Checkout (6 page)

The conveyor belt: just another part of your till? Much more than that. It is your friend! It is the first contact with customers and can prove to be a formidable ally. It has a few tricks up its sleeve to take revenge on those who treat you badly.

With the customer in a hurry who keeps throwing you looks of exasperation (it’s your fault that the store is so busy) and who has emptied his trolley like he empties his bin, your conveyor belt (your friend) will jolt slightly. And splat, the box of eggs is on the floor and the bottle of wine falls and breaks and splashes his nice beige trousers. Hardly guaranteed to speed up the shopping process. And he’ll have to wait for the cleaning service to
do their job. Poor thing (if you must smile, at least be discreet).

With the customer on the phone who completely ignores you when you help him pick up his change, which has fallen on the floor (not even a thank you), your friend the conveyor belt will eat the bank card he forgot to pick up (too busy talking on the phone). Your customer will have to wait at least twenty minutes to get it back. Oh,
now
he wants to talk to you!

With the child who won’t stop crying all the time his mother queues (that’s nearly fifteen minutes), who sticks his tongue out at you and throws his chocolate biscuit in your face, the belt will trap his fingers. Well, he shouldn’t have tried to stop it. It’s not a toy. He’ll cry even more loudly now, but at least this time you know why he’s crying.

With the customer who takes his sweet time, who doesn’t care that the store closed ten minutes ago (do you recognise him?) and who loads his shopping on item by item, the conveyor belt will speed up, resulting in disagreeably loud screeching noises. The noise will still be ringing in his ears even once he’s returned home.

But with the really nice customer who says good morning with a big smile and arranges his items from heaviest to lightest with the bar codes facing the scanner (wow!), the conveyor belt will be touched and let out a 
sweet purr. And everything will run smoothly.

Sometimes, however, the conveyor belt will let you down entirely – whether the customer is nice or not. It will change sides and support the customer. It will advance without stopping and unload all the items like a dumper truck. Impossible to stop it because it will do it so zealously that your only recourse will be the emergency stop button (the big red button which only works every so often). The items will be damaged and so will you. And don’t forget that the customer will hold you entirely responsible (well, of course!). You can settle the score with these ungrateful conveyor belts at the end of the day with the bleach cleaner (every small victory counts) …

You might also come across one which, fed up with turning for years and years, will stop for ever with a long and final rattle. A heart-rending cry will indicate that your friend has left you, letting you down in front of a tidal wave of products and customers who think the belt has only malfunctioned. They will cry, ‘This always happens to me!’ and push their items along with their hand, grousing and shouting at you because, of course, you are responsible for their misfortune. The conveyor belt will remain immobile though. Immovable. Inert.

You think I’m exaggerating? Just wait. In the end, some days your solitude and powerlessness in the face of
disagreeable customers will be so great that the least relief, even a malfunctioning or capricious conveyor belt, will be welcome.

So, in the evening clean it with love and when you arrive in the morning give it a little pat. It will love you. And who knows, maybe one day it will eat a customer or the petulant section manager.

You will sometimes come across customers whose physique is the stuff of fantasy. And you will be surprised to find that you are imagining them naked, dreaming that you are massaging their feet (or possibly other parts of their anatomy). And then there will be others who you’d rather not think about but who will be generous enough to let you enjoy a glimpse of some very appetising parts of their body. They all have something in common: a terrible fear of being robbed, which makes them hide their cash somewhere warm about their person. Average age: any (there are paranoid people everywhere).

When the time comes to pay you will be lucky enough to get a close-up view of:

• Mrs Jones’s ample, flaccid bosom and her grey bra (it must have been white once) where she has hidden her banknotes. All accompanied by a puff of eau de cologne or sherry (difficult to tell).
  
• Mr Smith’s scrawny foot and holey sock where he hides his £50 notes. Drawback: an easily identifiable odour. Oh actually, maybe that’s from the smelly cheese he’s bought.
  
• Mr Thomas’s rounded stomach. His little arms always find it very difficult to reach underneath his jumper to his shirt where he has hidden his money. And you can smell that he didn’t have time to take a shower today (or yesterday apparently).
  
• You can’t see anything but you can hear Mrs Rogers: ‘Wait, I don’t have enough money, I’ll just nip to the loo.’ And when you see her a few minutes later, triumphant, with her notes in her hand you refrain from imagining anything. You are just happy to take the money from her fingertips.
  

Yes, yes, I know: you can’t be fussy about where your money comes from. Especially when you’re a checkout girl.

