per gallon). Not buy decorations for a photo album that will stay in my closet for eternity.
Somewhere, someone is creating "Scrapbookers' Anonymous." This lady is the future poster child.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
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?
"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.
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.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Going where you've never gone before...
I try to learn something new everyday. But most of the time, that doesn't mean at Wal-Mart. The other day, I spent 20 minutes on a guest's cell phone as the guest's brother explained to me the various differences, pros and cons, of lever-, bolt- and pump-action rifles. Still had to wait until the regular staff returned to get the answer, which was "call back during the day and talk to the department manager about a special order."
I'm not a shooter. I'm not a hunter. I know nothing about weapons, ammo or what to kill with anything you might aim at them. I camp, I hike, I photograph. I don't know why people would want to fire paint loads at each other with compressed carbon dioxide. Apparently, my son tells me they hurt a little -- maybe a bunch if you get hit a bunch. Laser tag is fun. Pain is not fun. I try to stay up with hunting seasons just enough to stay out of the woods when people with alcohol and ammunition come through.
My naivete must be why they send me to sporting goods evenings to do lunches. Same reason they send me to the tobacco register, I guess. Never smoked, never chewed, never will. So I'm a complete idiot about all things in the smoke shop. Will this stuff work in your butane lighter? Hope so, but let's not try it here. Do we have that brand, or that type? Do you see it? Then probably not.
One manager once told me that "I present myself well." I think that means I'm polite when I'm telling them I haven't got a clue what they want. I don't get sarcastic when they tell me how Wal-Mart sucks and no one has a clue. We have three kinds of cashiers: 1) Ones that "present themselves well," 2) Ones that get flustered, cry, or quit under pressure; and 3) Ones that get sarcastic, rude or throw things. Since I'm in the first category, I get thrown into the sink-or-swim situations.
Cross training is a much discussed, but never implemented idea at Wal-Mart. We're short-handed, so we don't have staff to send you there when there's someone knowledgeable there to teach you anything. But when they're missing -- sorry, you have to go cover it. Do the best you can, and call a customer service manager or assistant manager if you run into something you can't handle (which you will). What you actually learn will be anything you observe when the manager is bailing you out.
I'm not a shooter. I'm not a hunter. I know nothing about weapons, ammo or what to kill with anything you might aim at them. I camp, I hike, I photograph. I don't know why people would want to fire paint loads at each other with compressed carbon dioxide. Apparently, my son tells me they hurt a little -- maybe a bunch if you get hit a bunch. Laser tag is fun. Pain is not fun. I try to stay up with hunting seasons just enough to stay out of the woods when people with alcohol and ammunition come through.
My naivete must be why they send me to sporting goods evenings to do lunches. Same reason they send me to the tobacco register, I guess. Never smoked, never chewed, never will. So I'm a complete idiot about all things in the smoke shop. Will this stuff work in your butane lighter? Hope so, but let's not try it here. Do we have that brand, or that type? Do you see it? Then probably not.
One manager once told me that "I present myself well." I think that means I'm polite when I'm telling them I haven't got a clue what they want. I don't get sarcastic when they tell me how Wal-Mart sucks and no one has a clue. We have three kinds of cashiers: 1) Ones that "present themselves well," 2) Ones that get flustered, cry, or quit under pressure; and 3) Ones that get sarcastic, rude or throw things. Since I'm in the first category, I get thrown into the sink-or-swim situations.
Cross training is a much discussed, but never implemented idea at Wal-Mart. We're short-handed, so we don't have staff to send you there when there's someone knowledgeable there to teach you anything. But when they're missing -- sorry, you have to go cover it. Do the best you can, and call a customer service manager or assistant manager if you run into something you can't handle (which you will). What you actually learn will be anything you observe when the manager is bailing you out.
A tourist in the garden center
Sunday. And a four-hour shift. What is the computer in Bentonville smoking?
Scheduling hasn't gotten much smoother. We're short cashiers and the schedule still spits out oddball shifts. 7 1/2 or even 4 hours instead of 8. Then after you've made other plans, they want to know if you want to stay.
Saturday they sent me to the garden center. "You'll probably be there all day." Joy. A greeter and two cashiers and the floor staff were there. What on the planet was I supposed to do? I gave the door greeter a 30 minute 15-minute break (apparently, telling time isn't a strong suit), and then gave one of the cashiers a lunch break. By the time she was back, the second cashier had gone to the front on the excuse that she needed a bathroom break and whined to a manager about the first cashier, that she had taken too long of a lunch. Get it straight -- she was fine -- the greeter was overdue. But a customer service manager came back to bawl out the first cashier and jerked me out of there. And I didn't mind a bit. That place gets scary when the temperatures warm up. The staff are scarier than the guests. At least the guests and I are on the same wavelength.
Do I know which trimmer string goes in this spool? Nope. Do I know if we'll be getting in bigger containers of Preen? Nope. Why don't we have any geraniums? Ma'am, probably because 30 customers before you snapped every one of them up, or they're still afraid they will freeze at night. I don't know if we have any more cushions in that pattern anywhere, nor do I understand why they don't have any matching drain dishes for that particular color of planter. (If it were up to me, I'd sell them as a set, not as singles.) Frankly, about all I can do is scan and bag stuff. I'll help you with that.
See my blue smock. That means I work front-end registers. I wish I had a sign to wear everytime they sent me to garden, tire and lube express or sporting goods: "I don't belong here. I don't know anything about this department. I can't advise you about guns, plants or automotive batteries, and please don't ask me to cut keys. You're lucky anyone is standing here to ring you up. But the usual suspects are all at lunch."
Scheduling hasn't gotten much smoother. We're short cashiers and the schedule still spits out oddball shifts. 7 1/2 or even 4 hours instead of 8. Then after you've made other plans, they want to know if you want to stay.
Saturday they sent me to the garden center. "You'll probably be there all day." Joy. A greeter and two cashiers and the floor staff were there. What on the planet was I supposed to do? I gave the door greeter a 30 minute 15-minute break (apparently, telling time isn't a strong suit), and then gave one of the cashiers a lunch break. By the time she was back, the second cashier had gone to the front on the excuse that she needed a bathroom break and whined to a manager about the first cashier, that she had taken too long of a lunch. Get it straight -- she was fine -- the greeter was overdue. But a customer service manager came back to bawl out the first cashier and jerked me out of there. And I didn't mind a bit. That place gets scary when the temperatures warm up. The staff are scarier than the guests. At least the guests and I are on the same wavelength.
Do I know which trimmer string goes in this spool? Nope. Do I know if we'll be getting in bigger containers of Preen? Nope. Why don't we have any geraniums? Ma'am, probably because 30 customers before you snapped every one of them up, or they're still afraid they will freeze at night. I don't know if we have any more cushions in that pattern anywhere, nor do I understand why they don't have any matching drain dishes for that particular color of planter. (If it were up to me, I'd sell them as a set, not as singles.) Frankly, about all I can do is scan and bag stuff. I'll help you with that.
See my blue smock. That means I work front-end registers. I wish I had a sign to wear everytime they sent me to garden, tire and lube express or sporting goods: "I don't belong here. I don't know anything about this department. I can't advise you about guns, plants or automotive batteries, and please don't ask me to cut keys. You're lucky anyone is standing here to ring you up. But the usual suspects are all at lunch."
Monday, March 5, 2007
Missing the bullet
Sidewalk sale. That's Wal-Mart-ese for "it wouldn't sell inside with a clearance sign over it, and now we're weeks beyond the point which it was supposed to be out of the store, so we're putting it outside, in case this new marketing approach might somehow make someone look at it."
OK, four carts with four shelves each of junk just isn't going very fast. A bunch of picture frames. IPod covers, winter blankets and throws... Better yet, on a busy Sunday, we have to keep a cashier outside to check out anything that someone wants to sell and monitor the stuff. Read that -- keep people from walking off with an entire shelving unit. God knows, they would want the shelving -- not what's on it.
I did sidewalk sale last year. After I told them that working outside in Arizona sun was hazardous duty, they didn't drag me in. Instead, they brought me water, sunscreen and a really dippy woman's hat. Actually, I probably sold more plasticware than anyone in Wal-Mart history. I figured as soon as it was gone, I could come in. I decorated the pile with a summer display. The stuff was blowing out of there -- then they found more pallets.
