Thursday, I stopped by the School-Turn Casey's for scratchers. There was one clerk working, and one guy ahead of me as I got in line. Clerk started talking to him about the schedule, and how it's difficult for her. Not something you might discuss with a customer, you'd think. She was mid-30s, old enough to know better. She didn't greet him like they were friends.
A guy clerk came out of the kitchen area to the other register, and asked me,
"Are you paying cash?"
"Yes."
I noticed a sign turned sideways saying that register couldn't take cards. That seems to be a regular problem at this location. Guy Clerk didn't so much ask me as spit out the words accusingly, as if he was hoping he didn't have to wait on me.
I handed him my two winners. "I'm cashing in $10, and buying more tickets. I'd like a number 7..."
Guy Clerk stepped behind the tall ticket case. Girl Clerk said something to him while finishing up the other customer's transaction. Guy Clerk responded. Then told her he SAID she could go. Maybe on a break, maybe she was leaving, since it was 4:00.
Then Guy Clerk peered around the case with his beady eyes burning into me, as if to say "AND?" I told him a number 12, and he turned to talk to Girl Clerk some more. Then gave me the stink-eye again. "Anything else?"
"Did you get the number 12?"
"Yes!"
"Okay, and a number 16."
What I really wanted to say was, "Excuuuuuuse me! I didn't know if you were done with your conversation yet!"
Let the record show that Val is always prepared for her lottery transactions. Names the tickets, forks over the exact amount of cash, and is done. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, nice and breezy, done! I name off the ticket numbers as the clerk is tearing off the previous one. I don't spout out a long list of numbers. But I can't do that when a clerk is not looking at me, but is preoccupied with talking to a co-worker.
I guess it's too much to expect those clerks to do the job they are being paid for before they take time for a gripe session about shift schedules.
Service seems eliminated from the term "service worker" in some places.
ReplyDeleteIt usually seems to be the younger people who don't grasp the concept of "work," but these two were well into their 30s.
DeleteHick's friend had a daughter who graduated from college a couple years ago. She got a job in Florida. It was an office job, related to her degree. Moved there, then called to tell her mom a week later that she was quitting. "They expect me to be there 8 HOURS, Monday through Friday! This is not for me." I guess she didn't learn the definition of "job" in college.
I really hate it when clerks have a conversation that takes precedence over helping me. Of course, some things they must talk about, but things that can wait for later seem so important. Sometimes, I get confused as to whether they are talking to me r not. I lose interest in their conversation.
ReplyDeleteIf you keep talking to them, you might get the exasperated sigh, rolling eyes, and asked to repeat yourself. But if you stop talking to them, they act like you're holding up their line by being indecisive!
DeleteI'm guessing he was called in to do a shift when he wasn't expecting to, that would make me snippy too, though I hope I would never let the customers know.
ReplyDeleteI don't know. It was the Gal Clerk doing all of the complaining. But she was overly polite to her customer, sharing her feelings with him!
DeleteThe older I get, the less patience I have with with such people. I have been known to snap at them and ask them if they hate thier job or if I might be their problem. I also take the time to sent emails to the employer. Sometimes I ask them if they have ever encountered a secret shopper grading their performance. When they say no or look confused, I tell them they have just encountered one. I lied, I know.
ReplyDeleteHeh, heh! They probably spend a few days stewing over that Secret Shopper idea, and might even be polite for a limited time until they forget.
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