More Brief Sketches of Life at the MB

More haikus about my thrilling life as a supermarket cashier. (Read part one here.)

I. Ode to Customers Who are Way Too Honest
When asked, "How are you?"
Just lie and say, "Doing fine"
Like everyone else.

II. Ode to Customers Who Get Worked Up Over Nothing
The world will not end
If your chips aren't double-bagged.
Just some perspective.

III. Ode to that Stupid "Must Be Free!" Joke
Har-har-dee-har-har
Never heard that one before!
Sir, you are the first.

IV. Ode to Customers Who Miss the Point
I don't think food stamps
Are really meant to cover
Eighteen packs of gum.

V. Ode to the Store Music
Soft rock's killing me.
Never thought I'd say this, but:
Can't wait for Christmas.

VI. Ode to People Who Complain About the Temperature
Why yes, it is cold.
Been standing here for hours,
So I noticed, too.

Quotes Directly from the MB

MAN (appropos to nothing): I hope my knucklehead son remembers to stir the soup.

LITTLE GIRL: Daddy, can I get this candy?
GOOD FATHER: No, you already had candy today.
LITTLE GIRL: See, this is why I want a nice dad.

GOOD FATHER: You can't have candy every day!
LITTLE GIRL: You're so mean every day.

(These two should get their own sitcom. I'd watch it.)


CUTE LITTLE GIRL: What's your name?
ME: My name's Renée. What's your name?
(Long pause, then:)
CUTE LITTLE GIRL: JJJJJJJAAAASSSSSSSSSMMIIIIINNNNEEEEEE!
MOTHER: That's not your name! Tell her your real name!


GRANDMOTHER, to child trying to sneak out candy: NO! If you don't put that back right now, the policeman will come and take it away!


WOMAN (in a different line, completely out of the blue): Why does your name tag say "four years"?
ME: ...I'm sorry?
WOMAN: Your name tag. Why does it say "four years"?
ME: Because I've been working here for four years.
(embarrassed pause)
WOMAN: Oh.

You can't make this stuff up.

Work and Play

Today was day two of my being back at the Basket, and I remembered just how predictable it all is; in fact, that I was wondering how I was going to get through my six-hour shift tomorrow without dying of boredom. And then, BRILLIANCE (or a mildly amusing idea). Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...

MARKET BASKET BINGO

(click for full size)

Note that:

• "Adorable children" and "Horrible children" are right next to each other...making play more convenient when there are adorably horrible (or horribly adorable) children prancing about.
• You can score a Bingo using both "Boy, it's empty in here today!" and "Why is it so busy in here today?" You'd think they'd be mutually exclusive...but they're not.
• I will freely admit that there are many (mostly) good customers at Market Basket and that occasionally I actually (gasp!) sort of enjoy myself there. But such things do not make for good Bingo squares. (You know I'm right on this one.)

Print this out. Bring it with you the next time you go to the supermarket. I dare you. You'll see just how (sadly) accurate it is. Oh. You'll see.

Market Basket Quote of the Day

Bagger, to adult male customer: Would you like these bags in the carriage or will you carry them?
Man: I'll take them.
Man's elderly mother: Put them in the carriage! *mutters in disgusted tone* Don't be a hero.

Stranger Things Have Happened...No, Wait, They Really Haven't

I wanted to write but nothing too noteworthy happened today, so I will instead make a list of bizarre (but absolutely, 100% true) things that have happened at the Basket.

1. A man walks into a Market Basket supermarket...
...wearing a business suit and wool socks. No shoes. Just socks. It had rained recently. There were puddles. I'm just saying.

2. What's the big deal, anyway?
I give a woman her change. This is our post-sale interaction, verbatim.
WOMAN: Oooooh.
ME: What?
WOMAN: You gave me a Canadian quarter.
ME: ...
WOMAN: ...
ME: Do...you want me to...change it?
WOMAN: Yes. That'd be great.
So I have to go to the signout menu, hit the "no sale" button, and type in my password just because this lady has a thing against quarters with moose on them. Let me tell you something, lady: no one else in the world cares whether your quarter is Canadian or not. It came out of my roll of quarters. It's fine.

3. Didn't I used to have another kid?
A woman just strolled out of the store without her son once. The poor kid stood in the front of the store screaming "Mommy!" I might be mistaken, but I think someone had to go chase after her to get her to come back. For HER OWN CHILD.

4. Gee, what's that sound?
Another one in the category of negligent parents: A woman just stands by as her son flips the handle on the emergency exit door, which results in a loud, piercing, and - most importantly - annoying sound. Said woman calmly collects her children and strolls out without so much as an apology to the employees trying to figure out how to shut the alarm off or a reprimand to her precious child.
I amended my customer "hello-how-are-you" speech from "have a nice day" to "have a quiet day."

