Four Cents

These look good. As I gazed in the mirror while trying on a pair of blue jeans in one of the many dressing rooms in the men’s division of Kohl’s department store in North Canton, Ohio, on this autumn evening in 1996, something suddenly crossed my mind. I verified the price tag. Eighteen fifty. I should have enough … even with tax.
I changed back into the jeans I wore into the store. Waiting in one of the checkout lines, I pulled my wallet from my rear, right pocket and slid my $20 bill out. When it was my turn, I laid the jeans on the counter.
“Hi,” I said to the female employee behind it who looked to be in about her mid-40s.
“Hi,” she said in a solemn tone, face down.
Waiting for the woman, who looked to be in somewhat of a hurry, to ring up my purchase, I handed her the twenty.
“Twenty dollars and four cents,” she said.
Whoops.
“Uh, you know what?” I asked her rhetorically with half a smile. “I only have a twenty. I didn’t think it’d be more than $20.” There’s gotta be one of those penny things (for customers who are short a penny or two … or four in my case).
“It came to $20.04,” she said grimly.
“Oh … well … I don’t have any change, uh … .” C’mon, what the hell’s four cents?
“Don’t you have a checkbook?” she asked in a rather testy tone.
“Yeah … but … .”
“Well, you have enough in their to cover the jeans, don’t you?”
“Uh … no,” I said, hoping no one heard me and thinking maybe I was on Candid Camera.
This’ll do it. “My checkbook’s out in my car. … I suppose I could go out and get it … and write you a four-cent check,” I said with sarcasm oozing out of me. I couldn’t believe this was happening and was sure this little bluff would bring this dame to her senses.
The woman said nothing. She just sighed. She may as well have had a sign on her forehead that read, “Beware, I’m PMSing it today.”
So out to my car I went. As I walked out of the store, I was dumbfounded. I can’t believe this bitch is actually lettin’ me do this. … It’s fuckin’ rainin’!
After fetching my checkbook I sloshed back into the store, rainwater dripping from my head. I laid the checkbook on the counter and asked the woman, who by now looked so irritated with the matter that I honestly thought she was going to explode, for a pen. She handed me one, but not without an attitude.
“Thanks,” I uttered half under my breath in a tone intended to make the woman believe I thought I was burdening her by simply requesting a writing utensil. By now, there was a line behind me. Let’s just get this over with and get outta here. As I was about to write the amount of the check in the space that called for spelling the sum out, I looked up at the lady.
“Uh … I’ve never written a four-cent check before,” I chuckled. “I don’t know how to do it. … Do you?”
The woman – er, witch – offered a sigh that could be deciphered in one way and one way only: @%#$&*! Then, suddenly, I heard a soft, sweet voice from behind me. “Need four cents?”
I’d never been so happy to hear any three words my entire life. They’d come from a young woman waiting in line directly behind me.
“Yeah! … I appreciate it,” I said, happily accepting the young lady’s kind offer.
“Here you go,” I said to the female worker, handing her the pennies. “Hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”
Again, the sarcasm was simply gushing.
She took the money, placed the twenty and the four pennies in the register, bagged my pants, and virtually chucked them at me, nary a word … nor glance. She was sick of me. But guess what? I was fed up with her, too.
I waited for the nice girl who’d come to my rescue to complete her purchase. As we left the store together, I again acknowledged her kindness, and then glancing back at Ms. Bad Mood, uttered half under my breath, hoping she heard me, “She’s prob’ly just havin’ one of those days.”
Boy, do I hope it continues.

Moral of the story: Always carry change.

Since When Are Lifeless Objects Living Beings?

Knowledge. In some areas you have it, in others you don’t. I happen to know a great deal about sports trivia. One topic I know virtually nothing about, however, is jewelry. This was never more evident than one winter evening early in 1994 when I experienced one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.
Employed by a large company – Suarez Corporation in North Canton, Ohio – in which jewelry was one of its many products, my job was to sell it over the telephone to people across the country who’d purchased jewelry from the firm in the past. After a few weeks on the job, I wasn’t exactly burning the sales charts. In fact, I was probably at, or near, the bottom of the totem pole. I had yet to embarrass myself, though – at least until that one particular evening when I gave the expression “embarrassing moment” new meaning, turned it into an art form, brought it to a higher level.
As always, I received a stack of index cards when the shift began. Each card had the name of the customer and other pertinent information needed to make the call and attempt the sale, such as the patron’s phone number, address, and product(s) he or she last purchased. About an hour into the shift, I came to a card in which the name read, “Porter, James Barbara.” The last jewelry purchased by the Porters read, “Pin, Onyx Opal.” I dialed the number, and after a few rings a woman answered. “Hello?” she said.
My ensuing reply will forever be etched in my mind and quite likely in hers, too. “Is onyx or opal pin there?” I asked.
There was a brief pause, then a chuckle from the woman. Oh my God. I realized what I’d done. I’d misread the card and mistaken “Onyx” for the husband’s first name, “Opal” for the wife’s, and “Pin” for their last name! I’d asked Mrs. Porter if the pins they last purchased were home! How do I get outta this?
Rather than apologize and make a big to-do of the matter, I quickly interjected, “Is James or Barbara Porter there?”
“This is Barbara Porter,” the woman laughed, obviously on to my bewildering blunder. She didn’t buy. … Shocking, isn’t it?

Moral of the story: Don’t be ignorant.

Woman: *finished her transaction with two $20s*

Me: *counts out $13 in change twice with one $5 bill and eight $1s because I didn’t have any tens and only one $5. I did it twice to make certain I had the right amount and handed it to her with her watching.*

Woman: Do you know how I get that change?

Me: What?

Woman: do you know how I get that change?

Me: No?

Woman: *takes her money and starts counting* 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, and 40. You young people are so dependent on machines. You need to learn how to count change properly. Have a good day. *leaves*

(I’ve been helping an older couple around the store for a good forty minutes, taking them section to section for all the items they need.)

Me: Is there anything else I can help you find?
The Wife: Oh, no! You’ve been great… What’s your name?
The Husband: Well, it’s JoAnn of course! That’s a prerequisite for working here, right?
Me: *looks at the camera like I’m in The Office*

(I work in the box office of a dinner theater which has a set menu, so we have to ask each party about dietary restrictions.)

Me: “Are there any food allergies or does anyone need a vegetarian meal?”
Customer: “No, but we have a child who has cancer.”
Me: *completely speechless*
Coworker: “Just say that if they have any special needs, they should talk to their server.”
Me: *parrots line to the customer, still very much confused*
Customer: “No… I guess we’re ok.”