Convenience Store Clerk
From travel centers and truck stops to Pakistani owned quickie marts, clerks have become customer service icons.
If you haven't seen the old black and white flick featuring Dante and Randal, make that your first order of entertainment if you've chosen the c-store industry as your first gig.
Like me, I'm assuming you've landed in a normal run-of-the-mill gas station. You know the ones. Maybe ten fuel pumps, a hot dog roller, snacks, cigarettes, ice, lottery, and of course, the coldest beer in town.
It really doesn't matter what type of convenient store you work at, there will always be the possibility of getting murdered for seventy dollars and twenty-two cents. That's the thing about convenient stores, they're also very convenient to rob.
Assuming you survive employment beyond the overnight shift, perhaps neatly tucked away within one of those bulletproof glass enclosures (keep a urinal on hand), you'll still have to rise to every customer's expectation of a thirty-second transaction.
Everyone who comes into the gas station is either late for something or has all the time in the world. There is nothing more irritating than being short on time, so short fuses and long lines amount to the totality of c-store life.
When people are irritated, fingers start pointing. As the attendant, you will be a finger magnet; and not always the index or the pinky. Naturally, everything will be your fault. Personally, the most degrading thing I have ever been called, while working at a service station, was something along the lines of a downright horrible person.
When people are irritated, fingers start pointing. As the attendant, you will be a finger magnet; and not always the index or the pinky. Naturally, everything will be your fault. Personally, the most degrading thing I have ever been called, while working at a service station, was something along the lines of a downright horrible person.
"It ain't right," the customer said, with tears welling up in his eyes.
He genuinely thought I had something to do with how much his two dollars and fifty cents paid for, when it came to gasoline.
"I just pumped two dollars and fifty cents into my car, but the pump only gave me a dollar worth of gas," he says, lips trembling. "It just ain't right."
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I was ready to close up any minute, but he demanded the owner come out and do a manual calibration, even though the inspection sticker was less than a month old. Needless to say, he was huffing and puffing the whole time my boss was en route. The owner was pissed, too. We were all pissed. That's the tendency when someone creates much ado about nothing.
Anytime you have a needy customer at the counter, just expect someone to be yelling at you from the pump at the same time.
"Turn on the damn pump!" Their arms will be out stretched in the universal sign of WTF.
With an inability to abandon your register, you will calmly ask the customer at the back of the line, who already looks annoyed, to poke his head out the door and inform the irate pedestrian to press the START button on the dispenser. Remember to apologize. It's always your fault.
The 'give a penny, take a penny' tray is your friend. Which disappoints by never covering the shortage you're gonna end up with if you don't cushion your drawer with a manual transaction. About one in a hundred people will ever say keep the change, while one in ten people will be short a dime or nickel and give you that begrudging look like you shouldn't make a big deal about it. It's only a penny, after all.
If you're a smoker, don't admit it. For everyone who asks the poor clerk for spare change another asks him for a cigarette.
If you're in an urban area, you will get to know at least three homeless people by name. It will become second nature to shoo them off after multiple complaints of them pan handling in the parking lot. Also, it's very likely, the ambulance will be called out to your location on their account, when they never emerge from the restroom after self-administering some illegal narcotic.
For that reason, we clerks become accustomed to locking the restrooms and attaching some ridiculous item to the key so that no one runs off with it. The store owner once attached a dildo to the women's key, and we all got a kick out of watching everyone try their best not to touch the thing. Then, after only a week, the thing disappeared in the pockets of some needy customer after spending an unusually long time alone with it.
An accumulation of religious material will frequent your behind-the-counter trash bin, as everyone who's recently found Jesus will find you a listening ear. Nothing better than a face that's paid to be pleasant when it comes to peddling bullshit. Also, you'll be at every salesmen's beck and call.
You want to put at least ten empty cartons of cigarettes, on the counter nearest the door. That way would-be-thieves get those when they attempt a grab-and-go. Nothing better than watching a man flee with an armful of empty cardboard.
