Part One: Corporation Red

The stupid people: They cannot be helped ...

It was 2006. I was sixteen years old and about to begin my thirdjob. I was starting as a cashier at Red Corporation in the middle ofNovember.

Early on, I learned most everything I needed to know courtesyof two ladies, Cruella and Glenda. Clearly, I liked one more than theother.

Cruella knew her stuff, but she was hateful. Never had I despisedsomeone so much. Cruella taught me everything Red wanted me toknow, and she taught me a few things Red probably did not wantme to know. Cruella showed me all of the ins and outs of the registerterminal. She showed me how to be confident and stare down rudeand nasty customers. She also told me who the managers favoredand disliked, and she taught me how to work the system. I knew Iwanted to be favored by the managers, Goody Two-shoes that I was,but Cruella was so bitter about being in the disliked category that Ijust nodded as she trashed everyone she could think of. Honestly,Cruella did know how to run a register, as well as the service desk,but she was not people-friendly.

Then there was Glenda. Glenda taught me what Cruella couldnot. Most importantly, Glenda taught me to have fun at work. Glendaand I shared more laughs than I knew were possible, and she andI became close. It was because of Glenda's recommendation that Iacquired a position at the customer service desk and eventually anoffice position. Everyone liked Glenda: Years after Glenda resigned,the personnel manager asked her to return to Red. That was nevergoing to happen, but Glenda and I laughed at the thought. My favoritecashier moments happened when I was at work with Glenda.

One evening, I was closing with Glenda. I was at my register, andGlenda was at the service desk. An older woman with graying hairwearing an outfit that was not fit to be worn outside her home camethrough my checkout line. She was carrying a large value packageof toilet paper. I started to scan her other items, and the womanstopped me.

"You need to check that toilet paper for mice," she said. I did nothave a clue what she was talking about. I just looked at her, puzzled.

"Check it for mice! Hold it up to the light and check it for mice!"she exclaimed. Like an idiot, I held the toilet paper package up tothe fluorescent lights and determined that there were no mice.Glenda was laughing herself silly at the desk, and I was completelydumbfounded.

I started examining the package. There were holes in the packagewhere the cardboard rolls were inside the toilet paper. People hadpoked their fingers through the holes to grab on to the package.Everyone does it.

"Those little holes are perfect homes for mice. Thank you forchecking." The woman paid and left. I went to the customer servicedesk and explained to Glenda what had just occurred. We wereespecially confused because we were fairly certain if there hadindeed been mice in those rolls that she would have noticed beforethe 150-foot walk from the toilet paper aisle to the checkout line.But this is simply an observation: What did I know?

Glenda and I proceeded to make fun of this situation when weheard a little girl scream. I looked at Glenda with a very serious lookand shouted, "Oh no! They found mice in the toilet paper!" Welaughed hysterically. It was an incredibly funny coincidence. I did feela twinge of guilt when the little girl came through my line with tearstainedcheeks and whimpering, but it was still exceptionally funny.

Censored thoughts: When to keep your mouth shut ...

Two years later, I had officially been trained at the customer servicedesk, and I knew all there was to know about the register.

Customer service is a special breed of nasty. Although it can befun and mildly entertaining because there are generally more thingsto do than being a cashier, customer service is like being repeatedlyslapped in the face. It is painful and irritating and generally leads tostress relief in the form of smoking, drinking (my preference wasMountain Dew), or complaining.

I knew people could be difficult, but it sometimes felt as thoughRed attracted a special breed of crazy. I mean, the store was in apoor, somewhat trashy community, but there were a lot of religiousestablishments, so I would have guessed that the apparent religiosityin the town would have diluted the unadulterated stupidity andnastiness. However, I was wrong. So very wrong.

A cashier may occasionally incorrectly ring up an item, or theprice may not be what the customer thought it was. The employeemay or may not be at fault.

However, there are times when we have absolutely no controlover the circumstances about which the customer is complaining.My personal favorite is when a product hasn't been available for fiveyears and a customer becomes irate that we no longer carry it. So,one day, a mean lady came into the store and started to complain—no,no, berate me—about the situation noted above. I could feel myblood pressure rising, my heart pounding, and my face burning. But Ijust continued to nod and say "Yes, ma'am." On and on she harassedme. The phone would ring, and she would just keep going. I had tosignal to a cashier to pick it up and transfer it for me. Finally, the ladyshut up, declared she was going to Yellow, and stormed out.

In my mind, I yelled back at her with a smooth presentation offacts that proved this was neither my fault nor Red's. The goods inquestion were no longer being manufactured. However, I remainedsilent because I needed my job and I would have most certainly beenfired had I acted on impulse. I had come to expect such treatmentfrom this woman, who was a regular customer, but the fact remainedthat there was no reason that she should have yelled at me or anyoneelse. Her issue was not the fault of anyone anywhere nearby. Thingshappen, businesses close, and products are discontinued. It's life.

I was in Yellow later that week and saw her when I was shopping.I thought about bludgeoning her in the store but reconsidered whenI thought about the movie I wanted to see that weekend. I did myshopping, and she did hers. She did not even know I existed. Well,as it would happen, I went through the checkout line at the sametime she did. I started in the same line, but when I saw her, I movedover an aisle, mostly to eavesdrop. I overheard her conversationwith the cashier.

"That's the wrong price! That's supposed to be five dollars!" sheexclaimed.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. That is the right price. I called the department,"the cashier replied.

"Well, they lied. They always do that when I am in here. I haveproblems every single time I come in here. Forget it. Cancel thewhole thing—I am going to Red," the mean lady said.

I stood there in a stupor. What? Did she really just play thatcard? Really? A few days earlier, she'd told me the opposite. I havewitnessed this more than once. Customers play this game becausethey think cashiers care if they leave without purchasing something.Well, here's a fun fact: We do not.

Here's a simple ratio for you to explain this fun fact. If a customeris happy, friendly, and personable, the cashier will go above andbeyond to satisfy his or her every...