5. Scoot off a cliff, why dontcha?
Third in the Parental Negligence Series: a kid (around ten, maybe) will sometimes come into the store around 8 at night and ride his scooter along the front of the store (inside, not out) for no apparent reason, despite the fact that he's been kicked out multiple times for doing so.

6. Could I change four ridiculous hissy fits for one full-fledged tantrum?
A man asked me to make change in fives for his twenty. I politely told him that I can't make change (it's against store policy/rules) and that he could get change at the courtesy booth. He promptly exploded all over me.
ME: I'm sorry, sir, I can't make change.
MAN: What?! Don't give me that! I can see in your drawer; you've got a ton of fives right there!
ME: I'm not allowed to make change, sir. You can go over to the courtesy booth...
MAN: I don't WANT to go to the courtesy booth!
Well, I don't want to be having this conversation. Life just sucks for us both, I guess.
ME: I'm very sorry, sir.
MAN: They make change for me all the time at the [insert name of other town here] store!
Does this look like the [other town] store?! No. I don't care about what they do at the other store; I care about what my bosses tell me to do HERE. And they told me not to make change. I value my paycheck more than your constant need to have things your way.
ME: I'm sorry.
But not really.

7. Yummy!
A woman came through my line munching on dog biscuits. I was rather alarmed. I've been informed since, by someone I know, that dog treats are actually quite tasty. I suppose they'd be sort of like meat snacks (like jerky or whatever), but I'm a vegetarian - what do I know?

I still think it's weird, though.

I thought I had more stories than this. Poo.

Bennigan's Declares Bankruptcy! And Other News No One But Me Cares About

Yes, that's right. I am in a state of shock, awe, and sadness - shockawness (that sounds surprisingly like "Loch Ness" with an "-a-" in the middle, as if someone were saying it with a bad, stereotypical Italian accent. Anyway.)

So, yeah, no more Spicy Queso Beer Dip. No more vegetarian fajitas. No more desserts my dining companions assured me were meat by-product free before "discovering" marshmallows in them ("them" being the desserts, not my dining companions).

In short, I've lost my "hey-I-just-achieved-something-let's-go-to-Bennigan's-to-celebrate" spot. Apparently, the privately owned Bennigan's (Bennigan'ses?) will remain open, but they're all in, like, Texas or someplace, and how does that help me? I've never achieved anything in Texas except a sunburn.

Hmmm, what else? Honeydew melons are on sale this week. In my five weeks of employment at the ever-lovely haven known as Market Basket, I'd never once crossed paths with a honeydew melon. (Which was fine by me...something about those things just irks me. I think it's because they're too smooth. Literally.) But suddenly everyone and their mom is buying melons. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration. But still. The Honeydews (yes, capital H) and I have made contact.

Also popular this week: Really heavy stuff that's awkward to lift and even more awkward to scan through the price scanner. Stuff like dog food (for Clifford?! Seriously, whose dog eats THIS MUCH in between trips to the MB?), charcoal (grill, grill, grill, suckas!), kitty litter (a deceptively cutesy name for a very non-cutesy item), and so on. Large, unwieldy 24-packs and 35-packs of water bottles (in various sizes) remain a must-have item for every single shopper. Sometimes they will even insist upon loading all FIFTY SIX (or, you know, four) of their Awkward Water Packs onto the conveyor belt and pushing the carriage all the way to the end so that I have no choice but to scan each individual bulky package. Arg.

Still have not seen The Dark Knight. I actually have no desire to - ahhh! Please stop throwing rotten fruit at me! I KNOW, it's the performance of Heath Ledger's career! I KNOW it was awesome! I've heard about the "pencil trick" (although no one will explain the awesomeness of the "pencil trick" to me...they - "they" being my friends that have seen The Dark Knight, most likely multiple times - only look at each other knowingly and go, "Pencil...trick..." in my presence). But seriously. Stop trying to convince me to see it. I'm just not a Batman kind of gal. I like movies where people break into song. Preferably in Greece. With Colin Firth. And ABBA songs.

So, take a guess which movie I'll use my movie-watching budget on before devoting the hypothetical leftover cash to this Batman guy. Just take a gander.

Apart from Mamma Mia, I really want to see Girl With a Pearl Earring. No, not just because Colin Firth is also in that. I actually just finished reading the book (which I bought for $14.90 - sale! - at Borders before realizing that I could have just borrowed it from my mom). It was pretty good. Not my new favorite, but it was in the running there for a little while. Since I finished that, I've tried rereading The Enchanted April, which I'd started last year. I'd never gotten past the first page of the second chapter. But since I'd read A Room with a View earlier this year (and liked it), and the critical praise on the back of The Enchanted April said that those who loved A Room with a View would also love The Enchanted April, I figured, hey, let's give it another try. So I am. And I'm liking it so far (I'm just over 1/3 of the way through it). I really should go to the library and pick up some books to bring with me on vacation next week. On the other hand, I really SHOULDN'T go to the library and pick up some books. I've still only just made a dent in my mandatory (?) school reading - The Wisdom of Crowds by James Surowiecki - and I really should do some more work on it. On the OTHER hand, if you can't relax and read what you want to while you're on VACATION, when can you?!

