Remember when the elderly lady got mugged and beaten up upon returning to the store to pick up the cash I'd forgotten to give her? Well, "CORPORATE" has made my life a living hell ever since then. It's not the store level, it's the people at the home office.
Everybody makes mistakes, but I have been written up, put on isolation, strict observation and every other bad thing this store has to offer. I finally had had enough and told Delores that I'm just not made to be a cashier.
D: "What do you mean?"
Me: "What do you mean what do I mean?"
D: "Are you sure?" She asked me that about 20 times.
Me: "Positive."
The truth was, I wasn't positive. I am fully aware of how scary it is out there, but quite honestly, the pay I was bringing home was slightly more than $100.00 a week. It used to be more, but I recently qualified for health insurance and that took a big chunk.
I wrote the following the day after it happened. I'm glad I did because when I sit here second guessing my decision, this reinforces me that I did the right thing.
DEGRADED:
I have felt degraded many many times over the past couple years.
Or so I thought.
I have felt humiliated, stupid, sad, disappointed, pissed off, extremely pissed off, idiotic, pathetic, scared, inept, mad for feeling inept…the list could go on forever if I had the energy to dig out my thesaurus.
But I never experienced the feeling of truly degraded until yesterday.
I have had a nasty cold for going on two weeks. Day before yesterday, I purposely did not take my high blood pressure medication because I bought a bottle of Nyquil. The plan was to knock myself out and to wake up feeling better.
Woke up yesterday and got ready for work. I didn’t take a swig of Nyquil, but it was still heavily in my system. I had last hit the bottle at around 3:00 a.m. Not thinking, I took a BP pill and went to work. About an hour into cashiering, I began to feel very very out of it. I was going through the motions, but wasn’t able to comprehend what I was actually doing. It was almost as if I was watching myself from afar. I am slightly familiar with the feeling of intoxication, but this was nothing like that. It was scary.
I told Delores about it and she blew me off.
It was only a six hour shift for me and all I had to do was not make a mistake. I wasn’t chatty with the customers. I didn’t smile. All I had to do was make correct change. Please God, don’t let me make a mistake. I was recently on “strict observation” for 30 days. Yeah, I’d been taken off, but we all knew I was still on thin ice.
A lady and her teenage son came through my line. I tried not to listen to their conversation, but I couldn’t help it. The boy was trying to convince her that he could prove himself responsible. She was icy. He must have really screwed up. I reeled myself back in and focused on my job. Then I told her the amount of the bill. $100 and something. She paid with what she had on her food stamps card. The rest was paid by debit. I messed up by hitting the “cash” rather than “EFT” (electronic funds transfer, for those of you fortunate enough to not have actually run a register). I knew what I’d done and asked the lady to hold on a second. Went to the only customer service rep available, who happens to be the least friendly and least helpful. Said there’s nothing we can do. I asked about voiding the whole thing. She took it to the nicest, yet laziest manager. Nothing we can do. So I knew my drawer was going to be $65.56 short. Not good.
Within a half an hour, Delores needed to see me. There is a room at the front of the store slightly bigger than a closet. Big window. We went in there and she asked me to explain. I was still buzzed beyond belief and wondered if this was a dream. Here I am, in my Harris Teeter uniform with my shirt tucked in, fat exposed, sick as a dog and higher than a kite, trying to explain that I merely hit the wrong button. Bottom line – my drawer is short.
Then came the definition of degraded. I started crying. Snot bubbles were flying out of my nose. I asked her to just fire me. She doesn’t want to fire me, but must write me up.
Did I mention this job pays $8.00 an hour?
I was in the front of the store, shirt tucked in, crying with snot bubbles over a job that pays eight bucks an hour?
I was a mess when I got home and woke up upset this morning. Not crying upset. Upset that I have allowed this crap ass job get to me. I’ve sent out resumes all day. Something’s gotta give.
I'm glad I have this to remember that awful feeling. Sadly, the truth is, I quit before they fired me. It would have just been a matter of time. The more trouble I was is in, the more nervous I became, and subsequently, the more mistakes I made.
So I am back at Square One. If I do have to take another cashiering job before something real comes along, at least I won't have the liability stigma (translated = do what you need to do to run this woman out of there) attached to me. AND, chances are I will not ever be a shirt tucker against my will again. I've been paying attention - most places don't have a tuck in policy.
BTW, if anyone who reads this thinks that I think I'm above being a cashier, I totally do NOT. I actually liked the job. Just hated the pay and the way I was singled out for every single thing. IE: "Kim, you need to get people through the line in less than a minute." Or, "Kim. You're supposed to use the scanner on the dog food." This was a good one, "Kim. You're too nice to the couponers." My favorite, "What was this void from three weeks ago for?"
I have recieved feedback from friends and family over my quitting. Positive and negative. I feel both sides, trust me. But the overall feeling is more positive than negative.
And, as fate would have it, I have had something for sale on Ebay for months. IT SOLD THE NIGHT I QUIT!!!! Talk about divine intervention!!!!! The proceeds will carry me for a long time.
My current focus is obviously set on finding another job. But I also want to be very diligent in doing the treadmill and eating right. I also want to aggressively pursue my passion for writing. Have been spending lots of time applying for jobs online, as well as sending out queries. If nothing else, this job did provide a lot of fodder. I am a firm believer of everything happening for a reason.
As far as me shopping at HT? Totally cool with it. Although Delores probably had to scramble to rearrange the schedule, she made me promise not to be a stranger. Told her I still want to shop there (great sales). Her words, "Giiirllllll. You better or Ima hunt you down."
We almost hugged it out, but not quite.
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