I shouldn't be here today. Wal-Mart doesn't want another sick cashier today, but they don't want another call-in, either. So here I am, waiting for the customer service manager, waiting for a station assignment. Usually I'm begging for a good register (odd numbers 5-13 are gold if you want the day to pass quickly), but today, I'm thinking, stash me at self-check and let me go to sleep. Under no circumstances send me outside.
"15." Not a please or a question. Is the CSM having the kind of day I am? 15 is the tobacco aisle, but it's also a no-limit lane, so it's bound to stay busy all the time. Three more times back for assignments, three more chances at the bullet. Not once did I get threatened with sidewalk sale. Maybe I do look as bad as I feel.
"What's the date on that can?" a customer asks when I pull his chaw.
"2-19"
"Don't you have any newer than that? Look in one of those stacks over there. There should be some with 2-26."
I'm thinking, you must be kidding. I'm going to open another 10-pack of Cope, just to find you cans with a better production date. Isn't there something to be said for aging? More importantly, why aren't our cashiers opening them in the right order? He shouldn't have gotten 2-26 last week if there are 2-19 cans on the shelf. But a CSM passes by just then, and he appeals his case to her, so she opens the 10-pack. Fresher chewing tobacco -- more potent to give you mouth and throat cancer?
OK, four carts with four shelves each of junk just isn't going very fast. A bunch of picture frames. IPod covers, winter blankets and throws... Better yet, on a busy Sunday, we have to keep a cashier outside to check out anything that someone wants to sell and monitor the stuff. Read that -- keep people from walking off with an entire shelving unit. God knows, they would want the shelving -- not what's on it.
I did sidewalk sale last year. After I told them that working outside in Arizona sun was hazardous duty, they didn't drag me in. Instead, they brought me water, sunscreen and a really dippy woman's hat. Actually, I probably sold more plasticware than anyone in Wal-Mart history. I figured as soon as it was gone, I could come in. I decorated the pile with a summer display. The stuff was blowing out of there -- then they found more pallets.
I shouldn't be here today. Wal-Mart doesn't want another sick cashier today, but they don't want another call-in, either. So here I am, waiting for the customer service manager, waiting for a station assignment. Usually I'm begging for a good register (odd numbers 5-13 are gold if you want the day to pass quickly), but today, I'm thinking, stash me at self-check and let me go to sleep. Under no circumstances send me outside.
"15." Not a please or a question. Is the CSM having the kind of day I am? 15 is the tobacco aisle, but it's also a no-limit lane, so it's bound to stay busy all the time. Three more times back for assignments, three more chances at the bullet. Not once did I get threatened with sidewalk sale. Maybe I do look as bad as I feel.
"What's the date on that can?" a customer asks when I pull his chaw.
"2-19"
"Don't you have any newer than that? Look in one of those stacks over there. There should be some with 2-26."
I'm thinking, you must be kidding. I'm going to open another 10-pack of Cope, just to find you cans with a better production date. Isn't there something to be said for aging? More importantly, why aren't our cashiers opening them in the right order? He shouldn't have gotten 2-26 last week if there are 2-19 cans on the shelf. But a CSM passes by just then, and he appeals his case to her, so she opens the 10-pack. Fresher chewing tobacco -- more potent to give you mouth and throat cancer?
Monday, February 26, 2007
It's 48 cents per pound, and that doesn't help me a bit
I grew up in a rural area and my mom had a huge garden. But she didn't grow everything. To this day, there are a few vegetables I don't recognize. And unless they are marked or in a bag, I'm going to have a time telling apart the various kinds of apples. OK, golden delicious, red delicious and Granny Smith are pretty easy. But is that mottled-looking one a Rome, a pink lady, a Jonagold or a gala? And then there are large and small of each variety. Applesauce sounds pretty good.
When I was in college, I applied for a cashier job at a local market. Part of the application was a produce test. Not common stuff -- the most obscure fruits and vegetables imaginable. I didn't get the job. Instead, I got a job putting housewares stuff on shelves and helping people pick out coffee makers.
It's nice that the growers place little stickers on apples to help cashiers tell them apart. Most produce carries a sticker with the 4- or 5-digit produce code. It's universal, by the way. Bananas are 4011 at Safeway, Kroger, SuperValu or good ol' Wal-Mart. And organic, on the vine tomatoes? 94664 no matter where you get them.
I have this little oddity -- I memorize stuff easily. I have phone numbers from 30 years ago stuck in my head, along with songs, dates, geographical locations I learned in grade school. Wisconsin has 72 counties, and I knew them all at one time. Still know most of them. So produce codes that I have to use pretty often? Toast. Other nearby cashiers know this -- "What's the code of those yellow peppers that look like jalapenos? Caribe peppers are 4772.
That doesn't mean I'm infallible. People bring me things I've never seen before and expect me to ring them up. Of course, those are the items without stickers. If they don't know what it is, if it's not in my "picture produce guide," I probably will have to send a customer service manager scrambling. Telling me something said 48 cents per pound isn't as helpful for inventory as punching in the right code -- although I will resort to department pricing if necessary.
Sunday took the cake -- maybe carrot cake? A customer had a selection of various produce. Couple of this, couple of that, a dozen little bags. First couple, no problem, common stuff. Garlic 4611, green beans 4066, avocados 4046. Then I hit some tomatoes. No stickers. Educated guess -- we sell lots of the hothouse Del Monte tomatoes -- 3151.
"That's not right."
"What?"
"Those tomatoes. That's way too much."
"I'm sorry. The tomatoes didn't have a produce code. Must have fallen off. Let me try another code."
"They didn't fall off. I took them off. I don't like stickers on my food."
I realized that the next 8 bags could be real fun with no stickers, so I quickly scanned the bags. Nothing that was going to be too challenging. I put the tomatoes in as the premium tomatoes -- which I figured would be more expensive. They were.
"Ma'am, do you remember how much the tomatoes were?"
"One dollar."
Uh oh. These were the Del Monte tomatoes, but sticker grabber lady saw the price for the small 3-packs and assumed it was the price per pound for these large hothouse grown ones. I explained the difference and after a bit, she remembered seeing the small tomatoes in 3-packs. "But I want these."
"OK, then we'll go back to the code for these tomatoes."
We had a couple more stutters over small vs. large lemons and small vs. large navel oranges. It could have been an ordeal for a cashier who didn't know the codes to begin with. Next time, I told her, take the stickers off at home when you wash them.
When I was in college, I applied for a cashier job at a local market. Part of the application was a produce test. Not common stuff -- the most obscure fruits and vegetables imaginable. I didn't get the job. Instead, I got a job putting housewares stuff on shelves and helping people pick out coffee makers.
It's nice that the growers place little stickers on apples to help cashiers tell them apart. Most produce carries a sticker with the 4- or 5-digit produce code. It's universal, by the way. Bananas are 4011 at Safeway, Kroger, SuperValu or good ol' Wal-Mart. And organic, on the vine tomatoes? 94664 no matter where you get them.
I have this little oddity -- I memorize stuff easily. I have phone numbers from 30 years ago stuck in my head, along with songs, dates, geographical locations I learned in grade school. Wisconsin has 72 counties, and I knew them all at one time. Still know most of them. So produce codes that I have to use pretty often? Toast. Other nearby cashiers know this -- "What's the code of those yellow peppers that look like jalapenos? Caribe peppers are 4772.
That doesn't mean I'm infallible. People bring me things I've never seen before and expect me to ring them up. Of course, those are the items without stickers. If they don't know what it is, if it's not in my "picture produce guide," I probably will have to send a customer service manager scrambling. Telling me something said 48 cents per pound isn't as helpful for inventory as punching in the right code -- although I will resort to department pricing if necessary.
Sunday took the cake -- maybe carrot cake? A customer had a selection of various produce. Couple of this, couple of that, a dozen little bags. First couple, no problem, common stuff. Garlic 4611, green beans 4066, avocados 4046. Then I hit some tomatoes. No stickers. Educated guess -- we sell lots of the hothouse Del Monte tomatoes -- 3151.
"That's not right."
"What?"
"Those tomatoes. That's way too much."
"I'm sorry. The tomatoes didn't have a produce code. Must have fallen off. Let me try another code."
