Cashiers Who Don't Have The Social Skills To Know What Is Or Is
Not Appropriate Subject Matter Of Which To Make Chit-Chat With A
Customer
I
tried to come up with some clever play on words or some brilliant
alliteration or something for the title of this, but nothing was
coming to me. Hence, the long, overly descriptive juxtaposition
of words in bold, above.
Continuing
my theme of humanity's
inhumanities to humanity, check. This. Out.
I
was at Target (tar-zhay') buying anti-freeze or something,
and, being an accidental impulse shopper, I noticed an interesting
tin of mints being sold in the candy display in the checkout aisle.
It wasn't too expensive, so I grabbed it and put it on the conveyor
with the other stuff I was purchasing.
The
cashier started to ring up my items and said, "How are you
today?"
"Fine,
thanks," was my reply as I retrieved my wallet and started
to remove my debit card.
"Doing
some shopping today, I see."
I
tried hard not to succumb to the near-violent urge to contract the
muscles that cause the eyeballs to rotate upwards and to the left
in their orbitals.
Then
she got to the tin of mints. As she swiped the small container over
the scanner, making that familiar beep noise, she paused to look
more closely at the product.
"Oh!,"
she said with a surprised tone in her voice. "Trying something
new today?"
What
the!?!?!
What
kind of a question is that? What do you say to that?
Let's take stock of the situation:
(a) I've
never seen this woman before in my life.
(b) I don't
shop at Target very often.
(c) I highly
doubt she is privy to my mint consumption habits, let alone what
kinds of mints I am wont to consume.
I
don't know about you, but I don't like people noticing "the
way I am" and calling attention to it. It's fine if I point
it out myself. That's why I say stuff like, "That's what I
do," or "That's the kind of hairpin I am."
But when someone else says, "I noticed that you're that way,"
I want to say, "Thank you for the astute analysis of my personal
traits, Dr. Freud. Any other keen observations?"
Fantasy
Conversation With The Nebby Target Cashier:
NTC:
Oh! Trying something new today?
Me:
Do you get lonely?
NTC:
Excuse me?
Me:
Does silence make you uncomfortable?
NTC:
I beg your pardon?
Me:
NTC:
Me:
NTC:
Nice weather we're having, isn't it?
Me:
See what I mean? Can't you just have a quiet moment and a silent
transaction without having to fill it with your inane observations
and pointless drivel?
NTC:
I'm sorry, is there ...
Me:
Would you please explain to me how exactly,
in any rationally conceivable sense in the known universe,
it is any of your freaking business
whether this tin of mints [holding the mints up to her nervously
grinning face] is 'something new' that I'm trying
or the eighth entire tin of mints I've eaten
since breakfast this morning?
NTC:
I ... um.
Me:
You don't have to answer. It was a rhetorical question.
Silence is OK.
NTC:
Me:
NTC:
Me:
See? That wasn't so bad, was it?
NTC:
Here's your re- ...
Me:
Shhhhh! Just hand it to me. There you go. Well done. Thank you.
Have a nice day.
Library
“Help”
My
local library has a self-checkout station that allows you to scan
your library card and scan your books. You can view your account,
fines, etc., and renew books as well. I've done this dozens of times
with no problems. Sure, sometimes the scanner can be finnicky and
you have to have the card or books positioned just right, but it's
nothing I cannot figure out on my own.
Yesterday,
I was minding my own business, checking out my books, when the Library
Helper Lady started to hover. I could "feel" her looking
at me, trying to detect the slightest hesitation of apparent confusion.
Don't
look up. Just act confident. You know what you're doing. You don't
need any hel ...
"Is
everything going OK?"
"Fine,
thank y ..."
"Here,
just place the books like this ..."
At
this point, she started handling my books. Now, I don't know about
you, but I take some weird titles out of the library and I consider
it a very private and personal enterprise. I do a lot of research
on various subjects that some might find to be strange or obscure,
but that's my business. And when I return books to the library,
I like to drop them in the return slot without any fuss or some
loose-lipped librarian commenting on my choice of reading material.
So when the Library Help starts handling the books I've chosen,
I get irritated.
Biting
my tongue, I let her "help" me as she continued to hover
and to anticipate my every move, apparently protecting me from making
an error or having to figure something out for myself.
Once
I finished, I walked to an adjacent area to get my checked-out items
organized and happened to notice a woman and her daughter walking
up to the self-check-out station.
I glanced over at Library Helper Lady, who, like a spider sensing
its prey in its web, immediately took notice of her two new "patients."
From a short distance I watched as she slowly rose from her chair,
eyes locked on her targets, studying them, sensitive to even the
slightest hesitation that might indicate an urgent cry for help.
Cautiously, steathily, Library Helper Lady stalked the hapless mother
and daughter. Soon she was well within their airspace as she continued
to hover, waiting for the right moment to intervene.
Then
it came. The mother aimed her index finger to hit the "Print
receipt" but then hesitated for a split second. This was the
moment Library Helper Lady was waiting for.
"If
you want to print a receipt, you just hit that button."
"OK,
thank you."
"No
problem at all. That's why I'm here. Just let me know if you have
any further questions."
