The Lens:
I felt the need for some lighter fare this week. I know “Hauntings” doesn’t sound like lighter fare. But it really is.
I was looking over some of my past writings. (Some time ago, I took up writing, as a form of chronicling life, therapy, amusement, etc.) Every now and then I take a peak and see where I was at another point in time.
The story that follows occurred in 2008. I know because that is when the recession hit and our finances took a major hit. Here’s the story written those many years ago . . .
Desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ve gone back to shopping at the grocery store for the masses. A few years ago, with a move to the suburbs, I started shopping at a store somewhere between cheap and high-end. It didn’t take long to get used to a better quality of groceries in terms of meats, produce, and other items. I also quickly became accustomed to the customer service that goes along with a market a step above – short lines, little crowding in the aisles, etc.
Prices at my new store were pretty good, too. Meat was pricier, but a much better quality. Fruits and vegetables were better and cheaper. What my new store lacked, though, were non-name brand and bulk items.
At the time, our income was such that I did not need to worry too much about the extra it cost me to buy Coke versus store-brand cola.
With the current recession, I have found the need to worry. I still shop at my preferred store for meats, produce, and many other groceries. But, I have returned to the store I had shopped for most all my life.
Some things are the same no matter where you shop. Cheerios are Cheerios. But, the prices aren’t always the same. And, then there are the store brands and bulk items. I can get a 5 gallon tub of ice cream for the same price at the cheap store as I can get a quart and a half my cut-above store. Ok, the ice cream is not as creamy, nor are there dozens of flavors to choose from, but, with a teenager in the house who can go through the quart and a half in two-to-three days, the savings are huge.
They say you can never go home. The truth is you can. It is just never easy. When I shop at the bargain store, I go on in the morning on my day off in the middle of the week to avoid the crowds. That helps. But nothing can help the lack of customer service.
Now, I do not want to disparage the workers. I do feel they try their best. But, they are working in a rat race with non-functioning equipment and, it seems, minimal training.
The trick to shopping at any store is getting to know the checkers. You want to know the ones who are good at what they do so you can get in their line. More importantly, you want to know the ones who don’t know what they are doing and avoid them at all costs. I often choose self-checkout where available. I know exactly how fast the checker will go because I am the checker.
On my last shopping excursion to my I-need-to-be-conservative-with-a-buck store, I made a huge mistake, though, of going through the self-checkout line.
First, none of the scanners were working properly. Of the four customers at the four self-checkout stations, four needed help. The scanners wouldn’t scan. The weight sensor detected phantom items or none at all. I had to fight with the scanner and pull items on and off the scale managing to have assistance only once. Then came time to pay.
In this particular store, my ATM card does not work. Mind you, it works everywhere (and I do mean everywhere) else but in this store. I am now realizing my card will likely not work. I try anyway, to no avail.
I have to get the clerk to help me. She tries sliding my card several times. Then tries putting it in a plastic bag and swiping a few more times. I ask to deaf ears, can you just plug in the number. Finally, I ask if I can just write a check. Meanwhile, three other self-checkout people are asking for help, their patience getting thin.
Mercifully, or so I think, she says yes to the check, then proceeds to tell me to finish bagging my stuff while she helps the other customers and then she will take my check.
Now I am pretty pissed off. I was here first. She was helping me. Why should I have to go to the back of the line while she goes and helps everyone else?
Mercifully, or again so I think, a manager comes over and uses the phone to call for checkers. When he hangs up, I ask him in a rather frustrated tone if there isn’t anyone who can just take my check so I can get out of there.
At this point, I guess it becomes clear there has been a major melt down at self-checkout. The manager steps up to help me. I figure the amount I owe and he takes my check.
Here is where things go from worse to hideous. As he is processing my check, the manager asks if I would like help to my car. I have two cases of water, but before I have a chance to reply, he starts calling over one of the courtesy clerks. I tell him I don’t need help. I just want to get going.
By now the clerk, the helpful androgynous one, is trying to take my basket. I, again, tell the manager, really I’m fine. I do this all the time. It is good for me to heft the water, to which he replies, “I don’t want you to leave upset.” Not only is that not possible, but now I feel like an idiot.
