Bags And Bags Of OCD

, , , , | Right | October 17, 2019

(I’m a cashier at a grocery store that also has baggers. It’s a busy weekend, so every lane has a line. My next customer is a woman who doesn’t have too many items.)

Customer: *to the bagger* “I’m sorry, but could you bag at a different lane? I have OCD, so I need things bagged is a very specific way after everything is scanned.”

(The bagger complies, and I assume she will just bag her own items. Since it is a small order, waiting to bag until the end won’t cause too much of a wait.)

Me: “All right, ma’am, your total is [amount].”

Customer: *organizing, but not bagging her items* “Okay, but first—” *hands me three of her items* “Could you please put these in five bags?”

Me: “Five?”

Customer: “Yes, I need every set of items in five bags, and the bananas on their own, but still in five bags.”

(I am wondering why she sent the bagger away if she’s not even bagging her own groceries, as she could have given him the same instructions so he could bag while I cash her out.)

Me: “All right, ma’am…” *starts bagging and putting the bags in the cart while noticing the growing line*

(One of the things we’re taught in training is to try to keep the fragile items near the top or in the child’s seat if it is empty; however, after I place her bananas there…)

Woman: “Oh, wait! I didn’t wipe that area down earlier; could you please put those bananas in different bags and put them in a different spot?”

(I take the fifth bag off and attempt to put another one on, but she insists that all five bags need to be replaced. After a decent amount of time has passed, I have bagged everything to her standards, but my supply of bags is low and the line has more than doubled in size.)

Woman: *finally getting ready to pay* “Sorry about that. I have OCD.”

Me: *trying to act cheerful* “That’s all right, ma’am. Again, your total is [amount].”

(She pays in cash, and her change is $2.00, but she insists on having the newest-looking bills I have. I have absolutely no new-looking $1 bills, so I get two from the very bottom of the stack since they are the flattest. She reluctantly accepts them, thankfully without a fuss, and finally leaves me to take care of the other customers. An hour or so after the rush finally dies down, a supervisor approaches me.)

Supervisor: “Hey, [My Name], what was up with that line? You’re usually faster than that.”

Me: “Sorry, I had this customer who needed everything quintupled bagged.”

Supervisor: “Was it a woman?”

Me: “Yes. She said she had OCD.”

Supervisor: “Okay, I know who you’re talking about. I’ve dealt with her before. I get that she has a condition, but if she knows about it then she could at least try to do something about it, like bringing her own washable bags or something, instead of wasting so many of ours.” 

(I completely agreed with him. Thankfully, that customer isn’t a regular, but still, you can only put so much blame on your mental conditions.)

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