*sigh*
A day in the life of a lowly cashier.
In a nutshell, I have been having some personal problems, isolating, not wanting to leave my condo for any reason, and keeping to myself so much that my own thoughts begin to create havoc to the point of wanting to die.
Brief history: It started in 2003 when my only son died in car accident, then we lost our 3 year old grandson to adoption, then my daughter in law left the country, then my 20 year marriage ended, then my entire family fragmented because I finally brought sexual abuse charges against my stepfather (I'm 'out' of my mother's family now), then my biological father got lung cancer and I had to quit my human resource management job and tend to him and his affairs and subsequent death because my siblings would have nothing to do with him. There's more crap in there, but the above lets you know life has been a tad challenging of late.
Prior to 2003 I owned a successful personnel agency, had a nice home and living with my husband in the 'burbs, plenty of friends and family and support.
Now it is all gone. My earlier posts talk a lot about the medical community and the asinine process they have for 'fixing' broken people.
Okay, flash forward to 5 weeks ago. To get out of the condo I needed a job. A quick job not for the money, but to force me to get out of the condo. I know I need some serious help with my self-esteem before I can take back my career in HR Management, or Career Counselling. I began therapy...and as of next week will be in a six week residential treatment program to face the demons of my past, to hopefully save myself from jumping out of my 8 floor condo window.
And I was fortunate to be hired by a local grocery, at $10.00 per hour. I told them I just needed a temporary position until I am ready to return to my usual occupation (my resume was a little overqualified so I had to tell them something). I said they could count on me to show up, to work any hours they needed, and to be a great customer service cashier. I said I would not be working for them for much more than a couple of months. They were desperate for dependable help, and I was desperate for a place to go.
They hired me and I must say my plan worked fantastically. I get myself fixed up and go out almost every day now. I love the customers and staff. Oh sure, I've bitched a bit about some parenting I see going on in the store, and a couple of freak customers and staff who work at the store, but by and by, this experience has been nothing but positive for me. It was the perfect answer to a lead up to the treatment center I am going to go to next week.
Last week I gave my two weeks’ notice (other gals seem to quit on the spot, and I didn't want to do that to them). I could not really tell them the truth about my wanting to die and needing intensive treatment all that, so I said I had to quit after only working about 7 weeks to have surgery.
So now management and staff know I am leaving next week. One of the 'bigger bosses' filled up the schedule for me to work evenings until the very last day, with my acceptance.
There has been a guy...a supervisor of sorts (the staff calls him a manager...I just don't see much managing and haven't gotten involved in everyone's role)...anyway, he's been a little irritant to me. Last week a customer was putting her change away and talking to me a mile a minute (I listened, but continued to work the till as she talked) when super supervisor came up to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and make hand motions like...keep it rolling...stop the conversation...
It was a bit weird...the customer and I looked at each other and made eye contact like "what the hell is wrong with him?" She left.
Another strange quirk about this 'manager' was when the gals till out we need to leave $200.00 in a till for the next person. This guy insists on recounting the tills because (quote) "you girls don't know how to count." Funny, many times when I come on shift and I count my till before I start it is over or under $20.00 or so...after HIS recount.
Never mind. No biggie. I won't be there long and so I am very cordial with the boy (he is very young). Pardon my sneer. I am pretty upset right now.
Yesterday morning I woke up with a raging bladder infection. I felt kinda 'off' all week, but ignored the symptoms until yesterday when I could hardly move. Before my shift was to start I stopped off at the medical clinic to get an antibiotic. The doctor on call said my white blood count was the highest he had ever seen in a sample, and that there was blood as well. He said I would also need an ultrasound as he suspects something else is going on he wants to check out.
I dropped the prescription off at the drugstore next to my work, and then realized I didn't bring my bank card so wouldn't be able to pay for it! I called a friend and asked him to pick it up for me after he got off work at 5:00 and bring it to me at the store.
Meanwhile, almost as soon as I started my shift I felt the fever come on. I was burning up! I felt like I was going to pass out, and a couple of times a customer would ask if I was all right, as I was white as a ghost. Oh God when will that prescription get here!!! I was doing the best I could, and the pain involved in a bladder is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy!
Finally 5 o’clock comes and there is my friend...right on time. My till is lined up with afternoon / after work people and I don't want to take pills in front of the crowd, so I PA for the 'manager' to come take my till for 30 seconds. He came; I said I would be right back. As I walked away I felt something...like a knife in my back or something, by this guy. I left to swallow the medication in privacy.
When I got back he was still processing the same customer I left. That's how long I was gone. Less than 30 seconds.
Soon things died down. My pain or fever didn't instantly go away, but I knew the medication was in me so I would be able to complete the shift. It got less busy, most of the staff went home, and it was me, another young gal, and the 'manager.'
Soon it was dead. I had no customer at my till for the first time in hours. I noticed over in the corner a woman taking pictures of weird things...like our front door. She didn't belong there, so I just watched for a moment.
Suddenly, a hand was in front of my face...and fingers snapping...like "WAKE UP!!!" The young manager thought I was daydreaming.
Oh, this time I couldn't help myself, I said, with a very irritated tone, "Hey, don't do that...that is so freaking RUDE!"
He walked away.
The rest of the night was hell. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, had to keep myself busy every second, while manager man and his girlfriend (the other cashier) where giving each other massages, conversing...enjoying the quiet of the night. I did the night clean part of the job and thought I would literally die if I had to walk one more step (walking from one end of the store to the other was aggravating the bladder infection). The fever didn't break yet, and overall, I felt like crap.
End of the night I go to count down to a $200.00 till for the next person tomorrow, and, having good experience with the yahoo and his need to double count, I always make sure mine is bang on. Suddenly, he was in the office and dramatically recounting my till as I stood and watched. His girlfriend arrived with her till, and he made a loud negative motion like, "what the fuck! You are way off in your till...I already have counted $260.00!!!!"
Um. No.
I just let him have his moment counting with his girlfriend now helping him...and walked out of the store.
Should I go back to work today?
This is only one guy out of the whole store. He is not working tonight...but God knows what he is saying about me today. I don't need $10.00 an hour, I spend more than what I make in a shift at the salon.
I don't like to let people down, if I don't show up...someone else is going to pay. Should I tell Dennis, the owner, or Jim, the senior manager, my experience?
Or should I just shut the hell up and live out my time until I leave on Wednesday? Why make things all negative, and risk making myself look bad before I go? I hate burning bridges (what if I need this job when I get out of treatment?).
I probably won’t get any answers from you before I leave for my shift. I am nauseous, weak, still feeling the infection and generally apprehensive and stressed right out...but, knowing me, I’ll go to work like the good girl I’ve always been.
*sigh*
