I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
April 3, 2014
“Hello ma’am,” the lady at the register said as I placed a pair of girls tights down on the counter. “Are you ready to check out?”
“I am,” I said smiling, already fumbling for my wallet in my purse. I had exactly five minutes before I needed to be back in the car and on my way to pick up the kids from school.
“Would you like to put this on your store card?” she asked.
“No thanks, I’m going to use my debit card,” I replied.
“Are you sure? You can save 10% on anything you buy today if you open an account with us,” she said.
“No thanks,” I repeated. She gave me a dubious look.
“Okay,” she said. She scanned the bar code on the price tag. Nothing happened. She scanned it again. Nothing happened. She scanned it a third time. Finally, the scanner accepted the code. My left eye started to twitch.
“Do you have any coupons?” she asked when she’d finished.
“Nope.”
“Do you have a rewards card with us?”
“Yes, but I lost the card,” I said.
“What’s your phone number?” she asked.
“615-555-2858,” I said, checking my watch. Three minutes to go.
She typed in the number. “It’s not coming up under that number,” she said. “Can you repeat it for me?”
“615-555-2858.”
She typed it in again, then shook her head. “Nope,” she said. “Could it be under another number?” I gave her my husband’s phone number. She typed it in. “That’s not working, either,” she said. “Let me try that one again.”
“Actually, I’m in sort of a hurry,” I said. “I don’t need to use my rewards card for a ten dollar pair of tights.”
“But you’ll save point-two percent,” she said. “It’s point-two percent Tuesday. Could it be under your cell phone?”
“Yeah, let’s just skip this part,” I said. We were down to one minute. She frowned at me.
“In that case, I’ll just need your zip code,” she said. I gave it to her. “And your e-mail,” she continued.
“I don’t really like to give out so much personal information just to buy a pair of kids’ tights,” I said.
“It won’t let me finish the transaction without an e-mail address,” she said.
“I… I don’t have an e-mail address,” I told her, glancing down again at my watch. I needed to go. Right. Now.
“You don’t have an e-mail address?” she asked me flatly.
“No.”
“Fine, I’ll enter MY e-mail address,” she muttered, typing. “Your total is eleven dollars and seven cents.”
I swiped my debit card in the slot on the machine in front of me. It emitted an ominous beep.
“Try again,” she said. I swiped it again.
BEEEEEEEEEP
“Let me try it,” she said. I handed her my card. She reached over the counter and swiped it.
BEEEEEEEEEEP.
She swiped it again, more slowly.
BEEEEEEEEEEP.
And again, even more slowly.
BEEEEEEEEEEEP.
“I’ll have to enter this by hand,” she said finally. As she painstakingly typed in each number on my debit card, I clutched the counter so hard my fingers turned white. I was tempted to leave– but I really, REALLY needed these tights for my daughter’s costume.
Once she finished entering the number, she paused and looked at me. I looked at her. She looked at me. I looked at her.
“It’s asking you a question,” she said finally, pointing at the card machine. I looked down.
WOULD YOU LIKE CASH BACK WITH YOUR TRANSACTION?
I hit NO.
IS THE AMOUNT ON YOUR SCREEN CORRECT?
I hit YES.
ARE YOU SURE?
I hit YES.
ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE SURE?
I hit YES.
ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE SURE YOU’RE SURE?
I hit YES.
WOULD YOU LIKE A PAPER RECEIPT?
I hit NO.
ARE YOU GOING TO BE LATE TO PICK UP YOUR KIDS?
I hit YES and sighed loudly.
“Would you like to add a dollar to the total amount to help our troops who suffer from indigestion?” the cashier asked me.
“No, not today,” I muttered wearily.
She shook her head in thinly veiled disgust. “I guess they’ll just have to continue suffering, then,” she said softly.
I stared stoically ahead.
Finally, finally, FINALLY, she handed me my bag and the receipt.
“Have a nice day,” she spat as I turned and walkran toward the store entrance.
…And we call this progress?
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I don’t know if anyone’s calling that progress, but YES it has happened to me, and YES it is very annoying!
I’m betting it actually takes longer to make a purchase now than it did 100 years ago!
I might be getting hives just from thinking about the slowwww swipe. Like nails on a chalkboard.
Transactions like that drive me INSANE, oh my word it’s ridiculous!
I hate transactions like that! I would have been tempted to just say “I’m going to be late to pick my kids up if we can’t hurry this up”
OMG.. it happens on this site too.. I try to post, no, have to sign up, fine.. sign up, then get The e-mail address you specified is already in use. (Do you already have an account?)..
So much for fast…
You can actually just comment as a guest, and make up any e-mail you like. No need to register to comment. ๐
LOL that’ll teach me to not pay more attention.
It’s like Target… “Do you want it all on this card?” No, Einstein. I’m going to split the cost of this $1.07 bottle of Coke between multiple payment methods.
LOL! I know!
I become embarrassingly rude extremely fast in those situations. Friends and family pretend they don’t know me.
Payback is returning w/change. Lots of pennies and nickles. Then have them count to make sure it’s the correct amt. (Taking care there isn’t a line of impatient people behind you).
People who become rude like that are what makes working in retail so horrifying for employees. A former fellow cashier gets laid out by stomach viruses on a regular basis now, because she switched to working childcare. But even all that icky sickness isn’t enough to convince her to be a cashier again.
That’s how I felt at Value Vet today. Just picking up meds already prescribed. Slow! Asking all kinds of info she already had on screen. I swear she was playing me.
I totally get it… but the ace in my pocket is that I’m deaf… so I get out of all those annoying questions by just saying “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you” and smiling sweetly. That is guaranteed to get me a deer-in-the-headlights look and a hurry-up-get-through-this mode from the cashier. ๐ (also helps to have KeyRing app on my phone.. it has all my reward cards etc so the cashier can just scan it and we can move merrily on.
WORD. I have a hard time not snapping back at cashiers when they ask for all my personal information.
Just remember that it’s not THEIR idea to ask all that stuff. I worked as a cashier and it’s no more fun for us than it is for you. They are just the cashier and they do as they are told. If you snap at them for asking, you’re just going to make them feel like crap. If you must snap at someone, ask for the manager. (though often, there’s nothing they can do about it either, if it’s company policy)
Oh, I know it’s not their fault… that’s why I try to keep it together!
I understand the pain of long, drawn out transactions and being asked annoying questions. They drive me nuts too. But I used to work as a cashier, and some of the commenters are giving me unpleasant flashbacks of working retail. We don’t ask those questions for the fun of it. And customers who get all rude and huffy just made our work lives miserable.
Of course, it would be GREAT if everyone were polite- but I’ve been on the other side as well, and I went into all of those jobs knowing that I’d have to put up with some rudeness and condescension from people in order to get a decent paycheck.
I never, ever take it out on the cashier- but some businesses (Toys R Us, Macys and Justice, I’m looking at you) have turned the process of simply buying something into the most ANNOYING, long, drawn-out exchange. It’s unbelievable that their higher-ups think this is a good idea!
She shook her head in thinly veiled disgust. โI guess theyโll just have to continue suffering, then,โ she said softly. – http://qr.net/sqr6
HAHAHAHAHAHA. It’s funny because it’s true.