Fighting Prejudice

For roughly 7 years now (I cannot believe its been that long…) Ive been working in a grocery store. As Ive also been a student all these years, the job has only been part time, allowing me just enough cash to have a more varied diet than noodles. No offence to noodles… its just not my favorite dinner.

Ive always thought about my job as a fairly easy way of making money. A way which requires minor levels of brain activity and little responsibility compared to a pretty decent income (about 25 bucks an hour). Add that up with a boss who understands that Uni comes first, and you get a good reason to stay. However, my views of this being a simple job which requires little effort and concentration, seems to, unfortunately so perhaps, also be the general view reflected by the public.

I recently read an article in a news paper which placed cashier at supermarket/grocery store as the lowest status job you could have. –Somewhat similar to the dung-handlers of the low castes in India. I have to admit I was not very surprised by this article, as Ive seen signs of this view for quite some time.

For some reason people automatically assume that the person behind the register is lazy, unmotivated and/or extremely dumb.

Ive personally been subjected to this kind of attitude on many occasions by several customers; You have the family fathers who look at you as if you have an IQ of 30 when you ask if they would like a plastic bag. –“Does it look like I can fit all this into my pockets?” (usually accompanied by a sinister laugh). As smartass attitude from a cashier is highly unappreciated you are forced to swallow your pride and do nothing but smile and hand the customer his plastic bags. Obviously while doing this you imagine the reply you would give if you weren’t dependent on the job: -“No sir, I can see your beer gut is preventing you from putting anything at all into your pockets, but you wouldn’t want me to charge you for plastic bags if you brought your own, would you? You’d be surprised to know how many actually do bring their own…especially those who worry about the environment.”

Dumbass…

Then you have the middle aged women who feel the need to tell you why they are giving you 305 NOK (Norwegian Krone) instead of the 255 NOK the items cost. –“That way you can give me a 50-bill instead of all the change”. Again you just sit there and smile…pretending you had absolutely no math at the high school you went to, nor the university you are currently attending.

But I have to admit, it is somewhat a relief to have people assuming you are dumb. No one expects anything from you. If you make a mistake (which of course happens from time to time) people are very understanding as they expect nothing else from you. –Very different from the academic environment at the university.

The condescending attitude is easy to deal with, especially once you get used to it. It is a little bit worse dealing with the nut jobs.

Every store has a customer which is referred to as “the weirdo” or “the stinker” or “that guy with the awful finger nails”. You know the type…usually male, although occasionally you will find a woman in the same category…Often this woman turns out to be a man on closer inspection though...This is the type who has poor personal hygiene and for some reason this person is always interested in body contact. He is not happy with giving you the money quickly and efficiently…No, he wants to give it to you one penny at the time…and usually by pressing it deep into the palm of your hand… To the point where you can feel the fingernails digging into your skin…and although you cannot directly see it, you feel yesterdays dinner (digested) being scraped off the nails and onto your skin. I say this as a microbiologist who is used to dealing with E. coli and other microorganisms…I am not a germ-freak (unless you count 'above average' interest as freaky)…Microorganisms don’t scare me…but these people (and their flora) do.

Fortunately the freaks are few and far between. And although unnerving, it is perhaps the angry customer which is the scariest one.

The angry customer is unpredictable. He or she can be of all age and social groups and it (I will call the angry customer for “it” from now on…as they sometimes scare me like the movie did) is easily recognizable by the lack of friendliness in the facial area. Usually it has seen something or experienced something in the store which was of unsatisfactory nature and therefore it feels it is its obligation to report this to the person behind the register.-Often this is conducted with a high pitch voice and severe redness to the facial skin.

Obviously it doesnt matter that you as a cashier have no control over how the meat section pack the meat or how other customers react when they tear something down and break it (for some reason they always leave it there on the floor without reporting to anyone who can clean it up). All that matters is that you are present. So you'll have to deal with it.

So as you can see; being a cashier requires far more than being able to scan various food items and accept money.

I guess what I am trying to get across here, is the hidden aspects of what seems to be a fairly easy-going, simple job. It is not as easy as you may think. And I feel cashiers deserve a little bit more respect than we usually get. Even though you may go grocery shopping after work when you are tired...remember; We get tired too. We work hard as well, and believe it or not, but most of us have already spent 8-9 hours at school/uni before we go to work...so our workdays may be 13 or 14 hours.

Just think about that the next time you go shopping

A Series of Unfortunate Events?

I believe that at some point towards the end of last week, I came in contact with a portal in the space continuum. I cannot tell you exactly when nor where this happened, but I am pretty convinced that it did. I believe that the said portal brought me to the year 2008 on an alternate time-line.

No, I am not insane…

I started last week with the ironic event that I mentioned in my previous post, but somehow I managed to land on my feet. I worked well in the lab and was even rendered eligible for a job in October (when Im supposed to finish my thesis). Everything went according to plan. That is, until Thursday. Thursday afternoon I was going to sign my name on the list for use of the electron microscope on Friday,-only to find that the microscope was shut down for the rest of the week. Obviously this fucked up my plans for the following week, as I now had to use the microscope on Monday…Not a big problem, just unfortunate. I am not sure if this is when I entered the portal, but it may have been.

The weekend went by without any significant issues, -it was actually a pretty nice weekend.

Then come Monday.

Monday started with an empty tank of Carbon Dioxide gas in the lab, and certain death for my algae. Then followed a talk with my supervisor telling me we would have to apply for a deadline extension for my thesis. Hence, Monday brought longer period of lab work, longer student existence for yours truly, higher student loan and the loss of a possible job in October.

I took the rest of the day off.

Tuesday. –The plan was to ignore the dismays of the previous day and treat myself to a membership card at the gym. –Work off the anger and all that…So I skipped Uni, packed my sweats and showed up at the gym. –Only to find that I couldnt buy a semester card until July 1st, unless I was willing to pay half the price of 6 months for 1 month of work out…a month of which I will spend at least one week on holidays. Obviously I couldnt afford this and would have to wait a month. No exercise and more anger. –I went home and did some sit-ups…but it just wasnt the same.

Wednesday. I decided to get over myself and swallow my anger. Went back to Uni with a slight feeling of optimism. After all, three’s a charm right? The third day would be good.

I am standing in front of the main door, Wednesday morning, ready to swipe my keycard so that I can enter my office and get to work. I swipe. Nothing. Swipe again. Nothing. Nothing but a red, no-access sign staring me in the face. Mocking me. My card is blocked. I no longer have access to my office. I walk down to the main building to see if I am blocked from the lab as well. I am not, but while entering I meet one of the people in charge of the algal cultivation lab who tells me no tank with gas will arrive until Friday. Goodbye algae. I will have to start my experiments from scratch…Wonderful.

In an attempt to fix my keycard I arrived at the main science building to find that the one single person who could help me had the day off.

Fuck it. I took the day off too.

Today is Thursday. I tried to get my card fixed but nothing will happen until tomorrow at the earliest. Tomorrow will be Friday. I am right now outside with a notebook and a pen, writing this while looking for a portal to take me back to the time-line I was born on. The time-line that holds my friends, my family. A place for reason and positive predictability. The time-line where even the crappiest of events make somewhat sense.

I am not confident that I will find this portal, and if I dont, this post will be my letter of warning.

A warning that portals exist. That is it possible to transfer from one time-line in the space continuum to another. And a warning to let you know that the two worlds can be so alike you wont know the difference before the shit hits the fan…

If you never hear from me again I might have found a different portal for a different time-line. That…or a flying De Lorean.

In the meantime; Consider yourself warned.