As I said in my March 4th column, I work for a well-known drug store chain. I have been working as a customer associate now for almost nine months, long enough to have had a baby (which I haven’t, but one of my colleagues had twins!) and long enough to have “regulars” I know by name and date of birth (an ID is needed for purchasing tobacco and/or alcohol).
First, I must state that I love my job. This is important to note, because apart from me, I don’t think anyone else working there loves theirs.
I open the store at 6 a.m. I always get there around 5:45, because I know that I will have at least a half-hour or even an hour’s worth of clearing up after my so-called evening colleagues before I do my own chores, whilst also serving my customers. I’m supposed to finish at 2:30 p.m., but that rarely happens, as it seems my colleagues can’t tell the time.
So what chores do I perform? Well, I have to get rid of yesterday’s newspapers and put out today’s. We only stock three, two local ones and USA Today. Before I throw the old ones out, I read them; hence, I’m slightly behind in the daily occurrences of both local and national “goings on.” However, in my defense, I usually appear more knowledgeable than most, because they don’t read either yesterday’s or today’s papers.
Next, I have to check the temperatures and contents of the fridges (four huge storage units), and if I’ve been off for even one day, I will find something either damaged or out of date.
After that, I have to check on and possibly print any photo orders that have not been actioned. (It seems that apart from me and the lead, no other employees have been trained on anything to do with photos – which, of course, is not the case.) I also clean the machines and everything “up front” – work tops, keyboards, pin pads, computer screens, etc., etc. Again, a task no one else seems able to do on the three mornings when I don’t work.
Doing all of this (after doing what my colleagues didn’t do the night before), and in between serving customers, ensures that the mornings fly by. Now to my customers....
I have three regulars who come in around opening to get their “fixes,” be it Pall Mall 100s or American Spirits Yellow or any combination of Virginia's best leaves. Two are men, Jim and William, both in their 60s, and the third is a lady, Nancy, who is an incredible 84! Who said smokers die young? We greet each other by first names, we exchange comments regarding our families, etc., and warmly and genuinely wish each other “a good one.” Obviously, they don’t come in together or on the same days or at the same times, but I do know they no longer come in unless I’m working, a sign that they like me to serve them, and for me that’s a huge compliment. It also makes my job easier, as I know what they want and it’s a no-brainer in terms of work. Plus, we have a good chat about either politics (Jim), food (William), or family (Nancy). See why I love this job?
After the early birds, I get my 9-11 crowd, a mix of students – both males and females – whose purchases range from “feminine care” products, Plan B, instant noodles, chips, to candy, and usually in that order. The “middle-ers” – customers who come in during the middle of my shift and are in their late 40s and up – are usually men buying condoms and other condiments relating to the bedroom. These always give me an inside giggle, although my poker face is firmly in place during these encounters. They “throw” their goods down on the counter with a slight shake of their heads and a wry sort of smile (especially noted if it’s a jumbo-size box, or Lamb for Extra Feel, and/or lubricants). I casually chat, “How are you today?” “Would you like these in a bag?” Etc. Then, after they’ve paid and are leaving, I can’t help myself and say, “Have a good one,” or even “Have a good time” – all as they’re swaggering out and waving to me.
I have a half-hour break at around 11 a.m., and then it’s the home stretch customers. Again there are regulars, smokers, and drinkers who I enjoy seeing and serving. There are several army guys who look fabulous in their uniforms and always buy healthy things (probably why they look so fabulous). The local police office is close by, so I get a few regulars wearing body armor and other tools. Once, when it was quiet, I asked one of these to let me see everything he was carrying: cuffs, sprays, and a huge, dangerous-looking gun with several rounds of ammo – something I will never get used to in this country is the widespread love of these weapons – plus he told me about the pump-action rifle he had strapped in his car. The weight of these things on his person must have been at least that of a toddler, and they are worn differently by each law enforcer I see. I have only light convos [conversations] with these guys, because I don’t wish to be on their radar. A sheriff also calls in once a month. He’s huge and mean and never takes his mirrored glasses off, so I’ve no idea where or who he’s looking at. But I do know he likes Hershey’s with almonds.
There are also the mentally challenged of both sexes, either born that way or become so because of an accident or drug inducement. One lady, who is very tall and well-built and always wears huge headphones, buys the same thing every week – new headphones! For the most part, she is well-behaved, if a little jittery, but over Christmas she clearly was off her meds and was very vocal and physically abusive to everyone. One male customer got annoyed with her, and I had to step in to prevent fisticuffs. It all calmed down and the next week she was back on her meds and more congenial. Then there’s Steve, who has an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and Tourette’s. He’s a challenge to serve, because, depending which condition is dominant at the time, I don’t know whether to hand him his change or put it down on the counter for him to get himself. The wrong move can lead to a long procedure for him to undo my wrong move: touching the money, etc., three times; rocking back on his feet three times, etc.; and sometimes shaking his head, arms, etc., as well as shouting out. You get the picture and see why it’s important to detect which mood he’s in.
These are just a few of my wonderful regular customers, plus there’s the idiotic! Like the lady who, overhearing me speaking with a man about Dartmouth (his was in New Hampshire, USA; mine was in Devon, UK), said how wonderful it was that England had named many of its places after American ones. I think she felt a bit foolish after the penny dropped and she realized it was the other way around! Or the customer who, on asking where I was from and hearing me say Wales, said he loved Australia. Or the customer who, on our second encounter, having asked where I was from, said she knew that our famous man was William Wallace – no, he was Scottish, but he was a Celt, so chawre teg for her (well done)!
I could go on and on, but I hope I’ve given a flavor of why I love working as a customer associate in a drug store, and of the characters I deal with on a daily basis. They not only keep me on my toes but make me realize how blessed my life is.
| Copyright © 2019 by Penelope Griffiths |
nicely done, dear lady. the small interactions are very important
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