Bread Pudding and Cash Trays: A Nostalgic Glimpse into My Retail Roots

There’s a certain kind of comfort that lives in memory—a place, a smell, a rhythm of work that felt just right. I remember the good old days of a job I used to visit, not as an employee at first, but as someone drawn in by the delicious food and the warm, caring atmosphere. It became my weekend refuge while I worked another job, especially on those particularly stressful days when I needed a reset. Their bread pudding was my go-to comfort dish—rich, warm, and now, sadly, no longer on the menu.

When I eventually left my long-term job—a place filled with both wonderful and challenging moments—I found myself still drawn to retail work. One store in particular stood out to me. It felt old-fashioned in the best way, like something out of Little House on the Prairie. I dreamed of being a cashier there, and that dream wasn’t new. My first experience with a cash tray was at age 14, working on an A&W truck that drove routes around my hometown. After that, I transitioned to office jobs, but the pull toward retail never quite left me.

Back then, the store was a great place to work. The cashiers and retail workers operated as separate teams, each with their own rhythm and responsibilities. There were always three cashiers scheduled—day and night—and I was the night shift closer. In the final hours before closing, it was often just me, unless the night was busy enough to keep all of us on deck. And when it was busy, the place buzzed with life.

The retail workers on the floor were incredibly professional. They were always available when needed, though I don’t quite remember how we summoned them—if we even did. We didn’t have radios in our ears back then. Somehow, it just worked. There were always at least two retail workers on the floor, helping shoppers and only coming to the cashier stand when it was time to ring someone up. They handled stocking and every aspect of the shop with quiet efficiency, and we cashiers matched that dedication. We worked six-hour shifts, five days a week—30 hours total—which was considered full-time for that business.

There were never any arguments. Just a shared sense of purpose, a rhythm that made the work feel meaningful. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was good. And sometimes, good is more than enough.

Over time, however, the business slowed down. It became necessary to combine retail and cashier roles, which in many ways helped pass the time during quieter shifts. Fewer customers meant fewer transactions and fewer interactions on the floor. And as we look ahead, who knows what AI will bring to this place in terms of automation and efficiency?

But one thing’s for sure: it will be hard to replicate the good old-fashioned hospitality that once defined these stores. That was the main ingredient—the human warmth, the unspoken teamwork, the quiet pride in doing things well. And no matter how advanced technology becomes, that kind of spirit is hard to code.