Another Shift, Another Performance

 October 1, 2015

Another Shift, Another Performance

As I was leaving today, I noticed something odd: cashier K’s “To Go” bag was hanging from the knob of a drawer at the cash stand, filled with nearly empty toilet paper rolls. She collects these, apparently, and must’ve forgotten to take her bag home when she left. Just one more quirky detail in a shift full of drama.

Roll the cameras—because today felt like a full-on performance.

K claimed complete control over the cash stand for the entire shift. I didn’t mind, really. I enjoy talking with guests, and that’s what I was doing until the retail manager redirected me to folding shirts. Funny thing—she placed the folding cart right up against a rack of clothes. If I’d stayed in that spot, my back would’ve been to the front door, completely cut off from greeting incoming guests. There were plenty of shirts to fold, which I didn’t mind—I like staying busy—but I also enjoy being able to interact with people. So I repositioned the cart to get a better view of the entrance.

Earlier, K had run me off from the cash stand. I can’t recall her exact words, but it was something like, “I got them,” as guests lined up to check out. It was clearly a directive: “Get out of here—I’m handling the register today.” So I went back to the floor, greeting guests and looking for ways to help until I was reassigned to folding shirts. At that point, the retail manager stepped in at the register, and it looked like K was no longer the solo star of the cash stand. The manager joined her, while I was tucked away with the folding cart.

Honestly, I didn’t mind leaving the register. Greeting guests is easier and more enjoyable. But I suspect next time, they’ll roll out a big stocking cart and expect me to greet guests while stocking items—an impossible three-way task. How do you bend, reach, and stock while also listening for the door and running to greet people? You’d have to be stationed close enough to hear the door open, stop mid-task, and sprint to deliver your greeting lines. It’s not practical.

When I left the cash stand at K’s direction, I said, “Okay, just call me if you need me up here.” A few minutes later, she radioed me: “Connie, you can come back up and help at the cash stand if you want to.” Then she immediately followed with, “No, I got it.” I hadn’t even made it halfway back before I turned around again. It was comical—like a game of musical chairs, except I’m always the one being moved.

Eventually, I looked up and saw a long line forming at the cash stand. The retail manager had taken over another register, and K must’ve been handling things solo for a while. Maybe she considered calling me again, maybe not. Either way, the two of them were busy cashing out guests for quite some time. It should all be on the store cameras.

Meanwhile, I stayed on the floor. Had I remained in the original cart position, I’d have had my back to the door and been too far away to hear guests enter. Thankfully, I moved the cart to a better spot—though it ended up blocking the narrow aisles. Several guests had to squeeze by and politely say, “Excuse me.” I always replied, “No problem, you’re fine.”

One senior guest tried on a beautiful red 1920s-style hat with a black bow. It suited her perfectly. I’m not sure if she bought it, but it was a lovely moment. There aren’t many mirrors in the store for guests to try on hats, and there really should be one permanently placed near the hat section.

Another guest approached and asked if there was a mirror nearby for a woman in a wheelchair to see how a hat looked on her. I quickly scanned the store and spotted the mirrors on the back wall near the inspirational items. The woman rolled toward me, and I helped her get a look. The hat looked stunning on her, and I complimented her choice. I don’t know if she bought it, but I’d wear it myself if I didn’t already have my crochet hats.

While those two were working hard at the registers, I was having a great time with the guests.

But here’s the thing: it’s always a game of dominance. Instead of working together to give guests a great experience and make as many sales as possible, it feels like a constant tug-of-war over control. That’s the real performance.