Look at Your Hand
You would be right to say it doesn't take a rocket scientist to work retail, but there are little things to know. How to properly bag food. How to count back change. How to talk with a customer while still ringing them up. For some people these things are surprisingly difficult. In San Francisco, when giving a customer change it seems to be popular to hand them the dollar bills, then the receipt with the coins on top. As if the receipt is a little tray. I hate this passionately.
Today while shopping an older woman was the cashier, and she very politely called me out when I made a face as she did it. I apologized, and she then apologized back, saying she doesn't know why she does it, but she hates when others do it to her. Then she said, I just figure when they do that to me it's because they don't want to touch my skin.
Oh. My. God. Is this not 2009 in San Francisco? I want to meet the assholes who would make this sweet old black lady think they wouldn't want to touch her skin so I can beat them up. And yet.
Yet I remember how I used to meet my grandpa every Tuesday at Wendy's for him to take me to lunch. That time when I was standing next to him at the counter as he paid the black, teenage cashier. I watched as he held his hand out to give her coins, and dropped them towards her hand. Make whatever excuse you want - believe me, I want to make them - but I am sure he meant to avoid touching her hand.
I am not even sure he realized he was doing it - it may have been instinct for him. This is a man who for decades, worked as a teacher in New York City, with children of all races. But I realized, and my jaw dropped. The cashier noticed, and she looked at me to see if I did also. There were people behind us - it was the lunch rush in a fast food restaurant. The cashier seemed embarrassed, when really it was my grandpa who should have felt that emotion.
I mouthed I'm so sorry to the cashier, and she nodded to me. I refuse to excuse my grandpa's actions, no matter that he's dead, no matter how much I loved him. I spent years working on him - getting him to refer to adult women as women rather than "the girl", and even with all that effort he still sometimes forgot.
Not really sure where I'm going with this. Not sure what makes me feel more sad today - that some random black lady thought people might not want to touch her skin. Or the fact that I know she's right.
Today while shopping an older woman was the cashier, and she very politely called me out when I made a face as she did it. I apologized, and she then apologized back, saying she doesn't know why she does it, but she hates when others do it to her. Then she said, I just figure when they do that to me it's because they don't want to touch my skin.
Oh. My. God. Is this not 2009 in San Francisco? I want to meet the assholes who would make this sweet old black lady think they wouldn't want to touch her skin so I can beat them up. And yet.
Yet I remember how I used to meet my grandpa every Tuesday at Wendy's for him to take me to lunch. That time when I was standing next to him at the counter as he paid the black, teenage cashier. I watched as he held his hand out to give her coins, and dropped them towards her hand. Make whatever excuse you want - believe me, I want to make them - but I am sure he meant to avoid touching her hand.
I am not even sure he realized he was doing it - it may have been instinct for him. This is a man who for decades, worked as a teacher in New York City, with children of all races. But I realized, and my jaw dropped. The cashier noticed, and she looked at me to see if I did also. There were people behind us - it was the lunch rush in a fast food restaurant. The cashier seemed embarrassed, when really it was my grandpa who should have felt that emotion.
I mouthed I'm so sorry to the cashier, and she nodded to me. I refuse to excuse my grandpa's actions, no matter that he's dead, no matter how much I loved him. I spent years working on him - getting him to refer to adult women as women rather than "the girl", and even with all that effort he still sometimes forgot.
Not really sure where I'm going with this. Not sure what makes me feel more sad today - that some random black lady thought people might not want to touch her skin. Or the fact that I know she's right.
Labels: Harshing Your Mellow, How RUDE, People watching, Shopping
posted by Green at 12/18/2009 07:18:00 PM
2 Comments:
I work as a cashier and frankly I do it differently every time, none of them exactly planned out to details. Most of the time I think I give the change first, then the receipt, because otherwise the receipt tends to fly out of their hand right before I put the change on top and it gets very confusing. So heavy things first (coins) and light things last (bills, receipt).
But really, most of the time I would guess cashiers don't think that hard about how to give out change. There are more important things we worry about, like giving out the correct change (god forbid you come out short at the end of the day), about demagnetizing items and taking off all ink tags (security people get pissed if the alarms go off for no good reason),or fulfilling the daily quotas for things like credit card applications and other things.
I greet the customer, ring up their things, take/give money, and say thanks at the end. That's it. How to properly give out change to everyone as to not offend them isn't high up in my list of concerns.
I guess what I'm saying is that these things aren't always meaningful or intentional.
Glad you posted your comment CC - every retail place I've ever worked has been very specific about exactly how to do everything. Your comment is a good reminder to me that not every place is that rigid.
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