"They didn't fall off. I took them off. I don't like stickers on my food."
I realized that the next 8 bags could be real fun with no stickers, so I quickly scanned the bags. Nothing that was going to be too challenging. I put the tomatoes in as the premium tomatoes -- which I figured would be more expensive. They were.
"Ma'am, do you remember how much the tomatoes were?"
"One dollar."
Uh oh. These were the Del Monte tomatoes, but sticker grabber lady saw the price for the small 3-packs and assumed it was the price per pound for these large hothouse grown ones. I explained the difference and after a bit, she remembered seeing the small tomatoes in 3-packs. "But I want these."
"OK, then we'll go back to the code for these tomatoes."
We had a couple more stutters over small vs. large lemons and small vs. large navel oranges. It could have been an ordeal for a cashier who didn't know the codes to begin with. Next time, I told her, take the stickers off at home when you wash them.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Shopping carts, anyone?
If Wal-Mart wants to pay me to check out people's groceries, that's great. If the store wants me to work for the same pay to be a people greeter, sit at a table, clean bathrooms or push carts, that's fine too. Put it another way that a friend states it: doors or windows, makes no difference to me.
When the store has been busy all day and goes dead in the evenings, cashiers get farmed out. Fold and straighten clothes in softlines. "Zone" toys. (Yes, "zone" is a verb at Wal-Mart. It means clean up after lazy customers and bratty kids that leave things all over, out of place. Put them back into prescribed places so someone else can mess it up again 5 minutes later). Giving people greeters a break is stand-around-and-smile duty. And then, there's "go push carts."
No, not push abandoned carts around the store. No, not do a carry-out for a customer. What the managers mean is, clean up all the stray carts from around the parking lot and bring them back to the entrance areas. This involves making a train of carts on the front of the little cart pusher engine and using a remote control to drive them in. Because it involves machinery, people have to be 18 to do the job, and what 18-year-old wants to be a cart pusher at Wal-Mart? So 20-, 30- and 40-somethings in other departments have to fill in for this chronically-understaffed job (the proper title is "guest clerk"). Our managers never send 70-year-old cashiers outside to push carts, which is probably some weird reverse age-discrimination, but that's another story.
Depending on the weather, this can be a nice outdoor change of pace, or a tremendous pain. It's February. It snows here. I work evenings. You figure it out. But worse yet, you are usually teamed with another person. Sometimes that's fun. Other times -- you would have been better off alone.
A couple of nights ago, it was the control freak. She had to have the remote, she had to tell me what I was doing wrong, she had to tell us where to go next. I finally just went off on my own and started lining up carts in the nearly deserted lot so she could get her kicks driving the cart pusher into them.
Worse yet, two nights before that, I was paired with a partner that couldn't grasp simple natural laws: gravity and inertia. Two things you must realize -- one, the cart pusher will stop on a dime, but the carts will keep rolling (into cart racks, cars, people....) And when our parking lot is not flat, carts will roll faster and easier downhill. She would take her finger off the button, the cart pusher would stop, and carts would keep going. Then, I'd have to grab them, and we'd have to get the pusher lined up again.
I wish all of our customers would get into the "go for 10,000 steps" exercise habit, and spend just a few of them walking carts to the "corrals." Loose shopping carts are a hazard -- I'm sure no one likes their vehicles scratched and dented by carts that aren't secured. It's also a lot easier to pick up 10 carts from the corral than scattered across the lot.
Finally, my favorite is the RV'ers who live at Wal-Marts across the country and appropriate shopping carts as their trash receptacles. You know the ones -- park at the far end of the lot and keep one cart next to the RV -- piling bags of discards into it, and leaving it there when they drive off to the next Wal-Mart. Carts covered in gook and goo from whatever oil and residue was in the bag. I know I want that cart next, not! RV parks cost money, but can you imagine telling people at the end of your life "I spent the last 15 years driving from Wal-Mart to Wal-Mart?" Wal-Mart could be a little more proactive with some trash receptacles in the lot, but until that time, please pack in/pack out.
When the store has been busy all day and goes dead in the evenings, cashiers get farmed out. Fold and straighten clothes in softlines. "Zone" toys. (Yes, "zone" is a verb at Wal-Mart. It means clean up after lazy customers and bratty kids that leave things all over, out of place. Put them back into prescribed places so someone else can mess it up again 5 minutes later). Giving people greeters a break is stand-around-and-smile duty. And then, there's "go push carts."
No, not push abandoned carts around the store. No, not do a carry-out for a customer. What the managers mean is, clean up all the stray carts from around the parking lot and bring them back to the entrance areas. This involves making a train of carts on the front of the little cart pusher engine and using a remote control to drive them in. Because it involves machinery, people have to be 18 to do the job, and what 18-year-old wants to be a cart pusher at Wal-Mart? So 20-, 30- and 40-somethings in other departments have to fill in for this chronically-understaffed job (the proper title is "guest clerk"). Our managers never send 70-year-old cashiers outside to push carts, which is probably some weird reverse age-discrimination, but that's another story.
Depending on the weather, this can be a nice outdoor change of pace, or a tremendous pain. It's February. It snows here. I work evenings. You figure it out. But worse yet, you are usually teamed with another person. Sometimes that's fun. Other times -- you would have been better off alone.
A couple of nights ago, it was the control freak. She had to have the remote, she had to tell me what I was doing wrong, she had to tell us where to go next. I finally just went off on my own and started lining up carts in the nearly deserted lot so she could get her kicks driving the cart pusher into them.
Worse yet, two nights before that, I was paired with a partner that couldn't grasp simple natural laws: gravity and inertia. Two things you must realize -- one, the cart pusher will stop on a dime, but the carts will keep rolling (into cart racks, cars, people....) And when our parking lot is not flat, carts will roll faster and easier downhill. She would take her finger off the button, the cart pusher would stop, and carts would keep going. Then, I'd have to grab them, and we'd have to get the pusher lined up again.
I wish all of our customers would get into the "go for 10,000 steps" exercise habit, and spend just a few of them walking carts to the "corrals." Loose shopping carts are a hazard -- I'm sure no one likes their vehicles scratched and dented by carts that aren't secured. It's also a lot easier to pick up 10 carts from the corral than scattered across the lot.
Finally, my favorite is the RV'ers who live at Wal-Marts across the country and appropriate shopping carts as their trash receptacles. You know the ones -- park at the far end of the lot and keep one cart next to the RV -- piling bags of discards into it, and leaving it there when they drive off to the next Wal-Mart. Carts covered in gook and goo from whatever oil and residue was in the bag. I know I want that cart next, not! RV parks cost money, but can you imagine telling people at the end of your life "I spent the last 15 years driving from Wal-Mart to Wal-Mart?" Wal-Mart could be a little more proactive with some trash receptacles in the lot, but until that time, please pack in/pack out.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
If you're using a credit card...
Let's state the moral of the story first. If you're using a credit card, have ID. And it's a very good idea to use YOUR credit card.
In 16 months, I've only refused two people use of a credit card. One, last year, when a young guy and his girl were buying a bunch of clothes and the credit card came up for verification. He handed over the card, with a woman's name on it.
"Her card?" I asked, gesturing toward his girl.
"No, my mom's," he said.
When I told him that I couldn't process the card, he was perturbed. "I've been using this all over town all day," he said. "No one has had a problem with it."
Well, just because other store autobots have been letting you get away with using someone else's card without asking for ID all day doesn't change my responsibility. My customer service manager gave him the same spiel, and he eventually only purchased a couple of items with cash. Wonder if he had the card with or without his mother's permission?
Pretty much the same situation the other night. Two young ladies, probably 21 or 22, with a cart full of Valentine stuff in self-check. Stuffed animals, cards, candy, food. The overhead light goes red as they attempt to process a card. "Check ID" situation.
"It's asking me for credit card verification. I need to see the card you used. She hands it over, and I see Nick something and a business name. OK, I have a friend named Michelle who goes by Mike, but her legal records and cards all say Michelle. I would have believed she was a Nicole, Nichol, Nicki, Niki, Nikki, Nickie or any of the millions of ways princesses spell that name, but not Nick.
"I need to see your ID."
"She starts to open a pocketbook with probably 100 cards of various kinds in it, but stops. "I don't have any. She looks at me -- irritated. "It's my company card."