Finally, speaking of vacations, Jess and I both have TOMORROW OFF! Well, she has something in the morning, and I have to tutor at three-thirty, but other than that, it's gonna me Renée and Jess: Best Friends Together Again! (Cue music: "Reunited and It Feels So Good")

Off to read, sleep, and enjoy the fact that tomorrow I am living SUPERMARKET FREE!!! I mean, until I try to cook a meal for myself. Then it's all "Gotta get some bread -two for three dollars if it's generic - some sugar, some cinnamon, and some I Can't Believe It's Not Butter! and slice up some 4174s to make turnovers. Yum!" "Pass the 4066s, please." "Why are there 4497s in the fridge?! You know I only like 4023s!"

Jess - and other Market Basket employees - will understand. Well, they'll understand the codes, anyway, I'm probably the only one that thinks of her fruits and veggies in terms of produce codes.

Well, good night.

Brief Sketches of Life at the MB

In haiku form, because I'm feeling especially creative.

I. Ode to the Indecisive Customer
You say you want it
You bring it to the checkout
You don't want it now.

II. Ode to the Person Who Doesn't Understand the Concept of Produce Codes
It's a pear, you say
A pear! One-ninety-nine!
I smile; type the code.

III. Ode to My Register
Why must you hurt me?
I only tried to wash you.
You cut my finger.

IV. Odes to Working Past Closing
I ring items up.
When did the line get so long?
Oh, right; it's closing.

Everyone rushes
To put their stuff on the belt
I inwardly cuss.

V. Ode to Breaking Down the Bread Aisle
Hey, I was just here
How did it get so messy?
Unsupervised kids.

VI. Ode to Doing Overstock
Where does this belong?
I can't find a spot nearby.
Hide it in the back.*

*Not that I actually do this.

VII. Ode to Damaged Goods
Ice cream in bread aisle
Melts faster than you might think
Three dollars wasted.

VIII. Ode to WIC Transactions
The road to hell is
Not paved with good intentions
But with damned WIC checks.

IX. Ode to Those Who Move the Divider Between Orders
I am not psychic.
I don't know which stuff is yours
And which stuff is theirs.

X. Ode to Calling For Voids
Blink blink goes my light
Supervisor override
Ah, back to normal.

XI. Ode to the Lazy Bagger
Stuff is piling up
I wonder what's going on
Bagger is texting.

XII. Ode to the Customer who Oversteps Her Bounds
I get paid chump change
To scan your items through, ma'am.
Please don't scan your own.

XIII. Ode to the Break Room
Awfully hot in here
Microwave gross, flies on walls
"Broken room," more like.

XIV. Ode to Leaky Items
Mysterious goo
Sticks to my hands for hours
Get me some Purell!

XV. Ode to Crying Children
Little boy throws fit
Please just buy him the candy
Or else shoot me now.

XVI. Ode to Awkwardly Lovable Customers
Don't be embarrassed
Sir, I know those tampons are for
Your lovely wife.

XVII. Ode to the Dress Code
"Recommended shoes:
Low heels or pumps for women."
Ha ha ha ha...no.*

*Stand in heels/pumps for FIVE HOURS STRAIGHT? Dress code was obviously written by a man.

XVIII. Ode to the Customer who is Strapped for Cash
Why yes, sir, you can
Pay with both cash and debit.
I'd prefer you don't.

XIX. Ode to Customers Who Pay All in One-Dollar Bills
Your bill was quite large
Why did you pay all in ones?
Why do you hate me?

XX. Ode to the Receipt Machine
This lady ordered
Three bazillion items
Why must you jam now?!

Be kind to your local supermarket staff. They deal with all this - and WORSE - on a daily basis. Plus, if you're an especially annoying customer, they'll complain about you to their friends and possibly blog about you. So yeah, be nice.

BONUS! From Chris, as I IM him while writing this:
Customer must leave,
"Just going to get money."
Cart never reclaimed.

My reply:
Void the whole order
Oh Lord, just kill me now please
Supervisor pissed.

And that's life at the MB.