While you stock the cooler, you will witness all sorts of thievery. Between the shelves of twenty ounce sodas, a clerk can spy on customers while they fill their pant legs with as many Slim Jims and single serve medications they desire. Most will fess up when you ask them about their extra merchandise during check-out. It's always curious when a man with bulging parachute pants buys a single pack of double mint gum.
Whatever you do, follow your company guidelines on racism and prejudice. We won't assume you have the ability to pick out the one's who are going to run off without paying for their gas. Instead, you will approve the pump of the beat up Geo metro, that's missing a license plate, and won't realize that he's gone until the bÅtard, who's scratching endless numbers of lottery tickets, leaves you alone long enough to notice an empty fuel island. The little bastard in the metro just laid the pump handle on the ground and took off. At least he could only fit twenty-two dollars in that POS.
If you think the feeling of a Geo running off with twenty bucks is bad, imagine the feeling you get when a Ford F-450 fills up both tanks and then pulls his truck up to an empty parking spot. You'll look up from your busy register and there will be an empty gas pump with a five-hundred dollar tab. You'll try to stay calm whilst forty Mexicans pay for every hot dog, chicharrone, and souvenir ball cap on the shelf with muddy wads of cash from their blue jeans. Frantic to find the customer who has just pumped two weeks of your pay, you will systematically ask every last agricultural worker if they had 'gasolina'. In return, they will each smile and nod while pointing absently to their pile of over-priced merch on the counter.
"So, is that or a yes or a no?"
When the cowboy, who is hauling the migrant workers around, finally owns up to the bill, you will breathe a huge sigh of relief. Now, gladly get him his ten cans of Copenhagen snuff.
But, it's not always busy. You'll run out of fuel, on occasion, and those days can be the most relaxing. Put a cone in front of each pump, and a yellow bag over the handles that says, out of order, and then just kick your feet up behind the counter and read your way to an easy payday. But, don't get too comfortable, you still have a cooler to stock, and before long at least one special dumb ass will pull up, move the cone aside, and stick the handle of the pump in their gas tank. After a few moments of heated frustration, they will enter the store and ask what the problem is, and you will have to point out that the handle they have sticking out of their car says out of order, and the cone they moved was there for a reason.
"Well, what am I suppose to do?" they'll ask.
A gentle reminder to keep enough gas in their car to begin with and move along to the next filling station is probably out of line.
Take it from me, as someone who has personally chased down customer's who've run off with gas, been held at gun point after store hours, and survived more than my share of unprotected night shifts, the money in the register isn't yours, and neither is the merchandise. Report theft, jot down drive-offs, and serve up service with a smile.
Convenience store work is an invaluable experience for anyone who wants to enter the customer service workforce.
And hey, you'll have a few laughs while you're at it.
-Jay M Horne
Jay Horne is an author and publisher out of Bradenton, Florida who has shared a genuine interest in philosophy and writing since early childhood. He is a husband and father of four. Jay enjoys writing fiction, humor, horror, and teen & young adult.
View all of his professional and philosophical works of literature on his Amazon author page where you will find blogs, videos, and free excerpts:
Jay M Horne
"Turn on the damn pump!" Their arms will be out stretched in the universal sign of WTF.
With an inability to abandon your register, you will calmly ask the customer at the back of the line, who already looks annoyed, to poke his head out the door and inform the irate pedestrian to press the START button on the dispenser. Remember to apologize. It's always your fault.
The 'give a penny, take a penny' tray is your friend. Which disappoints by never covering the shortage you're gonna end up with if you don't cushion your drawer with a manual transaction. About one in a hundred people will ever say keep the change, while one in ten people will be short a dime or nickel and give you that begrudging look like you shouldn't make a big deal about it. It's only a penny, after all.
If you're a smoker, don't admit it. For everyone who asks the poor clerk for spare change another asks him for a cigarette.
If you're in an urban area, you will get to know at least three homeless people by name. It will become second nature to shoo them off after multiple complaints of them pan handling in the parking lot. Also, it's very likely, the ambulance will be called out to your location on their account, when they never emerge from the restroom after self-administering some illegal narcotic.