"You don't have any ID? A school ID, even a Costco card with your picture on it?"
"You have a Costco card," her friend says helpfully.
"Nick" glares at her. "Not on me."
I told her I wouldn't be able to process the sale without ID. She keeps pushing. My replacement shows up. I ask her to get a manager, a customer service manager. Fortunately, one of the CSMs who backs her cashiers comes over. She listens and gives the same response. "Nick" ends up re-scanning the entire sale and paying in cash. Credit card fraud is a major issue. My guiding thought -- if it were my card, would I want a cashier erring on the side of caution, or letting it slide?
In 16 months, I've only refused two people use of a credit card. One, last year, when a young guy and his girl were buying a bunch of clothes and the credit card came up for verification. He handed over the card, with a woman's name on it.
"Her card?" I asked, gesturing toward his girl.
"No, my mom's," he said.
When I told him that I couldn't process the card, he was perturbed. "I've been using this all over town all day," he said. "No one has had a problem with it."
Well, just because other store autobots have been letting you get away with using someone else's card without asking for ID all day doesn't change my responsibility. My customer service manager gave him the same spiel, and he eventually only purchased a couple of items with cash. Wonder if he had the card with or without his mother's permission?
Pretty much the same situation the other night. Two young ladies, probably 21 or 22, with a cart full of Valentine stuff in self-check. Stuffed animals, cards, candy, food. The overhead light goes red as they attempt to process a card. "Check ID" situation.
"It's asking me for credit card verification. I need to see the card you used. She hands it over, and I see Nick something and a business name. OK, I have a friend named Michelle who goes by Mike, but her legal records and cards all say Michelle. I would have believed she was a Nicole, Nichol, Nicki, Niki, Nikki, Nickie or any of the millions of ways princesses spell that name, but not Nick.
"I need to see your ID."
"She starts to open a pocketbook with probably 100 cards of various kinds in it, but stops. "I don't have any. She looks at me -- irritated. "It's my company card."
"You don't have any ID? A school ID, even a Costco card with your picture on it?"
"You have a Costco card," her friend says helpfully.
"Nick" glares at her. "Not on me."
I told her I wouldn't be able to process the sale without ID. She keeps pushing. My replacement shows up. I ask her to get a manager, a customer service manager. Fortunately, one of the CSMs who backs her cashiers comes over. She listens and gives the same response. "Nick" ends up re-scanning the entire sale and paying in cash. Credit card fraud is a major issue. My guiding thought -- if it were my card, would I want a cashier erring on the side of caution, or letting it slide?
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
One more month down
February 1. I'm finally writing 2007 more than I'm writing 2006. Another month at Wally World.
I have a dream. Instead of schools teaching kids how to diagram sentences or the electron structure of boron, both of which I learned and never, ever had to use again (outside of teaching my high-schooler the same information he will never use), schools need to start teaching consumer survival. There is no final exam -- you have to either learn the lessons now or learn them the hard way in life.
Week 1: If you can't afford it, don't buy it. Credit cards aren't free money. If the card is declined because you didn't pay your bill, you didn't learn the rest of this lesson -- don't take it out on store personnel. And please don't ask to apply for a Wal-Mart credit card at the register at that point.
Weeks 2-3: If you are on food stamps, you are failing consumer survival. In this country, responsible citizens work, pay our bills, eat and repeat the process. It's your civic and moral responsibility to try to get off welfare. If you are getting government subsidies, don't waste them. Class debate: I suggest that states go back to coupon booklets and kill the cute credit cards. People should be somewhat embarrassed to use welfare. And they should only pay for staple food, like WIC checks do. Soda, candy, chips and snack cakes are garbage foods that schools have now banned -- why should our government allow poverty-stricken families to buy that for their kids? Meat, vegetables, fruit, milk, bread, tortillas, flour, cheese, juice and the like are the foods these kids need. And every adult who is getting welfare should be taken into a grocery store for Shopping 101. You can price match. You can buy good values. You can buy cheaper cuts than ribeyes and buy larger quantities of other meats, if you are in survival mode. If you can afford ribeyes, you don't need welfare.
Week 4: Job interview skills. What to wear and what not to wear. What to say and what not to say. How to take out nose rings and various piercings. How to fit in socially in Middle America. Basically, there's your time and company time, and only one of those is giving you a paycheck.
Week 5: Individual survival. You can live without a boyfriend, girlfriend, spouse, parents, babies. Life happens. Great lesson for the siamese-twin high-school couples, and one to file away for later, when people leave and spouses die. At some point in your life, maybe lots of your life, you will be alone. Deal with it.
Week 6: Look for the bargains. It's worth it. There is no crime in shopping on clearance racks, bargain stores, thrift stores. Take care of what you buy. And use it until you've used it up. I walk by the $3-5 per pair underwear racks every day. My 88 cent cheapies are fine -- and they do come in black. My husband thinks I'm sexy because of how I act and feel, not because I'm wearing $5 per pair thongs. It's perfectly OK to buy day-old bread, sale items and generic brands.
Week 7: Remember Lesson 6? Now that you having savings, you don't have to panic when the water heater breaks, when your kid has to go to the doctor, or when you and your husband want a weekend away. You have savings and you don't have to scream at Wal-Mart associates when layaway is gone and you don't know how you're going to pay for Christmas.
Week 8: Almost there now. Lots of forms. Tax forms, checkbook registers, loans, insurance... Yes, you can follow directions, meet deadlines and take care of yourself and your family.
Week 9: Review for mid-semester exam. Written essay on the meaning of the term "work ethic."
Weeks 10-18: Field trips, guest speakers and simulations on consumer responsible living.
How can parents turn loose kids into this world who don't have a clue what they will face? Maybe parents should have a final exam before they can conceive!
I have a dream. Instead of schools teaching kids how to diagram sentences or the electron structure of boron, both of which I learned and never, ever had to use again (outside of teaching my high-schooler the same information he will never use), schools need to start teaching consumer survival. There is no final exam -- you have to either learn the lessons now or learn them the hard way in life.
Week 1: If you can't afford it, don't buy it. Credit cards aren't free money. If the card is declined because you didn't pay your bill, you didn't learn the rest of this lesson -- don't take it out on store personnel. And please don't ask to apply for a Wal-Mart credit card at the register at that point.
Weeks 2-3: If you are on food stamps, you are failing consumer survival. In this country, responsible citizens work, pay our bills, eat and repeat the process. It's your civic and moral responsibility to try to get off welfare. If you are getting government subsidies, don't waste them. Class debate: I suggest that states go back to coupon booklets and kill the cute credit cards. People should be somewhat embarrassed to use welfare. And they should only pay for staple food, like WIC checks do. Soda, candy, chips and snack cakes are garbage foods that schools have now banned -- why should our government allow poverty-stricken families to buy that for their kids? Meat, vegetables, fruit, milk, bread, tortillas, flour, cheese, juice and the like are the foods these kids need. And every adult who is getting welfare should be taken into a grocery store for Shopping 101. You can price match. You can buy good values. You can buy cheaper cuts than ribeyes and buy larger quantities of other meats, if you are in survival mode. If you can afford ribeyes, you don't need welfare.
Week 4: Job interview skills. What to wear and what not to wear. What to say and what not to say. How to take out nose rings and various piercings. How to fit in socially in Middle America. Basically, there's your time and company time, and only one of those is giving you a paycheck.
Week 5: Individual survival. You can live without a boyfriend, girlfriend, spouse, parents, babies. Life happens. Great lesson for the siamese-twin high-school couples, and one to file away for later, when people leave and spouses die. At some point in your life, maybe lots of your life, you will be alone. Deal with it.
Week 6: Look for the bargains. It's worth it. There is no crime in shopping on clearance racks, bargain stores, thrift stores. Take care of what you buy. And use it until you've used it up. I walk by the $3-5 per pair underwear racks every day. My 88 cent cheapies are fine -- and they do come in black. My husband thinks I'm sexy because of how I act and feel, not because I'm wearing $5 per pair thongs. It's perfectly OK to buy day-old bread, sale items and generic brands.
Week 7: Remember Lesson 6? Now that you having savings, you don't have to panic when the water heater breaks, when your kid has to go to the doctor, or when you and your husband want a weekend away. You have savings and you don't have to scream at Wal-Mart associates when layaway is gone and you don't know how you're going to pay for Christmas.
