I don't know why, but people who work in stores in Florida, cashiers, stock people, bag boys (Yes, I know. Some are girls.), just seem to have a sunnier disposition. Maybe that's because they live in "The Sunshine" State. Here in Chicago I've noticed that those who work in retail, unless it is high end, act like they are doing you a favor by just being there. At a Jewel grocery store recently I asked one of the cashiers where something was. She shifted in her stool, which she sat on as she slowly moved items across the scanner in front of her, and mumbled "Aisle fourteen." Fifteen minutes later I found what I was looking for... in aisle nine. When I got back up to the front of the store with my cart of groceries, I thanked the cashier sitting on her stool for all her help. Yes, in a very sarcastic voice. She gave me the "Don't talk to me asshole" side eye look, and continued sliding customer's purchases across the scanner in front of her. Although, if it were me and I was a cashier, I would have had a stool to sit on too, but at least I knew where everything was when I worked in retail.
Sunday I went up to the Walgreens to pick up some prescriptions. I also had determined from the last few mornings in the bathroom, that I needed a laxative. So I stopped in that aisle for some of the stuff that promises "Gentle, predictable overnight relief." It was locked behind a Plexiglas wall. Above the laxatives was a button to press for help. I pressed it. A disembodied voice came out of the ceiling, "Customer assistance needed in the antacid aisle. Customer assistance needed in the antacid aisle." A few moments later a woman showed up with a key.
"What do you want?"
I pointed to the laxatives. As she opened the Plexiglas door and removed the box, I asked, "Why is everything in this store locked up?" I held my hand out for the merchandise. She pulled it away and said, "No, I have to walk you and the merchandise up to the cashier."
"That's ridiculous. I have other things to get. I've never seen a store with all the products locked behind glass before."
She replied as she walked towards the checkout, "Well, maybe if people didn't steal everything...."
As if I were one of those thieves. Anyway, that evening I ripped open the box of laxatives I had purchased, just before going to bed. I wanted some of that "Gentle, predictable overnight relief". Except it wasn't a box of pills. The idiot had grabbed a box of suppositories. I don't do suppositories. I was angry enough to go back there and shove them up her ass.
But I didn't.