The Informant

It’s been one of those days, by which I mean that I came home after my 8.5 hour shift and decided that Cheeze-Its and white wine would be good enough for dinner. Mind you, I don’t drink my wine straight— I dilute it with organic raspberry lemonade to keep myself from developing an unhealthy dependency upon alcohol—but still: working retail is not supposed to be this stressful.

I blame my promotion to Front End Specialist. Like all good promotions, it comes with an increase in responsibility but not in pay. When I broached the subject with Head Boss, she told me that once I learned the cash office, I would get a raise (a whopping 2%).

“Learning the Cash Office” has been quite the ordeal. It requires waking up at 6:00am and transforming oneself into a Nazi informant. There are also some major calculations, deposits and safe counts involved but the bulk of the work comes down to reviewing paperwork and trying to catch my co-workers In the Act.

“In the Act” refers to any number of sins committed by overworked and undertrained Sales Associates. The possibilities are endless.  Cashier A, for example, didn’t get a manager to sign her Price Override. Cashier B forgot to adjust the tax for an out-of-state return. Cashier C, a regular offender, accepted two coupons from the same customer. Her days are numbered.

In my early days of “Learning the Cash Office,” I kept myself entertained by pretending I was one of those sexy investigator types from CSI or Criminal Minds. But then I remembered that the CSI girls spend their days strutting through high-profile crime scenes in high-heeled boots, and the Shop’s cash office is hardly a crime scene, even if the so-called “organization” of its paperwork might suggest otherwise. Plus, high-heeled boots are, much to my dismay, definitely not part of the dress code.

So instead I’m a Nazi informant: scrutinizing returns, reports and receipts, trying to catch my hapless co-workers In the Act. My discoveries will be transformed into Verbal Warnings. These Verbal Warnings will in turn become Write Ups and I think we all know what happens when you get too many Write Ups. By the time I finish my work in the cash office and head back to Reggie #1, I feel like that horrible Hitler Youth kid from Swing Kids—the one who informs on his own parents. All this for a lousy 2% raise (which has yet to materialize).

3 Responses to “The Informant”

  1. becky119

    So after the throwback Thursday featuring the shop I felt the need to go back and reread some more of these. I noticed that you said “working retail is not supposed to be this stressful” which in itself is just kind of funny. Arguably the highest stress jobs are retail and foodservice.
    Probably should get back to work, but I just enjoy these so much!!

    Reply

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