Week 8: Almost there now. Lots of forms. Tax forms, checkbook registers, loans, insurance... Yes, you can follow directions, meet deadlines and take care of yourself and your family.
Week 9: Review for mid-semester exam. Written essay on the meaning of the term "work ethic."
Weeks 10-18: Field trips, guest speakers and simulations on consumer responsible living.
How can parents turn loose kids into this world who don't have a clue what they will face? Maybe parents should have a final exam before they can conceive!
Monday, January 22, 2007
You can shop here -- but there's no free lunch
It would be easier just to tell customers "Shop here, eat later." Because anything involving eating or drinking in a Wal-Mart store creates some kind of problems.
Consider soda, juice, tea, Sobes, Starbucks and assorted energy drinks in the coolers. Accessible. No one is going to tackle you the second you take one from a cooler and drag you by the ear to the nearest checkout. Honestly, I wish they would.
The soda isn't a perk for shopping here. Drink it in the store, you still have to pay for it. Spill it in the store, someone still has to clean it up. Some of our customers apparently don't get this.
Look around the store today. You can probably find a soda bottle or two that someone opened and drank, then discarded. $1.28 bottle of soda, no charge. And because there aren't enough eyes to see whether every customer pays for everything, some of them are going to walk. Most of them, actually.
What it comes down to is a lack of personal responsibility. Don't drink it if you don't intend to pay for it. Don't let your children touch, use or break what you don't expect to pay for. Please don't let your children teethe on packages, then give them to me, saying you don't want to purchase them. YUCCCHHHH! Don't have kids if discipline is a dirty word.
If I ever see this one customer coming, I'm shutting off my light or having a CSM check her out. Twice now, she's been in my line, and twice, I've wondered if I ever want to work here again. Two little brats that obviously have never seen any discipline.
1st time -- as I'm checking mom's groceries out, she's talking on the phone. Mini-mommy and her little sister are playing with everything on the shelves. They find antibacterial hand cleaner, the alcohol-based stuff. Bingo! Both sisters are covered from fingers to elbows in the stuff. It's dripping on the shelving.
"Hey, girls, that's not for trying if you're not going to buy it," I say. Mommy, still on the phone, pulls them toward the cart, giving me a dirty look and making no effort to pick up the container to buy it. A few minutes later, the girls are right back at the stuff. The older one gives me a "Nyyahh" face. I check their groceries as fast as I can.
Maybe two weeks later, they're in line again. Little one playing with stuff on the shelf, older one now trying to annoy me. Tries to spin the six-bagging-station carousel. I hold it. She backs off, I go back to bagging, she spins it again.
"Don't spin it until I'm finished filling the bag," I say. Matter-of-fact, not angrily. Enough to encourage Mom to restrain her child.
Apparently, she didn't read my comment as her cue. "Don't be rude to my child," says the enraged lioness.
"I wasn't rude to your child. I asked her not to spin the carousel. I don't want to get injured while my hand is in the bag."
"You were rude. 'Please' goes a long way."
Lots of "pleases" go through my head right then. "Please don't come in my line." "Please tie up your children." "Please learn how to parent." And especially, "please, kid, don't make that mocking smile when your mommy's stupid, because some day, mommy won't be there."
I go back to holding the carousel whenever she tries to spin it. If it takes twice as long to check out her groceries, I don't care. Maybe she won't be back -- in my line, or to this store. I can only hope.
Same with the 60-something couple that needed a heat-rub for sore muscles. I was accosted by them going to my break, and I walk them to Ben-Gay area in Health & Beauty Aids. They start opening jars and tubes, smelling them. Then the lady tries some on her arm. Hey -- every product in our store isn't a tester!
But I digress. I'm really sick of writing off stuff, like antibacterial hand cleaner, empty candy wrappers and soda bottles that people think we won't miss. We're a corporate giant. And you're just a sorry excuse for a human being that came with no morals attached. If you don't pay for it now, you'll pay for it in higher prices later.
Consider soda, juice, tea, Sobes, Starbucks and assorted energy drinks in the coolers. Accessible. No one is going to tackle you the second you take one from a cooler and drag you by the ear to the nearest checkout. Honestly, I wish they would.
The soda isn't a perk for shopping here. Drink it in the store, you still have to pay for it. Spill it in the store, someone still has to clean it up. Some of our customers apparently don't get this.
Look around the store today. You can probably find a soda bottle or two that someone opened and drank, then discarded. $1.28 bottle of soda, no charge. And because there aren't enough eyes to see whether every customer pays for everything, some of them are going to walk. Most of them, actually.
What it comes down to is a lack of personal responsibility. Don't drink it if you don't intend to pay for it. Don't let your children touch, use or break what you don't expect to pay for. Please don't let your children teethe on packages, then give them to me, saying you don't want to purchase them. YUCCCHHHH! Don't have kids if discipline is a dirty word.
If I ever see this one customer coming, I'm shutting off my light or having a CSM check her out. Twice now, she's been in my line, and twice, I've wondered if I ever want to work here again. Two little brats that obviously have never seen any discipline.
1st time -- as I'm checking mom's groceries out, she's talking on the phone. Mini-mommy and her little sister are playing with everything on the shelves. They find antibacterial hand cleaner, the alcohol-based stuff. Bingo! Both sisters are covered from fingers to elbows in the stuff. It's dripping on the shelving.
"Hey, girls, that's not for trying if you're not going to buy it," I say. Mommy, still on the phone, pulls them toward the cart, giving me a dirty look and making no effort to pick up the container to buy it. A few minutes later, the girls are right back at the stuff. The older one gives me a "Nyyahh" face. I check their groceries as fast as I can.
Maybe two weeks later, they're in line again. Little one playing with stuff on the shelf, older one now trying to annoy me. Tries to spin the six-bagging-station carousel. I hold it. She backs off, I go back to bagging, she spins it again.
"Don't spin it until I'm finished filling the bag," I say. Matter-of-fact, not angrily. Enough to encourage Mom to restrain her child.
Apparently, she didn't read my comment as her cue. "Don't be rude to my child," says the enraged lioness.
"I wasn't rude to your child. I asked her not to spin the carousel. I don't want to get injured while my hand is in the bag."
"You were rude. 'Please' goes a long way."
Lots of "pleases" go through my head right then. "Please don't come in my line." "Please tie up your children." "Please learn how to parent." And especially, "please, kid, don't make that mocking smile when your mommy's stupid, because some day, mommy won't be there."
I go back to holding the carousel whenever she tries to spin it. If it takes twice as long to check out her groceries, I don't care. Maybe she won't be back -- in my line, or to this store. I can only hope.
Same with the 60-something couple that needed a heat-rub for sore muscles. I was accosted by them going to my break, and I walk them to Ben-Gay area in Health & Beauty Aids. They start opening jars and tubes, smelling them. Then the lady tries some on her arm. Hey -- every product in our store isn't a tester!
But I digress. I'm really sick of writing off stuff, like antibacterial hand cleaner, empty candy wrappers and soda bottles that people think we won't miss. We're a corporate giant. And you're just a sorry excuse for a human being that came with no morals attached. If you don't pay for it now, you'll pay for it in higher prices later.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Gracias, de nada, burrito
When my son was in middle school, he took a semester of Spanish. Basic beginner stuff. Colors, numbers, simple phrases. One evening, he came home and explained what he'd been working on. "Gracias" means thank you, and the typical answer isn't you're welcome, but "de nada" (it was nothing). So the next time I said "Gracias," he said "de nada" in such a way that I thought I missed what I was supposed to say next. I looked at him and said "Burrito." "Gracias, de nada, burrito" has been an inside joke for years. But I admit, the rest of my Spanish is pretty nada.
Working in a Wal-Mart store in Arizona is like a Spanish language immersion program. Unless you consciously avoid doing so, you pick up a little of the language. Most of the time that's helpful. Forgive me in advance, there are no little squiggly things to put over n's to make them sound like y's.
Si, no, si y no -- Yes, no, yes and no.
Muy bueno -- Very good!
Huevos -- those are eggs. A helpful phrase to know when handing a customer a sack. I always prefer to scramble eggs for breakfast by my stove, not at register 9. I think that's a universal thought. Of course, huevos can have another meaning, but I don't think a cashier's going to refer to a guy's huevos as they hand over a grocery sack.