Eau de Market Basket

I just returned home from working the "five to close" shift at the MB (!!!), feeling lonely and dejected because

a.) I'm missing my aunt's "Watch the Fireworks from my Back Porch" cookout.
b.) I am the ONLY one missing aforementioned cookout.
c.) Someone nearby is setting off fireworks which I can hear but cannot see, which only serves to rub the "ha-ha, loser, you had work" salt in my figurative wound.

So I walked into the house, happy at least to see that the cat was waiting for me at the door. So I sat down on the stairs, the epitome of one who is, as previously mentioned, lonely and dejected, and said to the cat, "Come sit with me, Katie. I'm lonely and I need SOMEONE to hang out with." (On the way home from work, I seriously considered finding some dolls and large stuffed animals in the attic, setting them up around the kitchen table, cooking myself a veggie burger, and having an imaginary cookout. You think I'm kidding. I'm really not. But that was too pathetic, not to mention borderline psychotic. )

Anyway, the cat did her whole "I do not follow your foolish whims, lower life form. I am a CAT" stare but eventually hopped up on the step next to me and let me pat her a little. I must say, I was pleasantly surprised. This is the cat who refuses to visit me when I am deathly ill and am using up my last ounces of energy to snap my fingers and cluck my tongue and whistle, all in hopes of enticing the cat to visit so I don't feel like a complete doof. Her usual response is to sit innocently in the hallway just outside the door, looking at me as if to say, "I wish I knew what you were trying to say to me. I haven't the faintest idea what you're getting at. Toodles, off to cry until someone feeds me."

So anyway, the cat was standing next to me, allowing me to pat her, then she gave my work-issued smock a sniff and subtly began to edge away. I know why: the smell of Market Basket. (It's not the smell of me. Underneath the smock, I smell flowery and shower-fresh.)

I always knew that Market Basket has a very distinct smell. It's sort of metallic, which I suppose comes from the canned goods, money, etc. But my cat, who has smelled both cans and money before, wouldn't shy away from them. So I must conclude that there is more to the MB's odor than meets the nose. I have broken it down as follows:

Base scent: Metal (coins, cans, carriages, doors, checkout console-thingies, etc.)
With overtones of: Depression, dismay, boredom, false perkiness, grocery items, and soul-crushing defeat
And undertones of: Mild physical pain (from the standing, dontcha know), resentment (of both customers and anyone who ISN'T working at Market Basket), and (surprise!) slight amusement (at the ridiculousness of a good number of the things that go down while one is on duty)

Hmmm, speaking of smell....it seems that a skunk has decided to traipse through my yard. I'm so glad it's summer and ALL THE WINDOWS ARE OPEN. Deee-lish.

As I write this, I'm venting to Jess via AIM, because not only is she my best friend (despite my uncanny ability to turn HER complaints into complaints of my own...because I'm a narcissist and that's what we do best), but she also works at Soul Crushers, Inc. (aka the MB). As such, she is very sympathetic, even when I ramble on for ages without allowing her to get an IM in edgewise:

Me: and then i felt stupid later because i was putting hamburger and hot dog rolls in a bag myself (b/c they're bread and you know how you bag it yourself) and i went to go put the hamburger rolls in with the hot dog ones and i was like (in my head) hmm, that won't all fit. so I took out the hamburger rolls and grabbed the bag with just the two packages of hot dog rolls and the customer dude took the bag and went...
Me: "renee, I'm just gonna rearrange these because i don't want squished hot dog rolls."
Me: okay. bastard.
Me: i mean, a.) how exactly will two packages of hot dog rolls squish EACH OTHER?
Jess: people like that are annoying.
Me: b.) you don't need to ANNOUNCE it to me. I mean, i know I'm an employee and you're a customer so you can just piss all over me if you feel like it, but it's RUDE.
Me: and c.) YOU DON'T KNOW ME. DON'T CALL ME BY NAME JUST BECAUSE MY TAG SAYS IT.
Me: that's in case you're being accidentally fed into the cardboard compactor in the back and you need to know my name so you can shout "RENEE! HELP ME! I'M BEING FED INTO THE CARDBOARD COMPACTOR!" and specifically get my attention.
Jess: because that happens all the time. xD but I get what you're saying.
Me: oh, it WOULD have happened if i had anything to say about it.
Me: except in that scenario, the customer would be screaming, "RENEE! NO! I'M SORRY! PLEASE DON'T FEED ME TO THE CARDBOARD COMPACTOR!"

That's right. Beg for mercy. Do it. Remember who you're dealing with. This chick is crazy. We're talking "assigns-a-smell-to-her-place-of-employment, contemplates-imaginary-parties-with-imaginary-guests, fantasizes-about-feeding-customers-to-the-cardboard-compactor" CRAZY.

And then she blogs about it.

That's either very healthy (cathartic) or very disturbing ("Publicizes fantasy life," my future shrink will perhaps note.)

At any rate, it's ME. Peace out (for now).