Tales of a High School Cashier

From ninth grade on I was employed. Prior to that, I baby sat on a regular basis. Through my friend's mother, I located a job for ninth and tenth grade that was "interesting" at best. Still, since finances in the family were stretched this gave me some flexibility to pay for my clothes and social activities. After school each day, I would walk about a half a mile from my high school to a nearby church. In this church was a pre-school where my friends Mom taught. Once I arrived, I would spend the next hour cleaning the school. Then, I'd spend at least the next half an hour waiting for my Mom to pick me up; she was notoriously late. One of the downsides to the job (aside from the obvious cleaning) was that I had to take out the garbage before I left. Normally, I wouldn't mind this task but one of the cute skater boys I liked hung out in front of the church... very near where I had to take out the trash. There are many things that might make a young girl look intriguing or even simply cute to a guy, but garbage removal is not one of them. Ah, the embarrassment. After two years at this job, I was now 16 and ready to apply for a "real" job.

First though, I went to Germany:) The summer after my sophomore year I studied abroad for about a month in Germany. Earlier that year we had hosted a student and now it was my turn to attend school and live with him. I fundraised my butt off in order to go but I did it. Anywho, I came back from Germany in late July to find that most summer positions were filled. Asha, one of my best friends, had been hired at Menards so I headed there first for work. As "luck" would have it, I was hired. Imagine if you will bright orange, cheaply made polos. Or, bright orange cheaply made v-neck sweaters. At some point in my tenure there we were given bibs and thus had some more apparel flexibility. My time at Menards taught me the value of 10 minutes. For an eight hour shift you had two ten minute breaks and a half an hour. Your ten minutes began the moment that you stepped off the floor. If you wanted to go to the bathroom or get a pop, you were down by 3-4 minutes. You were able to sit for all of 5 and then race back downstairs from the break room to cashier more of your life away.

From the time I was a young child, I loved the beeping sound that items made when they flashed across a checkout counter. Who knew it would be so anti-climactic. I mean, yes, I did find it satisfying to beep things, for a while, but it lost its fun when people were grumpy or impatient, which seemed to be the temperament of most customers. Back in the day, checks were the norm and we had to always ask for ID. This was a horrific experience for some customers, for inexplicable reasons, and I seemed to take a verbal beating for this request daily. I became a ten key master. I could type in the numbers without looking as I stretched myself over the counter to see the SKU number on a giant bag of salt. It felt good to be proficient at something. However, such proficiency made you see how one could become a lifer. There were several cashiers who had that weathered, I've been here for a long time, look. This frightened me. Or, women had started as cashiers and been promoted to head cashier, which meant wearing a head-set and responding to our "dings" for help. This power trip for them was huge and they wielded it over us like a sword... or something.

There were several more creepy guys who worked there, wearing their tool belt like a badge of honor. A young girl could have more than one icky relationship with an older Menards employee if he or she wanted to. Ick. Still, there were a decent amount of cute, high school aged boys, namely a trumpet player from my high school named Mike and a super nice guy from the rival high school named Jeff. These two members of the Menards staff were the reason I requested to move to the hardware department. Let me be clear: I have no knowledge of hardware or any real interest, but I liked the freedom to walk around my department as opposed to being relegated to the cashier box-- and, I liked these two boys. More often than not, I was sent to the screw and nail aisle and asked to straighten. When it was the holiday time, I was the one who set up and decorated all of the trees. Eventually, with no sign of a relationship with either of these two guys in sight and with more than enough anecdotes to merit a sexual harassment suit from the other men in the department, I returned to cashiering.

The world of cashiers can be as political as the next office. Who is put on what register, for example, determined the level of freezing cold you were exposed to during the winter months. The slow lanes were often counted out first, which meant going home. I can recall a busy Sunday when I was supposed to be off work at a certain time so I could attend my brother's confirmation, but for whatever reason, things were backed up in the money room and I was left on my register. I remember Nancy, a grumpy but occasionally funny head cashier, snapped at my brother when he told me wearily that we needed to go. Getting off work at Menards, on-time, was a rarity. Each cashier had to total their checks and credit card receipts and if things didn't match, we had to stay until they did.

I recall one cool story from Menards that involved extortion and theft. Our office manager, who counted out our drawers, was voiding out checks and taking the cash equivalent of the money. She made out with at least 100,000 dollars. Her demise meant that her assistant manager could kiss any hopes of a promotion good-bye because they faulted her for not noticing it earlier. Bummer.

I saw high school peers of mine stay on at Menards long enough to become head cashiers. I went to Iowa for school and they stayed behind. It was strange to see your peers follow one life path while I was on such a different one. On all of my breaks from college, through my sophomore year, I worked at Menards. College was wicked expensive and even though I had work study there, it went straight to my tuition. The money I made over breaks was my only means to pay my portion of the cable bill or buy snacks, etc. At the time, I resented this. Other friends returned from college and spent the whole of their breaks socializing and avoiding their parents. I donned my blue smock and cashiered a way. Still, it made me appreciate the luxury of college. When I got back to my small dorm room and had only to walk across campus to eat or attend class, I was grateful for the freedom and privilege of a college education.

Interesting notes:
* For whatever magical reason, Jeff from hardware and I did become good friends. He was quiet and shy by nature and it used to be a pattern for me to try and "peel the onion" as it were with those kinds of guys. We came pals and even went to a formal at my school together. Nice guy.

* On the summer after my freshman year of college I was moved up to the returns desk, a mini promotion of sorts, which meant I did exchanges, etc. and got yelled at a whole lot more for my request for a receipt.

* The summer after my first year of college I agreed to a date with one of the older guys in the store. It was a lame date. Truly. I think we bowled. Lame.

* In addition to working at Menards once summer began, I picked up an extra job at the video store in the next town. I'd work days at Menards and then close up the video store around 10. Then, since we are nocturnal at this stage of our life, my friend would pick me up and we'd hang out with two buddies of ours- Mike and Mark. There wasn't as much cashiering and typing at the video store, but I got free movies so this was a perk. On a gross note, video update had an adult section so I met my fair share of creepy people and was also astonished by the number of "normal" people who ducked back into that section to check out our selection. Possibly the most heinous of situations was renting a porn to a former high school teacher. You can't imagine the indignity and embarrassment.