I was back in Country Mart on Thursday, and picked up The Pony's wine, and Farmer H's Wild Turkey. The problem with the registers seems to have been resolved. I put the liquor bottles on the conveyor with my groceries and Pony/Farmer H snacks, and they scanned like normal.
I had a different checker again. It's a tall guy who might or might not be on the spectrum. He gets the job done, but is a little slow, and makes some odd remarks at times. He's a nice guy. I saw him one day while I was waiting at the deli counter. He was putting on a backpack, and talking to the deli worker. Said he was clocked out, and headed to his OTHER job. Which was working in the kitchen at the sports bar next to the Liquor Store down the street. A guy who works two jobs is a stand-up guy.
It didn't dawn on me until the next day that I should check my receipt and see how old HE thought I was! Lucky for me, it was twisted up in my purse (I twist the receipts I've already recorded in my checkbook register).
33!!!
Heh, heh! Not a patronizing 21, not an overestimated 65, but a nice middle-aged inoffensive age in order to ring up my two bottles of alcohol.
This guy should get Employee of the Month.
6 comments:
33 is a nice age, I remember being there. My youngest was almost school age.
River,
Yes, 33 was good. I remember my knees working like normal back then. I was walking the 11-mile blacktop bicycle trail through the state park every couple of months. Walking to the 2-mile point and back several times a week.
HM--33? That is wonderful. In those days, every body part of mine was where it was supposed to be.
Thirty years PAST that age? I feel like I'm a living and breathing Picasso portrait.
Sioux,
Heh, heh! Picasso! You are positively BREATHTAKING!
I wouldn't mind being 33 again, so many things would be done differently, hindsight and all that. Smart cashier.
Kathy,
Yes, a smart cashier. I need to get a stick and some poster board, and picket out front to have him declared Employee of the Month.
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