Paying for your shopping – an obligation that customers would avoid if they could. But, as you will have found out, customers make the checkout girl pay every day, each in their own way. Sometimes, you even start to ask yourself whether perhaps you are robbing the customers, given the black looks and insults they throw at you. So you might be surprised to learn that some actually fight to pay. Yes, you read that right. They fight.

The scene below actually happened.

I think this little story reveals a quirk in our society. Paying is apparently the only real proof of friendship between two best friends. And it's often the same in love … I pay therefore I am.

Don't hesitate to remind your customers of this. They'll pay up more easily, you'll see.

A child’s view of the world is full of insight, candour, poetry and tenderness … Your heart will leap when you hear this kind of thing:

All that is quite sweet and will make you smile. But when parents use you to scare their children, keep smiling (you have to) but you can put them right.

When you hear a mother tell her child, pointing her finger at you, ‘You see, darling, if you don’t work hard at school you’ll become a checkout girl like the lady,’ there’s nothing to stop you explaining that it’s not a profession for stupid people, that you’d rather do this than be unemployed and that you actually have a good degree. (Five years in higher education? Really?)

If you don’t, you may find that afterwards children don’t respect you or see you as a failure …

And I have news for all those self-righteous people: it’s been a long time since a degree guaranteed a dream job. Today’s graduates sometimes have no choice but to do less skilled work.

Dear parents, thank you for using us as the bogeyman to raise your children! But you need to update your ideas a bit.

People are always saying that:

• Little girls are just as intelligent as little boys (and even better at school and university).
  
• The records of female sporting champions are just as impressive as those of the men. And the queens of wrestling almost as well known as the kings.
  
• Women can be just as bossy, angry and rude as men.
  
• Boys are just as attractive, sensitive, courteous, frivolous and chatty as women.
  

And there’s no lack of proof. So why do we continue to put up with:

• Seeing ‘Checkout Girl Number’ written on your cash box every morning?
  
• The guys always (or almost always) being sent to the aisles to lift and organise merchandise instead of the girls?
  
• The term ‘checkout girl’ being used every day but never ‘checkout boy’?
  
• There being far more girls behind the tills than boys?
  
• Our society still being eminently sexist?
  

It is true though – and I’d forgotten this – that, probably to shut up chronic moaners like me, retail has invented a very sweet term, ‘checkout operator’. The debate is therefore closed and the problem solved, right?

I dream of the day when all checkout assistants, customers and managers are treated equally whatever their sex. We can all dream, can’t we?

There will come a time when you have to tell a customer, ‘It's closed.' And they will almost certainly reply, ‘But I've only got one item.'

The first few times you'll let yourself be convinced and scan their sandwich, electric drill or low-energy light bulbs. But very quickly you will learn to refuse politely (since there will always be others behind complaining that they too only have one item). Because, yes, even checkout girls have the right to take a break and relax for a few minutes.

So why is a break such a big deal? In your office if you want to leave your computer to go to the loo, have a coffee or chat for five minutes with a colleague, you don't need to ask permission. But you do on the till. It's like being back in primary school.

Want to say hello to a colleague in an aisle at the other end of the store? No, not possible during your working hours.

Need to nip to the loo? Have you asked permission?

Want a coffee? Have you begged for it?

Need a smoke? Has your request been accepted?

It's 1 p.m. and you're hungry but you've only worked half your six-hour shift. You need to ask before you can take your lunch break.

In retail (on the tills at any rate) that's how it works. You were hired to work on the till so you can't leave your post without permission. So whatever your request or the emergency, you have to make a telephone call …

Does it feel frustratingly as if you're being treated like a child (especially having to ask to go to the toilet!)? Get used to it.

And whether it's a little local shop or a big supermarket, the procedure for asking for the right to leave your till is the same. You will engage in this little question-and-answer game on the telephone:

‘Can I take my break?'

(Tick the relevant response.)

‘Yes.'

‘Someone will come and cover for you.'

‘We'll ring you back, too many people are on their breaks at the moment.'

‘Wait a little while, there's a rush on at the tills.'

Depending on the answer, your smile or grimace will reveal your state of mind.

And sometimes when they tell you, ‘We'll call you back,' they might actually forget. You ring back forty-five minutes later (because you support the right of the other girls on the tills to take their breaks) and the answer may well be once again, ‘We'll call you when you can take your break.' You'll be seething inside but won't be able to let that show in front of the customer who hasn't done anything wrong …

Another fake smile and off you go again.

There's another awkward moment for many checkout girls when they have to ask permission to go to the bathroom …

Imagine the scene: the store is packed and you have been squirming in your chair for two hours, improbably hoping that your need to go to the loo will disappear because you don't want to bother anyone. Unfortunately, the need remains and, after a while, you have to decide to ask to close your till while you relieve yourself. You pick up the phone and try to be discreet with regard to the customers who don't need to know that your bladder is full, all the while continuing to scan packs of loo roll and slices of ham.