Bano -- The little boys and little girls rooms.
Ninos and Ninas -- male and female rugrats that often need the banos.
Dinero -- money.
Targeta -- card, like a gift card or credit card.
Uno, dos, tres... -- counting up to 15 is helpful, and thanks to Sesame Street, I actually could do this pre-Wal-Mart.
Hola, gracias, por favor, adios, buenos dias... -- social graces go a long way.
Abierto, cerrado -- open and closed.
Of course, many common items need no translation. Tortillas, jalapenos, chiles, we're good.
This is a shared thought among many cashiers. Sundays are fine. The store is crammed, but time passes quickly if you're on a regular register because of the two- and three-cart orders from the Hispanic families. Usually one adult will be filling the belt and the husband or an older son will be filling the carts. I don't have to stop, load six bags of groceries and go back to scanning.
OK, sometimes the language barrier does give us problems. One night I rang up about $125 of groceries for a Hispanic group. Two adult women and one adult man. They dug around frantically for money. The man, speaking the most English, said "We only have 19 dollars."
"Nineteen?" (OK, so why did you bring up $125 in groceries).
"Yes"
"Nineteen dollars?" I wanted to make sure before I took the next action.
"Yes. Sorry."
He starts handing stuff back to me to void from the order. I figured, don't bother. I'll just abort the transaction and start over. Once I do this, my station pages a customer service manager. As a cashier, I can't act like I'm ringing your groceries, hand you the slip and abort the transaction so you don't have to pay. I'm sure people have tried that, but not possible. Fortunately, coding various actions to the CSM's is simple, as they carry this Palm Pilot-like device.
"What did you need?" my CSM asks.
"The customer said they only have $19."
"Nineteen?" she asks.
"Yes." And this time, he hands her the bills, upside down, and I see a $20 bill. Something's definitely not right. And I feel very stupid.
"You don't speak very good English, sir, and you meant NINETY, right?" Really frustrated man nods.
She is able to clear my abort action and I take a dozen items off the order. They pay, and they're on their way. While our Spanish-speaking customers sometimes create issues, they pay with American currency. I wish some of them would attempt more of our language, now that they're here, as I try to make customer service happen in a language I don't speak.
Working in a Wal-Mart store in Arizona is like a Spanish language immersion program. Unless you consciously avoid doing so, you pick up a little of the language. Most of the time that's helpful. Forgive me in advance, there are no little squiggly things to put over n's to make them sound like y's.
Si, no, si y no -- Yes, no, yes and no.
Muy bueno -- Very good!
Huevos -- those are eggs. A helpful phrase to know when handing a customer a sack. I always prefer to scramble eggs for breakfast by my stove, not at register 9. I think that's a universal thought. Of course, huevos can have another meaning, but I don't think a cashier's going to refer to a guy's huevos as they hand over a grocery sack.
Bano -- The little boys and little girls rooms.
Ninos and Ninas -- male and female rugrats that often need the banos.
Dinero -- money.
Targeta -- card, like a gift card or credit card.
Uno, dos, tres... -- counting up to 15 is helpful, and thanks to Sesame Street, I actually could do this pre-Wal-Mart.
Hola, gracias, por favor, adios, buenos dias... -- social graces go a long way.
Abierto, cerrado -- open and closed.
Of course, many common items need no translation. Tortillas, jalapenos, chiles, we're good.
This is a shared thought among many cashiers. Sundays are fine. The store is crammed, but time passes quickly if you're on a regular register because of the two- and three-cart orders from the Hispanic families. Usually one adult will be filling the belt and the husband or an older son will be filling the carts. I don't have to stop, load six bags of groceries and go back to scanning.
OK, sometimes the language barrier does give us problems. One night I rang up about $125 of groceries for a Hispanic group. Two adult women and one adult man. They dug around frantically for money. The man, speaking the most English, said "We only have 19 dollars."
"Nineteen?" (OK, so why did you bring up $125 in groceries).
"Yes"
"Nineteen dollars?" I wanted to make sure before I took the next action.
"Yes. Sorry."
He starts handing stuff back to me to void from the order. I figured, don't bother. I'll just abort the transaction and start over. Once I do this, my station pages a customer service manager. As a cashier, I can't act like I'm ringing your groceries, hand you the slip and abort the transaction so you don't have to pay. I'm sure people have tried that, but not possible. Fortunately, coding various actions to the CSM's is simple, as they carry this Palm Pilot-like device.
"What did you need?" my CSM asks.
"The customer said they only have $19."
"Nineteen?" she asks.
"Yes." And this time, he hands her the bills, upside down, and I see a $20 bill. Something's definitely not right. And I feel very stupid.
"You don't speak very good English, sir, and you meant NINETY, right?" Really frustrated man nods.
She is able to clear my abort action and I take a dozen items off the order. They pay, and they're on their way. While our Spanish-speaking customers sometimes create issues, they pay with American currency. I wish some of them would attempt more of our language, now that they're here, as I try to make customer service happen in a language I don't speak.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
What shall we wear?
If you've read the trade publications, Wal-Mart is going through some changes. It's impossible to stay on top of the retail world if you never change. So we're changing schedules to make sure we maximize staff when people are in the store (WOW, absolute brilliance). People don't just shop from 8-5 Monday through Friday any more. We need more staff evenings and weekends.
Also, the traditional blue (or red, magenta, green and brown) smocks are being retired. You know, the ones covered with associates' Wal-Mart pin collections. I once asked if that's how you tell how long someone has worked for the store -- it's inversely proportionate to the amount of empty space not covered with pins on their smocks.
Anyway, instead of the back of a smock saying "How may I help you?" we're supposed to say it. Anyone with any kind of customer service background doesn't need a smock to say that. But now everyone is going to go blue and khaki. Or is that tan and royal? Or brown and navy? Basically, the dress code depends on who you talk to. It's not going into effect until Feb. 1. Or probably later. You ever try to change what 1.8 million employees are wearing overnight? There aren't enough khakis in every Wal-Mart in the world for that.
Apparently, the change follows a new Wal-Mart top executive hire from Target. My thought is: Take your ideas back to Target. We don't want to be Target. We're No. 1. Now you go into Target, it's a red polo and khaki pants. Pretty soon, you will go into Wal-Mart -- blue polos, khaki pants. How imaginative.
I thought the smocks were great. Slip it on, you're in dress code. Now, there's the decision of where to change before work. No, I'm not going to start wearing some shade of blue and some shade of brown to my other job all day. Changing in the Wal-Mart bathroom? Who are you kidding?
Actually, it won't be uniform. Apparently any kind of tan-khaki-brown pants/skirt and any kind of royal-blue-navy shirt. So you might have a cashier in a navy blue sweater and a khaki skirt next to a customer service manager in a royal blue polo and brown slacks, and they'll both be in dress code. Pity the poor customer who comes into the store in brown cargoes and a blue sweatshirt. "Excuse me, sir, can you show me where the cosmetic department is? Overnight, people may remove two colors from their wardrobes. I know I consciously won't walk into Target in a red shirt -- it makes ME the Target!
Currently, it's easy to point a guest to a customer service manager. "Go over there and talk to that lady in the bright red smock. She can get you change (an RV permit, an associate to help you carry that plasma TV you are returning in from your car...). Now, everyone, even management, will be identical -- sort of. I'm not sure that's such a good thing.
Plus, where will we display our pin collection?
Also, the traditional blue (or red, magenta, green and brown) smocks are being retired. You know, the ones covered with associates' Wal-Mart pin collections. I once asked if that's how you tell how long someone has worked for the store -- it's inversely proportionate to the amount of empty space not covered with pins on their smocks.
Anyway, instead of the back of a smock saying "How may I help you?" we're supposed to say it. Anyone with any kind of customer service background doesn't need a smock to say that. But now everyone is going to go blue and khaki. Or is that tan and royal? Or brown and navy? Basically, the dress code depends on who you talk to. It's not going into effect until Feb. 1. Or probably later. You ever try to change what 1.8 million employees are wearing overnight? There aren't enough khakis in every Wal-Mart in the world for that.
