Economies Of Fail

I work as a cashier at a big-name grocery chain, and usually the job is just mindlessly scanning barcodes and asking if people have a loyalty card.

But every Tuesday around 4 PM, the Negotiator shows up, and my heart just sinks.

He always brings a single carton of organic milk and maybe a loaf of bread to my lane, and instead of paying, he starts a full-on debate about the price. He is absolutely convinced that the digital price tags on our shelves are just a “starting point for a healthy dialogue” between the merchant and the customer.

Last week, it was raining pretty hard outside, and he leaned over the counter with this conspiratorial look on his face. He pointed at the milk, which was clearly marked four dollars and ninety-nine cents.

Negotiator: “Look at that weather out there. Nobody is coming in today. Your inventory is just sitting here, losing value by the minute. I will give you three dollars for the milk, and we can call it a rainy-day discount.”

I tried to explain for the hundredth time:

Me: “I literally do not have a button on my register that says ‘Rainy-Day Discount.’ I just work here for ten bucks an hour.”

He didn’t care and just kept talking about the laws of supply and demand like he was a professor of economics.

The worst part is the line that starts forming behind him. People are just trying to get home with their groceries, and they have to listen to this man explain why the humidity levels should affect the price of sourdough bread.

He once tried to offer me a “bundle deal.”

Negotiator: “If I buy two bags of chips, you should give me the dip for free because they are complementary goods.”

My manager usually has to come over.

Manager: “You need to pay the full price or leave.”

The Negotiator just smiles.

Negotiator: “I’ll let you think on my offer until next week.”

It adds ten minutes of pure stress to my shift every single time, and I honestly think he enjoys the performance more than the actual three cents he thinks he might save.