After several attempts (the line is always engaged) someone finally answers.

‘Can I leave my till for a second?' Trying to talk quietly.

‘Why?' In an irritated tone that doesn't bode well.

‘I need to go to the toilet.'

‘Um, can you wait a bit?' (Choose the appropriate phrase.) ‘You can take a break in an hour.'/‘You only went a couple of hours ago.'/ ‘But you only started your shift an hour ago!'

‘But it's an emergency.'

‘… Ummm' (or another muttering noise) ‘someone will come and cover for you.'

(And in that case all you can do is hope that your replacement comes quickly!)

In some stores codes are put in place to allow you to make a request more discreetly on the telephone because being able to say ‘Code purple', ‘Can I have a 157', ‘The sun is shining' or ‘1945' is more cryptic.

Because really not everyone wants to hear ‘I need to go to the loo' … and you won't find customers' little smiles very amusing either.

It's complicated relieving your bladder when you're a checkout girl.

But let's get back to the subject of ‘breaks'. It's a good day today, you've asked to take your break and your request
has been granted. You'll even have time to go to the staff room!

But what's it like, this place where all the store's employees meet during the day? This room is the object of all the desires of the checkout girls, where they can leave their work and their customers just for a while. So is it nice?

Well, there are several kinds of staff room, ranging from kitchens (all the perks: table, chairs, fridge, fresh coffee, microwave) to dining rooms (no meals served though) with large tables and benches (narrow ones usually). Rustic, I grant you.

In big supermarkets, though, the room is designed differently. Here there is no fresh coffee for staff but an automatic coffee machine (not free obviously), machines with chocolate and sandwiches (they're not free either) and, if you're lucky, a water fountain (that's free, just cross your fingers that there are some plastic cups left). There are a few tables and chairs. But avoid taking your break at the same time as everyone else because seats are rare. As if everyone wanted to eat at the same time (how dare they!). And then there's the queue to heat up your food in the only microwave (it's a luxury if there are two).

It's a convivial room where the only decoration is an information board (messages from Health and Safety, the management, the union, adverts, etc.). In a corner are a
few magazines to browse through, the same ones as six months ago.

But it would appear that it's not the same for everyone. I have been told (I would have loved to see it) that in other big supermarkets there are armchairs and a television (still no decorations though and the paint is peeling).

But apart from having a coffee and eating a sandwich, what happens in this room? That's easy, people chat! About everything and nothing, working conditions, relations with other employees and the bosses. Basically, it is a place to exchange information and set the world to rights. But look right and left first to check that there isn't a boss in sight or a manager who might overhear. You want to moan about people but you don't necessarily want the people involved to hear you … anyway, it all happens very quickly because with only three minutes' break for every hour worked (in some companies the break is longer: four minutes per hour!), you don't really have the time to talk for hours.

Let me set the scene (stopwatches at the ready).

Six hours' work? Lucky you, you get eighteen minutes' break.

You clock off, go to the locker room to get some change to pay for your coffee/sandwich/bar of chocolate: two minutes gone (the corridors are long and you have to go upstairs).

You go to the bathroom and wash your hands: three minutes.

You go to the staff room: one minute.

Already six minutes gone; you've got twelve minutes left.

To save time you have got used to staggering your eating time with your break or eating cold food to avoid waiting until the microwave is free (so you save two to five minutes), which means you have a good ten minutes to enjoy your break.

Once you're settled, you flick through an old magazine which has been lying on a table for a few weeks. You are beginning to know the articles by heart.

A colleague arrives.

The discussion begins, you talk about working hours, break times which are too short, your last customers (‘Can you believe it? He changed the label of the chrome coffee machine but he's a bit stupid. It's obviously worth more than £3!'). You talk about your families too, your holidays (‘Is the boss going to grant me my week's leave?'), plans for evenings out and the lack of time you have to spend with your children …

One eye is still on the clock. People laugh. Another colleague arrives and already your eighteen minutes have almost run out. Your coffee has been swallowed quickly (did it burn? Too bad, you don't have time for small sips!),
the last mouthful of sandwich is stuffed down and you have to go and clock on again quickly if you don't want to go over your break time (and be scolded by the boss). You've one minute left (barely time to go downstairs) before the end of your break.

You leave your colleagues and rush off. Your stomach is a bit heavy, you clock in and return to your till and customers are already following you, ready to jump on you as soon as the till opens.

Three minutes for every hour worked. It's a good way to learn how to manage your time and make the most of every minute. A checkout girl must be organised!