I think I’ve related my most embarrassing cashier experience elsewhere, but here it is again. I was living in Hawaii, and a friend had stopped off from the mainland on his way to Thailand. He asked me if I thought he should take his own condoms to Thailand or buy them on site. I said if he wanted to make sure of a large size, he should take his own. So later we go to my regular grocery store, Star Market in Honolulu, to pick up some beer. It’s midnight, the place closes at 1am. My friend decides there and then to grab a big super-deluxe box of condoms. So there were are in my regular grocery store, two guys, at midnight, buying a six-pack or two and a large box of condoms. I have no idea if anyone ever remarked on this, but I sure felt uncomfortable.
I’m just being realistic. Working in retail is crappy enough without more arbitrary “rules” being dumped on the staff. Also, the key part is “Professionalism”- checkout staff aren’t “Professionals”, they’re generally high school kids, uni students, or mums with school age kids all trying to get some extra cash. Not the same thing as a doctor, lawyer, minister, etc.
And let’s be honest here- how often, honestly, is this thread topic actually an issue for normal people? I’d suggest “almost never”.
You’re still in a small community- in this case, it’s your local suburb, even though it’s part of NYC.
Once again, it’s hardly arbitrary. In the medical profession, it’s the law.
I’m still waiting for someone to explain how tattling magically removes the pain of working retail.
Might be more accurate to say that the only place it’s NOT an issue is in large suburbs with a lot of vehicle borne shopping (although that’s *exactly *the sort of setting where I ruined Mr. and Mrs. Smith’s anniversary). I live in Chicago, but I regularly see my ex-landlord (whom we did not part on good terms with) at the grocery store. We pointedly ignore each other, and I couldn’t really give a shit if he knows I’m buying nopales and Diet Pepsi, but I might, the cashier doesn’t know…my local stores contain my friends and neighbors, even though Chicago isn’t remotely a “small community”.
Could Mr. Bloggs travel, or buy his widgets online? Sure. But could the cashier show some restraint and not gossip? Just as surely.
Again, I don’t think it’s so much about morals, ethics or even professionalism, as simply being a good person and not blabbing when it’s not your business. I’m just as much a fan of *customers *not blabbing about what they see other customers buying, it’s just that there’s no way to enforce that except by social mores. Cashiers *can *be disciplined by their managers.
I still find it odd that Mr. Bloggs has to travel to another city, apparently wearing a trenchcoat and sunglasses, to avoid the hapless cashier who simply must tattle to stay sane.
On what planet is this?
Doesn’t have to be another freaking city- just the next suburb over or something like that. And that’s only if he’s buying something he really doesn’t want people in his neighbourhood knowing about for whatever reason.
I mean, when I was 18 and wanted to buy certain periodicals (for the articles, you understand) it would have been extremely silly for me to purchase them from the local store because of the extremely high odds that someone the family knew would see me and tell my mum, or the nice elderly couple who ran the store might have said something to my parents.
So, I simply went to the next suburb- where no-one there knew me or my parents from a bar of soap- and purchased my “reading material” there. Wasn’t an inconvenience for me since I had to drive past there for work anyway, and it avoided anyone being potentially embarrassed.
And no-one is saying the cashiers must “tattle” to retain their sanity. It’s more likely to be an innocently-intended “I saw Mr. Bloggs in here earlier today” as a way of having some sort of conversation beyond “Your purchase is $[Amount]. Thank You. Have A Nice Day.” over and over and over again. The problem, of course, is that Mr. Blogg’s wife might say “What do you mean you saw him in here today? I dropped him off at the airport last night; he’s supposed to be in Bolivia until next Thursday!” That’s the sort of situation that I don’t think cashiers should be punished for.
Saying “Mr. Bloggs was in here buying a dozen red roses, a cask of wine, two copies of Big 'Uns magazine, and a box of Studded Nobbler condoms… sounds like he’s got a fun evening planned- wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more” is entirely out of line and I don’t think anyone is arguing otherwise.
For the love of ultimate disco-dancin’ Jesus, this! Plus nine thousand and one.