Assault and battery with a carton of cigarettes
So, now that I've talked to you about my first day, I'll tell you another story that is sort of in the same vein. I hadn't learned not to put the pack of cigarettes down on the counter until after the customer had paid, but after this little incident I finally got the message.
The man was pleasant enough at first, just asked for a box of Newports. I turned around, picked up the pack from the shelf, turned back and saw that he was still leafing through his wallet. So, after I scanned it, I casually placed the box on the counter while he got the rest of his cash.
Apparently I hit his berzerk button. He stopped what he was doing, immediately grabbed the box and winged it at my head! I had a dumbfounded look on my face, and he said, "HAND it to me, like a gentleman."
I try to be as courteous as possible to my customers. When their hands are free, I would hand them their bags, but if they are preoccupied by something like fishing for their card or talking on their cellphone, I'll simply rest the bagged items on the counter until they are finished. I never had a problem with this and it never occurred to me that someone who was oversensitive would take offense to it.
Being the easy going young clerk I was, I simply obliged, handed him his cigarettes, he paid in cash, and I very carefully handed him his change.
Small Pockets are Serious Business
This was an old man. I've had two encounters with him. He was the type of old man who, on the outside, looked like you'd love to be his grandson. He just looked like that quintessential cute old man who is enjoying his retirement as best he could, is in relatively good health, and has a kind personality.
After I scanned his purchases and gave him his total, he went for his pockets, and became a little agitated. "Ooooh, they make these pockets so small."
I smiled. Simply because part of me could relate, I once had a pair of jeans that shrunk and made getting anything out of my pockets an irritating task. He looked at the smile on my face and he became even more agitated. "You think that's funny?!! I sure don't."
My smile immediately left my face and I told him I was sorry, and I didn't mean to offend him. He just gave me a scowl and finally gave me his cash.
OCD on bills
The second encounter seemed somewhat related to the first. I rang up his total, and this time he had better luck with his pockets. I proceeded to give him his $1.40 in change.
Old Man: "No, no. That won't do."
Me: "I'm sorry, did I count your change wrong?"
Old Man: "No. This dollar bill is crumply. Haven't you got a crisper bill? This just won't fit in my pockets."
It was at that point I really recognized him.
Me: "Well, This next bill isn't as crumply, will that do?"
As I hold out the bill he gets out his glasses and inspects it carefully.
Old Man: "That's all you have?"
I'm losing my patience at this point.
Me: "How about I give you 4 quarters instead?"
Old Man: "Well, fine. I need quarters for the parking meters anyway."
I quickly exchange him the bill for the quarters and left him on his way. While it was a little annoying, the look on his face in both of these encounters just looked so hopeless and pathetic, I really felt more pity for him than true agitation. He was just a little old man who just complained a lot.
So, now that I've talked to you about my first day, I'll tell you another story that is sort of in the same vein. I hadn't learned not to put the pack of cigarettes down on the counter until after the customer had paid, but after this little incident I finally got the message.
The man was pleasant enough at first, just asked for a box of Newports. I turned around, picked up the pack from the shelf, turned back and saw that he was still leafing through his wallet. So, after I scanned it, I casually placed the box on the counter while he got the rest of his cash.
Apparently I hit his berzerk button. He stopped what he was doing, immediately grabbed the box and winged it at my head! I had a dumbfounded look on my face, and he said, "HAND it to me, like a gentleman."
I try to be as courteous as possible to my customers. When their hands are free, I would hand them their bags, but if they are preoccupied by something like fishing for their card or talking on their cellphone, I'll simply rest the bagged items on the counter until they are finished. I never had a problem with this and it never occurred to me that someone who was oversensitive would take offense to it.
Being the easy going young clerk I was, I simply obliged, handed him his cigarettes, he paid in cash, and I very carefully handed him his change.
Small Pockets are Serious Business
This was an old man. I've had two encounters with him. He was the type of old man who, on the outside, looked like you'd love to be his grandson. He just looked like that quintessential cute old man who is enjoying his retirement as best he could, is in relatively good health, and has a kind personality.
After I scanned his purchases and gave him his total, he went for his pockets, and became a little agitated. "Ooooh, they make these pockets so small."
I smiled. Simply because part of me could relate, I once had a pair of jeans that shrunk and made getting anything out of my pockets an irritating task. He looked at the smile on my face and he became even more agitated. "You think that's funny?!! I sure don't."
My smile immediately left my face and I told him I was sorry, and I didn't mean to offend him. He just gave me a scowl and finally gave me his cash.
OCD on bills
The second encounter seemed somewhat related to the first. I rang up his total, and this time he had better luck with his pockets. I proceeded to give him his $1.40 in change.
Old Man: "No, no. That won't do."
Me: "I'm sorry, did I count your change wrong?"
Old Man: "No. This dollar bill is crumply. Haven't you got a crisper bill? This just won't fit in my pockets."
It was at that point I really recognized him.
Me: "Well, This next bill isn't as crumply, will that do?"
As I hold out the bill he gets out his glasses and inspects it carefully.
Old Man: "That's all you have?"
I'm losing my patience at this point.
Me: "How about I give you 4 quarters instead?"
Old Man: "Well, fine. I need quarters for the parking meters anyway."
I quickly exchange him the bill for the quarters and left him on his way. While it was a little annoying, the look on his face in both of these encounters just looked so hopeless and pathetic, I really felt more pity for him than true agitation. He was just a little old man who just complained a lot.
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