For that reason, we clerks become accustomed to locking the restrooms and attaching some ridiculous item to the key so that no one runs off with it. The store owner once attached a dildo to the women's key, and we all got a kick out of watching everyone try their best not to touch the thing. Then, after only a week, the thing disappeared in the pockets of some needy customer after spending an unusually long time alone with it.
You'll have to rise to every customer's expectation of a thirty second transaction.
An accumulation of religious material will frequent your behind-the-counter trash bin, as everyone who's recently found Jesus will find you a listening ear. Nothing better than a face that's paid to be pleasant when it comes to peddling bullshit. Also, you'll be at every salesmen's beck and call.
You want to put at least ten empty cartons of cigarettes, on the counter nearest the door. That way would-be-thieves get those when they attempt a grab-and-go. Nothing better than watching a man flee with an armful of empty cardboard.
While you stock the cooler, you will witness all sorts of thievery. Between the shelves of twenty ounce sodas, a clerk can spy on customers while they fill their pant legs with as many Slim Jims and single serve medications they desire. Most will fess up when you ask them about their extra merchandise during check-out. It's always curious when a man with bulging parachute pants buys a single pack of double mint gum.
Whatever you do, follow your company guidelines on racism and prejudice. We won't assume you have the ability to pick out the one's who are going to run off without paying for their gas. Instead, you will approve the pump of the beat up Geo metro, that's missing a license plate, and won't realize that he's gone until the bÅtard, who's scratching endless numbers of lottery tickets, leaves you alone long enough to notice an empty fuel island. The little bastard in the metro just laid the pump handle on the ground and took off. At least he could only fit twenty-two dollars in that POS.
If you think the feeling of a Geo running off with twenty bucks is bad, imagine the feeling you get when a Ford F-450 fills up both tanks and then pulls his truck up to an empty parking spot. You'll look up from your busy register and there will be an empty gas pump with a five-hundred dollar tab. You'll try to stay calm whilst forty Mexicans pay for every hot dog, chicharrone, and souvenir ball cap on the shelf with muddy wads of cash from their blue jeans. Frantic to find the customer who has just pumped two weeks of your pay, you will systematically ask every last agricultural worker if they had 'gasolina'. In return, they will each smile and nod while pointing absently to their pile of over-priced merch on the counter.
"So, is that or a yes or a no?"
When the cowboy, who is hauling the migrant workers around, finally owns up to the bill, you will breathe a huge sigh of relief. Now, gladly get him his ten cans of Copenhagen snuff.
But, it's not always busy. You'll run out of fuel, on occasion, and those days can be the most relaxing. Put a cone in front of each pump, and a yellow bag over the handles that says, out of order, and then just kick your feet up behind the counter and read your way to an easy payday. But, don't get too comfortable, you still have a cooler to stock, and before long at least one special dumb ass will pull up, move the cone aside, and stick the handle of the pump in their gas tank. After a few moments of heated frustration, they will enter the store and ask what the problem is, and you will have to point out that the handle they have sticking out of their car says out of order, and the cone they moved was there for a reason.
"Well, what am I suppose to do?" they'll ask.
A gentle reminder to keep enough gas in their car to begin with and move along to the next filling station is probably out of line.
Take it from me, as someone who has personally chased down customer's who've run off with gas, been held at gun point after store hours, and survived more than my share of unprotected night shifts, the money in the register isn't yours, and neither is the merchandise. Report theft, jot down drive-offs, and serve up service with a smile.
Convenience store work is an invaluable experience for anyone who wants to enter the customer service workforce.
And hey, you'll have a few laughs while you're at it.
-Jay M Horne
Jay Horne is an author and publisher out of Bradenton, Florida who has shared a genuine interest in philosophy and writing since early childhood. He is a husband and father of four. Jay enjoys writing fiction, humor, horror, and teen & young adult.
View all of his professional and philosophical works of literature on his Amazon author page where you will find blogs, videos, and free excerpts:
Jay M Horne
Comments
Post a Comment