Today was interesting, on the job. There were lots of men entering the store who were clearly unfamiliar with grocery stores in general. They had to be given directions to the card aisle, and several needed help finding the florest's shoppe. (This was for those who needed to get their ticket punched with more than the standard arrangements found at the front of the store.) They were unfamiliar with how to swipe their credit cards when it was time to pay, and appreciated the friendly coaching we gave them.
Three or four women commented to me on how lovely the Valentines Day decorations were this year. I relayed this to the florests after my shift, and they appreciated the relay.
There was one woman who was quivering and shaking. Her husband had died recently, she told me, and she was still having trouble organizing herself. (There are times when cashiering can turn into a bartending job.)
And one more part of the day was less than great. Gwen, who has been a cashier for many a year, is retiring soon. Today, as she was leaving the store, she sat herself down near the door, having to catch her breath. She looked a ashen, to tell the truth. Later, two or three of the women on the staff were looking out the front windows, worried because Gwen was apparently sitting in her car, just sitting. Later still, after my shift had ended, I checked at the manager's desk, and Stacy and Dixie, two of the assistant managers, asked me how available I might be on Thursday, my next day off. They were already working out alternate plans, in case Gwen has to miss work.
I really hope Gwen is all right.