Apparently, the change follows a new Wal-Mart top executive hire from Target. My thought is: Take your ideas back to Target. We don't want to be Target. We're No. 1. Now you go into Target, it's a red polo and khaki pants. Pretty soon, you will go into Wal-Mart -- blue polos, khaki pants. How imaginative.
I thought the smocks were great. Slip it on, you're in dress code. Now, there's the decision of where to change before work. No, I'm not going to start wearing some shade of blue and some shade of brown to my other job all day. Changing in the Wal-Mart bathroom? Who are you kidding?
Actually, it won't be uniform. Apparently any kind of tan-khaki-brown pants/skirt and any kind of royal-blue-navy shirt. So you might have a cashier in a navy blue sweater and a khaki skirt next to a customer service manager in a royal blue polo and brown slacks, and they'll both be in dress code. Pity the poor customer who comes into the store in brown cargoes and a blue sweatshirt. "Excuse me, sir, can you show me where the cosmetic department is? Overnight, people may remove two colors from their wardrobes. I know I consciously won't walk into Target in a red shirt -- it makes ME the Target!
Currently, it's easy to point a guest to a customer service manager. "Go over there and talk to that lady in the bright red smock. She can get you change (an RV permit, an associate to help you carry that plasma TV you are returning in from your car...). Now, everyone, even management, will be identical -- sort of. I'm not sure that's such a good thing.
Plus, where will we display our pin collection?
I thought I was a cashier...
Sometimes it's not so busy at Wal-Mart...
Working a register at Wal-Mart when it's slow is an acting job. The act is knowing how to find something to do to look very busy. Reading a magazine is too obvious, as is chatting on a cell phone. Most of us have slipped in one or the other of these occasionally. Scrubbing shelves or reorganizing entire displays is real work. So what passes for meaningful work:
Working a register at Wal-Mart when it's slow is an acting job. The act is knowing how to find something to do to look very busy. Reading a magazine is too obvious, as is chatting on a cell phone. Most of us have slipped in one or the other of these occasionally. Scrubbing shelves or reorganizing entire displays is real work. So what passes for meaningful work:
- Cleaning the belt. Each register is supposed to be equipped with a roll of towel and a spray bottle filled with a blue mystery liquid. At first, I thought it was watered down Windex, but apparently, it's some cleaner, diluted to a recommended level and mixed by the vat. Nice to have on hand when the 10-pound chicken thighs burst open (ughh). But during down times, one can clean the belt that shoppers cover with toys their kids have drooled on, assorted overripe fruit, leaking raw meat containers, half-thawed ice cream and gooey detergent bottles. No wonder guests don't want to put their white clothing on it. After working here, I don't want to put anything on it that's not itself toxic.
- Facing and putbacks. Guests often come to the front of the store with more than they actually will pay for. Typically, they dump it in the aisles of checkout impulse merchandise. That isn't so bad, unless it's refrigerated or frozen merchandise. Please, folks, if you decide you don't want your ice cream, meat, yogurt or frozen vegetables, hand them to the cashier. We will make sure someone runs them back to the appropriate refrigerated or frozen area. Otherwise we have to claim it out, which results in higher costs for all of us. If it's not cold, cashiers stash it under the register until it's not busy, then take it to a go-back area -- customer service, return cart or even the correct shelf. Taking back empty carts and hand baskets means another trip and a couple more minutes. Finding an empty package of something someone ripped off stashed under the beef jerky -- another couple of minutes to go log it. And so on until more guests come to check out.
- Red Lining. A definite two-edged sword. Cashiers are taught to provide "aggressive customer service" by meeting guests at the "red line," an imaginary boundary in front of the register, separating the front end from the sales floor. At one time, Wal-Marts probably had red lines, but now it's akin to sending someone on a snipe hunt. Like the "blue stars" that are supposed to be on the self-check registers -- they've gone the way of 8-tracks and dinosaurs. Managers don't see it as aggressive customer service -- they see "bored cashier doing nothing." They leave instructions like "Send any red lining cashiers to go zone toys."
A side note, here. I think there are two employees in toys at our Wal-Mart, even during Christmas. Itinerant cashiers make up the rest of the staff. That's why, if you ever go into the toy department during Christmas, guests know more about the department than the staff -- if you're lucky enough to find staff. But associates -- toys or cashiers -- don't really get to zone toys, which means pick up all the out of place items (more are out of place than in place every night). They're more like Tickle Me Elmo TMX's or Wii's -- they aren't on the floor more than a minute when three guests are tugging them in three directions.
So if toy department or cashiers don't straighten toys, when does the straightening and stocking get done? Legend has it that overnight inventory control staff does it between 2 and 5 a.m.
So to avoid being punished for "aggressive customer service," we act busy where the customer service managers can't see us. Straighten soda coolers. Fill the grocery bags on the carousels. Help another cashier bag a large order. Clean the particles that multiply under the scale trays. It's far more work to act busy than to be busy when you have a line five-deep with guests.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
U-Scan? Do you really want to work here?
Call it "FAST LANE," "U-SCAN" or "SELF-CHECK," it's all the same to me. One of the worst duties a cashier can draw.
Look at it this way: Typically, 95% of the interactions a cashier has with a guest are positive. We scan, bag and sometimes stash their items back in the cart. We're friendly to them and we either entertain or ignore their children. We use the hand scanner to prevent them from lifting heavy items, or we lift them ourselves. We call for carryouts. We can type in quantities at one time, and even price match. We can add minutes to their phone cards, activate phone and gift cards, and allow them to pay their Wal-Mart credit card bills. It's a pleasant time.
Now, there's self-check. Flip the statistic. 95% of the time that a cashier has to get involved, it's not positive. The machines can't see if a guest is old enough to buy an R-rated movie or Super Glue. It doesn't know if security items are deactivated. It doesn't make produce purchases simple. It only has two small bagging stations, as compared to six on a typical cashier station. And some days, they are just really tired personal computers in disguise. So, for a cashier, it's "chase the red lights." Scan personal bar code, fix problem. Try not to infuriate too many customers in the process.
With all of the problems those machines can create, wouldn't thinking guests choose a regular checkout? Oops, I put the word "thinking" with guest.
Can self-check see a person's age. Nope. Cashier intervention with alcohol and any restricted material (certain auto chemicals, Super Glue, R-rated movies and mature video games, spray paint, etc.).
Can self-check do phone card or gift card or cell phone activations? Nope.
Can self-check handle a check for payment? Nope.
Can self-check handle WIC (the commodities program for women, infants and children?)? Nope.
Can self-check split payments between you and your roommates' debit cards. Nope.
See the pattern? Unless you have a few, very normal food or general merchandise items, and you want to pay with one form of payment -- cash, credit or debit card, please stand in a real line. If you screw it up, expect to stand there a while. We've begged management for signs (not to give the guests ala "Here's Your Sign") but signs that say "20 or less items, no phone cards, checks, gift cards, fabric, ..." But we still have the guests who think this is a good place to bring two carts of groceries.
"Last week, the cashier helped us through our whole order."
What I wanted to say: "Last week, it was probably 10:30 p.m. and the cashier was probably bored out of her/his mind. I have to watch four self-check stations, and I can't be your personal cashier. Go to a regular checkout."
What I really said: "I'm sorry, this is 'self-check.' I will help you if you have problem, but that's why it's called self-check."
30 seconds later, a red light. Customer has hit "Help Requested" button.
Sometimes it's one customer working in tandem with another customer. You distract cashier, I will rip something off. Other times, it's just stupidity. I can, and I will suspend transactions when a guest keeps asking for assistance. "Here. I'm going to take the bags you've filled and the rest of your purchases to register 5, and let (insert lucky cashier's name here) finish your order and give you personal assistance.
The worst ones are our own staff, who bypass the four self-check stations, walk to your assistance terminal and demand "ring me up." I'm sorry, I am watching four stations. Unless we're four deep and you're on your 15-minute break and you ask real nice, I'm not your personal servant. One cashier tried this on me -- I walked her items over to the nearest self-check station and proceeded to scan and bag them there. "Do you need any help with the payment?" I asked, and walked off to help someone else.
Look at it this way: Typically, 95% of the interactions a cashier has with a guest are positive. We scan, bag and sometimes stash their items back in the cart. We're friendly to them and we either entertain or ignore their children. We use the hand scanner to prevent them from lifting heavy items, or we lift them ourselves. We call for carryouts. We can type in quantities at one time, and even price match. We can add minutes to their phone cards, activate phone and gift cards, and allow them to pay their Wal-Mart credit card bills. It's a pleasant time.
