Actually, I could be lying. Not intentionally, though. My shift ended at 5:30 pm but, I sat in the before-COVID breakroom and decompressed for longer than I realized. Then I bought my gallon of purified water and went out to my car where I poked around on my phone. I finally drove away from the store just before 6 pm.
I worked an express register today. Oh the joy. Around 3 pm I had two customers lose their shit over a couple I rang up who had 14 items. A) when I brought them over to my register it was during a lull. B) we are allowed to ring orders up to 15 items on express C) the couple was splitting the payment: $40.41 in cash, out of $100 bill. The final $40 was put on a card. I had to run the bill through one of our little laser readers that detect fakes. The two I had were failing every bill I checked all day. There is no way four bills were bad. Each of them felt real and had the physical attributes of real bills. So, I had to walk to the next register to use one that read it correctly. Luckily, I’m old school and know how to count change up from the total to the amount tendered because for the computer to perform the correct math I had to key in $40.41 in cash but, the register does not ask out of how much cash. The registers at Walmart and Publix were the same. For example, $40.41= four pennies makes 45, one nickel makes 50, two quarters makes $41, four singles makes $45, one five makes $50 and $50 bill makes $100. No one is taught this anymore. It’s a good skill to have when you mess up and key in the incorrect tender amount. I rarely fail to do it correctly. So, that couple was kind of high maintenance and during my time dealing with them more customers fell from the ceiling and a lady got testy. I was kind of stunned because the customers there tend to be very polite. I guess we got a boatload that need to switch to decaf and stay away from sugar. Those people are everywhere. I just inwardly roll my eyes.
That was the only rough patch , though, and it was short lived. Thank God.
My day began on an interesting note. One of our head cashiers was parking an electric cart, which are plugged in right behind the express registers. She miscalculated and crashed into a display of bath supplies, including plastic bottles of Dr. Bronner’s peppermint scented castile soap. She busted three. Liquid soap oozed everywhere. I didn’t mind. I love the smell of peppermint. I actually love that particular soap. But, it’s $17 for the 32 ounce bottle. It’s out of my budget right now. When I waited tables back at Skipper’s in Tampa I used to buy it all the time at Nature’s Harvest for $10. That was in the 90’s.
I rang up two hot docs from the AdventHeath around the corner. The first guy was a sweetie pie in scrubs. He was a surgeon of some flavor. I didn’t pay attention. He had distracting blue eyes. Doctors in scrubs are hot. Like some women get turned on by men in uniforms, gimmie the dudes in scrubs. He was Israeli. I’m glad he told me where he was from. I’m good with accents and I couldn’t nail his. I love freaking out the people from South Africa when I correctly guess the origin of their speech.
The second doc was kinda short and I thought he was hot. Hmm, I’m expanding my tastes. He was an ER doctor and had his name embroidered on his scrubs shirt. It was Moskowitz. I asked, “Do you have a brother who’s a dermatologist?” He said, “Sorry, no.” My dermatologist has the same last name.
I also found out that Sprouts is about to pay out the quarterly bonus. My store manager was telling the head cashier, my former co-worker and buddy from Walmart who helped me get hired. They were standing next to me when Pat, the manager, said, “Pam won’t get one this time but, she will next time.” It actually made me feel good that he said that. He told us that you become eligible after seven weeks of employment. I think that makes me two weeks shy of eligibility. Dern.
Later my orthopedic surgeon’s mini me was in the store. It was kind of unsettling but, Mini Me was a lot younger. One of the head cashiers rang him up.
My drive home was marred by hideous traffic on Semoran Blvd and a horrible sound that blared from my car’s speakers. I was about halfway home when this pretty piano intro announced the next song then this noise that sounded like a dog’s dying squeaky toy on life support totally ruined the mood. Can’t Guns & Roses divorce Axl? Please tell me that will happen. Whoever gave them a recording contract with Axl as the lead singer needs to be tied, tossed onto a Japanese freighter and thrown into the middle of the Pacific Ocean. And far away from that migrating plastic island. I don’t won’t that guy finding anything to hold onto. Unless it’s very heavy. And does not float.
It’s almost 9 pm and, “FBI,” is coming on. I love that show. I’d be a good agent except that involves guns and occasional goo. No dead bodies for me.