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Antiwork

“HELLOO-O-O, DOES ANYBODY WORK HERE?”

I work at one of those discount retail stores that are popping up everywhere. We have two employees per shift to run a ~9,000 square foot store (for you metric folks, that's approximately 6 flattened viking longships). Two people, assuming nobody calls out sick with a hernia or some other lazy excuse. We have one self checkout and one manned register. When it's slow, the cashier has to walk away to get stuff done. There's a bell customers can ring if they need help, but we can spot the folks who won't be able to use self checkout and we're usually up there before they can ring that damned bell and get a Pavlovian stress response out of us. There's a certain type of man, usually in their late 40s, often sporting a hat of a certain color, who expect slavish subservience from what they see as their subhuman retail…


I work at one of those discount retail stores that are popping up everywhere. We have two employees per shift to run a ~9,000 square foot store (for you metric folks, that's approximately 6 flattened viking longships). Two people, assuming nobody calls out sick with a hernia or some other lazy excuse.

We have one self checkout and one manned register. When it's slow, the cashier has to walk away to get stuff done. There's a bell customers can ring if they need help, but we can spot the folks who won't be able to use self checkout and we're usually up there before they can ring that damned bell and get a Pavlovian stress response out of us.

There's a certain type of man, usually in their late 40s, often sporting a hat of a certain color, who expect slavish subservience from what they see as their subhuman retail service animals. We have one here now.

He's buying a snickers bar and a 2-liter of pepsi and he's walking past the aisle in which I am knee deep in cardboard, past the inviting self checkout and right up to the main counter to announce he's ready for me to help him. He signals this by playing me a song: A shrill cacophony of frantic, hover-tapped bell-ringing. This marks the opening of a 2-second window in which I must master teleportation and get to him before the shouting begins:
“HELLOO-O-O, DOES ANYBODY WORK HERE?”

A naive, newer employee, untraumatized by years of experience, might apologize for the delay, or even (bravely) ask whether there was trouble with the self checkout. Rookie mistake. By doing this, they've squandered an opportunity to become the sympathetic villain in a Facebook rant.

You would be surprised how skillfully I can fail to find the barcode on a snickers bar. When I do find it, it can take me even longer to successfully scan it, and then of course there's a non-zero chance I will lose the barcode again in the process. I can huff in frustration, make self-deprecating jokes, and muse about the inherently sadistic nature of those who designed the wrapper.

When I give up on the built-in counter scanner, I will change strategy and attempt to use the handheld scanner. While fumbling with this tool and still failing to scan the snickers bar, I can, however – somehow – accidentally scan a tobacco product on the shelf behind me.

Removing a tobacco item from a transaction is a WHOLE process, sir, this will count against me – you sure you don't want to start smoking heheheh no I know, I joke, I make a silly joke. Just gimme oooone sec… oops. Wait, no, hang on, I got this… okay. I think we're good? You're gonna wanna keep your receipt, but I'm pretty sure it's fine.

Did I ask if you wanted a bag? I hate how they stick together like this, and it always rips if I'm not careful, hang on – I got this. I really miss the – wait, there it goes. Got it! What? Oh, no bag, yeah, I guess you only got the two things. I already got it unstuck and separated now, though… you sure you don't want it bagged? I really don't mind!

Aw man, the snickers just scanned itself somehow. Now it's on there twice. Wanna just grab a second one? You sure? No, yeah, sorry, hang on, I got this.

Whoops! Admit it, that would've been hilarious had it been a butterfingers. Do you remember where you found it? Let's get you another one, you probably don't want this one now. Unless…? No, of course not, who wants a stepped on candy bar, heee-ee, sorry man, it's late, they don't usually want me ringing people up but we're real short staffed…

Uh oh! I had no intention of rage-baiting you when I said “short staffed,” but suddenly your eyes look different. Yessir, nobody wants to work anymore. We're hiring, if you're interested. No? No, of course, I get it. Hillary's fault? I suppose it must be. Yessir, you can use a food card here.

As this is happening, I consider it a bonus if the guy sees other customers breezing themselves through self checkout and getting on with their day. I remember to apologize profusely for the time it took – I did the best I could. Us retail folks just ain't that bright, I guess.

Next time he comes in, odds are good I won't hear that bell. Pavlov's dog won't salivate.

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