The clerk has gained control of my basket and is not yielding. I try one more time, “Really, I can do this,” with no luck. I relent.
We get to the door and I can see it is now raining. It was May, and yet it was raining. I make one final attempt to convince the clerk to give me my basket but he/she is steadfast in helping me to my car, “It’s not raining hard,” he/she says.
I grab my umbrella and make a dash for the car. Not because I am afraid of getting wet, but because I want to not just get out of there but to get the hell out of there.
I have my little car instead of my SUV which my son has taken, so while he/she is putting the water in my tiny trunk, I grab the other bags and quite literally through them in the back seat of the car.
I profess my deepest thanks, get in my car, and get the hell out of there.
The Refraction:
First, I will note that, at the time I wrote this, people weren’t using “they” as a self-identifying singular pronoun. In addition, I was just indicating I couldn’t tell if the clerk was a man or woman. I have no idea what would have been his/her/they preferred pronoun. So, I am sticking with just not knowing the clerk’s gender.
If you do the math, you know this took place getting close to 13 years ago. And, yet, as I read this, I can see this nightmare playing out like it was yesterday. The anger and frustration, that turns into profound embarrassment. Ugh.
Out of sight, out of mind. But, when in sight, this episode kind of haunts me. In my account of the event, I lament the lack of customer service at the store-for-the-masses. I do note customer service as being “short lines, little crowding in the aisles, etc.” I probably should have included working scanners.
We are all contradictions of ourselves. Under some circumstances, I can have the patience of Job. In others, my patience is that of a child on Christmas eve.
If I look back honestly, part of the problem was my lack of patience. I could have just rolled with the punches. I know the shopping experience won’t be the finest at this store. I wasn’t in a hurry. Was the 5 to 10 (maybe more!) extra minutes worth getting myself worked up into a frenzy?
Also, when lamenting what lacked in service, I failed to acknowledge the customer service that did exist. I shop at these stores enough that they get to know my face.
Off the top of my head, I can’t remember anyone at this store who was less than kind to me. On this day, there was the manager doing the best he could to rectify the situation and send me off a happy shopper. And, of course, there was the clerk who braved the “light” rain to help me to my car. He/she was not only helpful but always kind and quite competent.
Do you ever feel like you wronged someone and you need to make amends? When I think back on this, I wish I had gone back at some point and thanked both of these individuals taking the time to try to appease me.
A little over a year ago, I had someone go off on me. The badgering, and at times threats, kept up for a while. It was over the top and, I felt, very unwarranted. It was horribly upsetting. Then, nothing, followed by kindness. I was completely perplexed by the turnaround but grateful for it. Months later, I got a long email apology for how I had been treated.
When I told my husband about the apology, he said the person was an alcoholic. I said, “What??” having no idea where a statement like that came from.
He said one of the 12 steps is to make amends with those you have wronged. When he said that, it all made sense. The apology gave me a new perspective and a sense of compassion. I don’t want to be best buds with that person but am no longer carrying around the baggage from the treatment.
I read an article today in the San Francisco Chronicle (Jill Tucker “Experts see cult-like behavior in Trump’s most extreme followers. Breaking them free may not be easy.”). I have been grappling with the views of some people close to me. This article offered a new perspective that gave me a sense of compassion and forgiveness.
I will ask again if you have ever wronged someone and felt the need to make amends? If you have, did you? Of the times in my life when I have been wrong, I am haunted by the ones where I didn’t at least try to make amends.
I haven’t shopped at that store in years. I have no idea if either of these individuals still work there. Who knows if they even remember the incident. Even if they don’t, that doesn’t mean it didn’t bother or upset them at the time.
In this day of deep divisions, I wonder if we all shouldn’t adopt Step 8 of the 12 Step program and make “a list of those we have harmed and be willing to make amends to them all.”
I will add that we should also adopt forgiveness. We should be willing to accept an olive branch when offered. That doesn’t mean all is forgotten or that we become best of friends. It only means we accept our own faults as well as the faults of others.
We will always have differences but this is a step toward bringing us a little closer together.