She
started to walk back to her desk, but she still couldn't peel her
eyes away from the mother and daughter. She continued to study them,
wanting to be there if they got stuck or confused and didn't know
what to do. She seemed to smile contentedly at herself, pleased
to be the one who rescued library patrons from their confusion or
unfamiliarity with the dauntingly intimidating technology that threatens
to destroy the fragile emotional well-being of her charges.
Fantasy
conversation with the Library Helper Lady:
Me:
Hi. I was just watching you from over there. You really seem
to be concerned about patrons and their ability to check out their
own books.
LHL:
Aw shucks. Well, I do what I can. I'm just here to help.
Me:
That check-out station is for people to check themselves out,
right?
LHL:
Yes.
Me:
So why don't you let them check themselves out?
LHL:
What do you mean?
Me:
How do you expect people to learn how to do things themselves if
you're always hovering over them, preventing them from making mistakes,
and learning from those mistakes?
LHL:
But they need me. They're so ... helpless ... so needy.
I'm here for them. I love them ...
Me:
Do me a favor. Just give the chance to screw up. Let me fail.
Let me make a mistake.
LHL:
But what if you ...
Me:
I'll survive. Really. If you see me walking over there to check
out some books, I don't want you to come near me. I don't want you
to look at me. If I so much as see you move one inch in my direction,
I will kick you so hard in the shins that you will be taken to the
hospital on a stretcher. Do I make myself clear?
LHL:
Me:
Do I make ...
LHL:
Yes [tears begin to well up in her eyes]. But ...
Me:
And here are pictures of my wife and children.
LHL:
Ah yes, I recognize them.
Me:
I figured you would. You are not to go near them. Do you understand
me?
LHL:
But they need m ...
Me:
I will kick you SO hard ...
LHL:
OK.
Me:
So we're good?
LHL:
Me:
[Getting into kicking position] SO. hard.
LHL:
Yes. We're good.
Poems
Poems
are pretentious.
All that rhyming and stuff.
Verbal "riffs," the stench is
Quite actually enough
To gag a hippopotamus
Which means "river horse."
©2005
James Hilston
Face
Hugger
This
is one of my favorite things. It's a face hugger. Don't worry; I
think it's dead. I pried it off the face of some hapless space-faring
traveler I stumbled upon whilst exploring the ruins of a derelict
spacecraft in my spare time. His chest had already burst, spawning
the alien seed that had been planted within him by the face hugger,
so I didn't waste any time sealing it inside of an acid-proof Ziploc®
Baggie I happened to have in my backpack.
Now
I keep it on a bookshelf in a jar of formaldehyde. Every once in
a while, it seems to twitch. But I know it's just my imagination.
Great
Moments in
Anytime
Phrase™
History
“Maybe
a dingo ate your baby.”
Elaine,
as played by Julia Louis-Dreyfus on NBC’s Seinfeld, season
3.
My
Contribution to the
Judicial Computer Project
(This is boring. Don't read it.)
I
usually park on the North Shore of the Allegheny and ride my bicycle
into town. I park on the street next to Heinz Field where there
is two-hour street parking until 4 p.m. I start work at 2 p.m. so
it's perfect.
The
Pittsburgh Police Department hangs signs on trees that say "No
Parking P.P.D." whenever there is a game at PNC Park or Heinz
Field. The irritatiing thing is this: They don't take the signs
down on days that the Pirates are out of town. The signs are left
there for days, rain-soaked and faded.
I
got into the habit of parking there anyway, since the signs appear
to be meaningless. I found out that they're not meaningless on game
days. Instead of putting up new signs, which would indicate to me
that there must be a game that day, they leave the old ones up.
So, unless I checked the Pirates' schedule, I have no way of knowing
at the moment whether it's OK to park there or not.
Not
only did I take a chance and park there anyway, but I stupidly did
not move my car when I should have -- I usually do so around 6 p.m.
when parking on the street near my building is free.
So
I found a ticket under my wiper blade. It was written at 6:15 p.m.
The price I will have to pay for my criminal behavior is -- are
you sitting down? -- $90.50. That breaks down to $50 fine, plus
$30.50 for "costs" plus 10.00 for the "Judicial Computer
Project," which, incidentally, was written in by the officer
over the $1.50 actually printed on the ticket.
I've
begun taking photographs, with time/date stamped on them, of those
signs. If I decide to fight this, I'll show the photos to the judge
and see if I can get my fine reduced.
But
the more I think about it, the more I'm inclined to just pay the
"protection money" to the "mob," rather than
raise a ruckus and call undue attention to myself. Because, if I
do make a big stink, the officers that patrol the area will likely
find out about it and they'll watch me like a hawk. And another
mistake would cost me another $90.50. So it's probably not worth
it.
The
sickening thing is $90 is about a month's worth of night-rate parking.
Which is the whole point of parking a distance away from my building.
But I suppose I still come out ahead in the long run.
There
Must Be a Catchy Phrase ...
After my bicycle
was stolen, I had to go several days without riding one. I became
concerned that I might forget how to ride a bicycle if I too much
time were to elapse before riding again.
Imagine my
delight to find out how easy it was when I was kindly given a bicycle
to replace my stolen one. I hopped on it and just took off like
I had been riding all my life. It was just like ... just like ...
There must be some sort of catchy phrase I could put here. It was
just like ...
It'll come
to me.
Lives
saved today: 49
Lives
saved today: 18