Now, there's self-check. Flip the statistic. 95% of the time that a cashier has to get involved, it's not positive. The machines can't see if a guest is old enough to buy an R-rated movie or Super Glue. It doesn't know if security items are deactivated. It doesn't make produce purchases simple. It only has two small bagging stations, as compared to six on a typical cashier station. And some days, they are just really tired personal computers in disguise. So, for a cashier, it's "chase the red lights." Scan personal bar code, fix problem. Try not to infuriate too many customers in the process.
With all of the problems those machines can create, wouldn't thinking guests choose a regular checkout? Oops, I put the word "thinking" with guest.
Can self-check see a person's age. Nope. Cashier intervention with alcohol and any restricted material (certain auto chemicals, Super Glue, R-rated movies and mature video games, spray paint, etc.).
Can self-check do phone card or gift card or cell phone activations? Nope.
Can self-check handle a check for payment? Nope.
Can self-check handle WIC (the commodities program for women, infants and children?)? Nope.
Can self-check split payments between you and your roommates' debit cards. Nope.
See the pattern? Unless you have a few, very normal food or general merchandise items, and you want to pay with one form of payment -- cash, credit or debit card, please stand in a real line. If you screw it up, expect to stand there a while. We've begged management for signs (not to give the guests ala "Here's Your Sign") but signs that say "20 or less items, no phone cards, checks, gift cards, fabric, ..." But we still have the guests who think this is a good place to bring two carts of groceries.
"Last week, the cashier helped us through our whole order."
What I wanted to say: "Last week, it was probably 10:30 p.m. and the cashier was probably bored out of her/his mind. I have to watch four self-check stations, and I can't be your personal cashier. Go to a regular checkout."
What I really said: "I'm sorry, this is 'self-check.' I will help you if you have problem, but that's why it's called self-check."
30 seconds later, a red light. Customer has hit "Help Requested" button.
Sometimes it's one customer working in tandem with another customer. You distract cashier, I will rip something off. Other times, it's just stupidity. I can, and I will suspend transactions when a guest keeps asking for assistance. "Here. I'm going to take the bags you've filled and the rest of your purchases to register 5, and let (insert lucky cashier's name here) finish your order and give you personal assistance.
The worst ones are our own staff, who bypass the four self-check stations, walk to your assistance terminal and demand "ring me up." I'm sorry, I am watching four stations. Unless we're four deep and you're on your 15-minute break and you ask real nice, I'm not your personal servant. One cashier tried this on me -- I walked her items over to the nearest self-check station and proceeded to scan and bag them there. "Do you need any help with the payment?" I asked, and walked off to help someone else.
I don't care how much it costs -- where is the UPC?
Perhaps my teenage son doesn't realize this, but not too many years ago, cashiers actually had to type in prices and do math in their heads to make change. Every item had a price sticker on it and instead of scanning UPC's, cashiers typed in the prices. Department staff did price changes by removing these little labels (with label pullers or heat-emitting devices), not like today's managers, who can go into the computer and with a couple of keystrokes, discount an item or even an entire line (Christmas merchandise 75% off!).
That's what makes it so interesting when a guest brings an item to the checkout with no UPC. "Um, ma'am, there's no UPC on this"
"Huh?"
"There is no UPC -- you know, the bar code that we scan. Did you happen to notice what the price was?"
Here's the point that will determine how long this operation will take. Three options: FASTEST) The guest knows the price and it seems reasonable. SLOWER) The guest knows exactly where the item is and that we need one with a UPC attached. BETTER FIND ANOTHER CHECKOUT) The guest is clueless about the price or is trying to pull a fast one.
Take, for instance, the 1 liter bottle of refrigerated Evian water of which the guest already had slammed half. Eating or drinking food in the store, by the way, is not a crime. Leaving it in the store half-eaten is, however, a one-way trip to the booking station if you are caught. So is leaving the store without paying for it. However, this guest handed it to me to scan.
"It was in the back of the store in the cooler."
Her boyfriend piped up, "I could run and get another one."
While her boyfriend runs (a slow stroll, actually) for another one, the customer lets me know exactly how Wal-Mart retails. "They put coolers back there just so you are tired and thirsty when you've shopped that far through the store." Actually, ma'am, there are coolers all over the store, because people aren't so much thirsty as they are impulsive. And impulse merchandise is a huge part of what Wal-Mart and every other retailer sells.
I've finished checking all of the woman's merchandise when boyfriend comes back with another identical bottle of Evian. Identical to the missing bar code. Heavy sigh. "I know," boyfriend says. "None of them have bar codes on them. But the cooler said 'Evian water, $1.40'." That I can deal with. It's a price, a reasonable price, and I can department price it and move on.
Now, when a guest, or my customer service manager brings back a second one, usually with a UPC, it's hilarious when the guest suddenly wants the one with the UPC. The UPC meant nothing to them before, now it's critical. "If it's OK with you, can I have that one?" Sir, do you think I'm totally stupid? I'm going to give you this one and then put the one without a UPC back on the shelf so some other cashier can go through this dance again? Sorry. No.
Finally, there's the guest that actually tore off the UPC by design, in order to rip us off. "No UPC?" I'm sure it said it was $1.50. Sure. Notice how many Wal-Mart items end in zeroes. This No Boundaries top is new merchandise. Not a clearance item that's been in the store since last May. Or there was the customer who brought me clothing whose tags "just came off" when she was trying them on. But the cashier wins again. Most clothing sold in our store have UPC numbers printed on the clothing labels themselves. Type in numbers, and the actual item and price appear. Amazing how she didn't want most of that clothing at the real price.
That's what makes it so interesting when a guest brings an item to the checkout with no UPC. "Um, ma'am, there's no UPC on this"
"Huh?"
"There is no UPC -- you know, the bar code that we scan. Did you happen to notice what the price was?"
Here's the point that will determine how long this operation will take. Three options: FASTEST) The guest knows the price and it seems reasonable. SLOWER) The guest knows exactly where the item is and that we need one with a UPC attached. BETTER FIND ANOTHER CHECKOUT) The guest is clueless about the price or is trying to pull a fast one.
Take, for instance, the 1 liter bottle of refrigerated Evian water of which the guest already had slammed half. Eating or drinking food in the store, by the way, is not a crime. Leaving it in the store half-eaten is, however, a one-way trip to the booking station if you are caught. So is leaving the store without paying for it. However, this guest handed it to me to scan.
"It was in the back of the store in the cooler."
Her boyfriend piped up, "I could run and get another one."
While her boyfriend runs (a slow stroll, actually) for another one, the customer lets me know exactly how Wal-Mart retails. "They put coolers back there just so you are tired and thirsty when you've shopped that far through the store." Actually, ma'am, there are coolers all over the store, because people aren't so much thirsty as they are impulsive. And impulse merchandise is a huge part of what Wal-Mart and every other retailer sells.
I've finished checking all of the woman's merchandise when boyfriend comes back with another identical bottle of Evian. Identical to the missing bar code. Heavy sigh. "I know," boyfriend says. "None of them have bar codes on them. But the cooler said 'Evian water, $1.40'." That I can deal with. It's a price, a reasonable price, and I can department price it and move on.
Now, when a guest, or my customer service manager brings back a second one, usually with a UPC, it's hilarious when the guest suddenly wants the one with the UPC. The UPC meant nothing to them before, now it's critical. "If it's OK with you, can I have that one?" Sir, do you think I'm totally stupid? I'm going to give you this one and then put the one without a UPC back on the shelf so some other cashier can go through this dance again? Sorry. No.
Finally, there's the guest that actually tore off the UPC by design, in order to rip us off. "No UPC?" I'm sure it said it was $1.50. Sure. Notice how many Wal-Mart items end in zeroes. This No Boundaries top is new merchandise. Not a clearance item that's been in the store since last May. Or there was the customer who brought me clothing whose tags "just came off" when she was trying them on. But the cashier wins again. Most clothing sold in our store have UPC numbers printed on the clothing labels themselves. Type in numbers, and the actual item and price appear. Amazing how she didn't want most of that clothing at the real price.
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