Many years ago, I heard through a friend that a new supermarket was opening in the area, and they were hiring people to put the store together and get it ready to open. I was between jobs at the time, and a bit of a cash influx while I searched for something I wanted wouldn’t be a bad thing, so I applied.

And that was it. I didn’t hear back, shrugged, and moved on with my life.

Until three weeks later, when my phone rang.

I didn’t recognize the number, but when I had applications out, I answered every call. It went something like this:

Me: “Hello?”

Manager: “Hello, is this [My Name]?”

Me: “You got him. What can I do for you?”

Manager: “Well, this is [Manager] from [Business], and I’m calling to let you know that, since you no-called, no-showed on the first day, we are letting you go.”

Me: “Well, that’s understandable, but I don’t work for you, sir.”

Manager: “I’m sorry, what?”

Me: “I did send in an application several weeks ago, but this is the first conversation I’m having with anyone from [Business].”

There’s a short pause.

Manager: “…Well, I’m sorry about that. Would you still be interested in the job?”

Me: “I appreciate the interest, sir, but I am going to have to decline.”

It was just goodbyes after that. So, that’s the time I got fired from a place that didn’t hire me.

It might be worth mentioning that this same chain (but a different location) did kind of the opposite to me last year, too. I applied to work there; they interviewed me, offered me the job, and paid for my license to work in the state… Then, that was the last I heard from them.

I got a much better job offer about two weeks after their last contact, though, so I just let it go.

I worked Produce for twelve years. One year we had an insane deal on corn, and I mean INSANE (I think there was an oversupply or someone massively overordered).

We anticipated a massive rush on corn, which there was, so that morning my sole job was to build a corn display that was attention-getting.

I got a watermelon bin, dummied it up so the bottom layer started about four inches below the lip, and started stacking corn. A full case of corn only did about half the dummied bin: one layer. 

I used a hundred cases on that display. It was five feet tall of corn.

A massive banner hanging over it. A scarecrow sitting next to it with a large sign with arrows pointing at the display.

To get to the Produce department itself, you had to WALK PAST THE DISPLAY, which this customer did, and said to me:

Customer: “Hey, where’s the corn?”

Our store has a new checkout manager who transferred from another store. They’re talking near to me, one of the cashiers.

It should be noted that this person has transferred as a promotion, so it’s their first time as a checkout manager, and the store they transferred from was smaller and quieter.

Checkout Manager: “So I was wondering, it’s a quieter time in the day, but you still have three fully manned checkout lanes. Why?”

Manager: “You know that saying that goes something like, ‘A city is only ever three hot meals away from anarchy’?”

Checkout Manager: “Yeah.”

Manager: “A calm checkout line is only ever one expired coupon away from the same result.”

Checkout Manager: “…oh.”

Manager: “Give it time.”

About an hour later, my customer starts screaming:

Customer: “Why did that scan full price?! It should be on sale! WHY IS IT FULL PRICE!”

I sigh and call the checkout manager over. My customer is stubborn and refuses to believe that she picked up the wrong item and that “it must be on sale because it’s the one that I want!” As a result, I advise the other customers in my lane to transfer to the other two lanes or use the self-checkout, which they all do with a sigh.

It takes five minutes to convince the customer that they picked out the wrong item (an age in checkout lane time), and my lane resumes. Five minutes later, from a customer in the checkout lane across from me:

Other Customer: “I know my coupon expired, but I should still be able to use it! Call a manager!”

Checkout Manager: *Sighs as she walks over.* “Move to the city, they said. You’ll love the vibrancy, they said…”

We wear name tags while at work.

Customer: “Keesha?! What kind of name is that?!”

Me: “That’s more like a nickname.”

Customer: “It’s a bit… urban, for a pasty White girl like you, isn’t it?”

I pull out my original name tag that has my full legal name on it, which I keep in my pocket.

Me: “Well, actually my name is Caoimhseach.” *Pronounced ‘Kweev-sha’.* “But too many people thought that traditional Irish name didn’t suit a pasty White girl like me either, so here we are.”

Customer: *Walking away, glaring.* “Stupid made-up names…”

Aren’t all names made up?

Related:
Saoirse Ain’t Got Nothing On This

I was standing in line at a major supermarket. Directly ahead of me was a woman with a little girl who looked about four. In front of them was a young mother with a boy of about three.

The boy pointed toward the display of sweets (candies).

Boy: “Can I have a chocolate bar?”

Mother: “No.”

A few moments later:

Boy: “Can I have a chocolate bar?”

Mother: “No.”

The boy promptly threw himself onto the floor and began screaming and crying.

Boy: “You’re a stupid-head!”

His mother calmly leaned over and whispered something to the woman behind her. The two mothers smiled while the boy continued his full-scale tantrum. Then, his mother took a chocolate bar from the shelf and placed it in her cart, and the boy immediately stopped crying.

The mother paid for her shopping, then turned around and handed the chocolate bar to the well-behaved little girl behind them. She looked directly at her son.

Mother: “Children who behave are rewarded, and children who throw tantrums and embarrass their mothers get nothing.”

She turned on her heel and walked away. The boy followed in stunned silence, with his jaw practically on the floor.