I’ve worked retail for a year and a half, and I want out sooo bad. I think everyone should be required to cashier for six months of their life, just so they know why I can’t just open the register to give them change for a hundred. (Um hello? Entry-level cashiers cannot do ANYTHING except a normal transaction and usually a return. They cannot break the rules for you, and they cannot open the till.)
Just tonight I snapped at a customer – very rare for me. Three guys, all laughing and chatting, taking about fifteen minutes to grow up enough to order in a haphazard pattern … I’m not sure I got the order right, so I start repeating it back to them, and as I’m talking one of the guys is shoving a twenty at me, going “Here, here, here”.
So I give him a basilisk glare and say loudly “Could you not wave that in my face?” Mentally I added “I’m not a motherfucking stripper and you ain’t putting that shit in my panties, assmonkey, so get it the fuck out of my face until I finish ringing you up!” That shut him up so I could finish repeating the order … and despite the fact that I had his full attention when I told him what he had ordered, I saw later that he’d ordered the wrong drink anyways.
And yes, I hate customers who can’t come to grips with the fact that making their drink takes time. Sir or madam (and I use the terms loosely), if you expect your drink to spring like Athena fully formed from Zeus’s forehead, buy something from fucking Ralph’s!