She Meant Well

I made a trip to the local drug store the other night around 8 PM.  It was the only time I left the house that day actually.  Every so often I find myself realizing suddenly that I have not left the house in days.  Working from home has this side effect.  Days just go by and you never leave the house.  Even taking the trash to the end of the driveway becomes an adventure.  Heck, even getting the mail brings excitement when you compare it to staying inside the walls of your house for 48 or 72 hours at a time.  Anyway, I did not mind making this trip as I had spent the entire previous 24 hours or so in the house.

The daughter was having some, some, well, gastrointestinal issues (or lack thereof) and this necessitated the late evening trip.  Armed with a general description from the wife of the brand of laxative I was to purchase (I also brought along the wife’s cell phone just in case [I do not have a cell phone]), I drove the 3 or so miles down State Road 26 and turned into the CVS parking lot.  Traffic was light both on the road and in the store and I headed to the back corner of the store and found the aisle with the Stomach –> Laxatives section.

Let me just say, “Wow!”  Who knew that so many companies focused on this particular problem that hits us all from time to time.  I knew almost immediately I was ill prepared for the task at hand.  I pulled out the wife’s cell phone and called for assistance.  I did my best to describe several of the brand names and labels or active ingredients.  There did not appear to be one specifically made for children (not even in the children’s aisle nearby that only contained children’s cold remedies).  I was forced then to read the fine print on the back to ensure that the dose was listed for children.  Then (of course) I had to consider the cost of the item.  Buying 50 vs 30 pills was not a wise decision as we would likely not use the entire container (we hope).

The entire time that I was on the phone (like from the second I hit the “send” button), an employee decided it was time to vacuum.  She started (2) aisles away but as the conversation with the wife carried on the vacuum came closer and closer until it was in my row.  I glanced in the general direction of the vacuumee to try to convey my annoyance level but she was in her own little vacuum world.  The call eventually ended, I made my selection (30 pills, $8) and headed to the cashier.

Now here is where the blog title comes into play.  Usually a cashier will make small talk with you.  When I worked as a cashier one summer at Lowe’s, I did the same thing.  After the obligatory inquiry as to whether or not I possessed a “card” (each store has to have some sort of reward card that gives you discounts) and my “no” answer (said not in a derogatory tone but in strong enough to pre-answer the necessary follow up question as to whether I would like to have a “card”) we proceeded to the business at hand.  She did not pay much attention to what it was that I was buying but was more interested in finding the bar code to scan.  After I swiped my debit card and punched all the OK’s, I was ready to head out the door.  It was then that she said something that I think she would not have said had she known I was buying a laxative and not some other item (like say, gum).  She told me to “have a good one”.

As a cashier, I am sure you develop a small repertoire of parting words.  You may only have one good one or maybe you have many.  My good friend worked as a gas station cashier for many years and he typically said “Have a good one.” to everyone as they left the store.  At a gas station the choices of items to purchase is limited and as such any normal departing phrase would work.  “Have a good one” though is not something you should tell a person who is buying a laxative.

After thinking about this for a while, I think a good idea for cashiers at drug stores would be for the cash register software to provide some sort of warning based on what is being scanned in for purchasing.  The screen that the cashier sees then could provide some sort of visual warning to stop the cashier from making inappropriate remarks.  I think this would alleviate any possible embarrassment for both parties.  I am still laughing at her comment days later.

Have a good one!

Jon

Do Not Know My Own Strength

I have taken a sabbatical from social networking (blogging, facebooking, etc) for a month or so now but I did want to relate something that happened to me yesterday.  I had just received notification that my W2 form was available so I thought I would plug those numbers into the online tax program that I use and see what was in store as far as a refund.  I don’t usually get excited about any refund amount as my life tends to even out quickly.  Any money gained is typically met with money lost (a bonus at work is met with a vehicle expense or a tax refund is met with our license and registration being due).  I seldom think about what we might spend additional money on until a moratorium has passed and I feel safe to fantasize about such things.  My life has always been this way so I am quite used to this mentality (the wife forgets at times though who she is married to and does get excited, when will she learn?).  Anyway, after I found my username and password from last year, I began the task of punching in the numbers.

I did not have my forms from my bank yet (showing mortgage and savings interest) so this would just be a preliminary number but one other piece of information I always forget to have handy are the car’s registrations as some portion of that fee is deductable.  It was for this reason that I braved the cold weather yesterday morning (it was around 5° F) and went outside to get these documents from the glove boxes of the cars.  I found the key fob for our Kia minivan and watched from the house as the lights blinked on the car after I unlocked the doors.  I did the same for the Buick and then headed out to the cold.  I walked around to the passenger side of the Kia and grabbed the handle and pulled…

…and the handle came off in my hand.  I did not think that I pulled overly hard but it broke off nonetheless.  After some silent muttering (or not so silent, I do not recall), I got into the glove box (via the driver’s side door, which I opened very gingerly) and retrieved the registration.  I could not find one for the Buick (par for the course) and so I headed back inside.

When you get to the part of your taxes when you are punching in the minor things like this, you already have an idea of the refund you will be getting.  I remembered (from just moments before heading outside) thinking to myself and wondering what would go wrong in my life that would cause this refund to be eaten up.  Who knew that I would have my answer so quickly?  We do have a bumper to bumper warranty on the Kia so the wife is holding out hope that this will not cost us anything (oh to have the faith of a child) but I know (based on years of experience) what the bill will come to (the approximate amount of my federal tax refund).  Oh well, such is my life.

Jon